You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The Pot Mafia.
There is a growing contingent of American Marijuana Proponents who have gone from pot heads to boots on the ground marijuana militia.
As the number of states legalize pot, the legion of cannabis crusaders grows exponentially.
In the old days, pot heads took a hit and then laughed at Beevis And Butt Head on MTV.
They ate Doritos and dissected theorems of what came first, the chicken or the egg. In some cases, they stood on the coffee table in their Ghetto Apartments and wrote prolifically on the underside of a white horse fastened to the ceiling.
But as Bob Dylan once wrote; “the times they are a changing.”
Now, instead of hovering over the bong, toking it up, letting the smoke fill their lungs and mind and talking to Pharos in another astrophysical existence, these pot pirates of social activism surf the world wide web looking for a fight. They sense that the prohibition on the wacky weed is vaporizing like alcohol did in the post Al Capone era.
Pot Bootlegging is a thing of the past. In many western states you can walk into a store and buy any number of cannabis products without a scintilla of guilt. Fueled by this blossoming legalization, the 2018 version of marijuana militamen are vociferous in their dedication to the wacky weed.
From their control consoles high above the internet, these activists attack any message they perceive as ANTI POT.
I’ve conversed with these stoners. They ramble on about the chemical components of dope like it’s a cocktail of sunshine filled with vitamins.
They talk about the therapeutic qualities of erb as if it is the fountain of youth once sought by Ponce Deleon.
Pot is the new Cornflakes in the morning. Pot is the new medical super drug. And don’t get me started on the perceived value of HEMP, from rope, to fibers, to plastics.
And God forbid if you do a story where a fellow doper is busted for moving weight anywhere in the Volunteer State; watch out. Even though marijuana is still illegal, and the cops have a responsibility to enforce the law, the pot heads are offended. And if you report the police doing their job, then you are a DOPE NAZI. I’ve heard it all.
Do a pot story and post a word or sentence remotely anti pot, and the emails, tweets and Facebook posts pour in like diaherrea thru a Shetland Pony.
The dopers chastise the cops. Why don’t you bust real criminals? Pot never killed anyone they say. Pot never hurt anyone they say. Pot isn’t a drug they say, when comparing the lesser of evils like opiods, cocaine and Meth.
Recently I did a story on a two year old who ate his parents marijuana and had a life and death reaction.
The police tell me that they respond to a call of a child who OVERDOSED.
The parents admit their son ate their marijuana that they left on a coffee table.
The police confirm the child’s toxicology comes back for marijuana.
Afraid they will get arrested, the parents wait a whole day trying to flush the child’s system with water and Pedialyte. Meanwhile the child exhibits unusual signs of “giggly behavior” “Slanted eyes” “extreme sleepiness” “Hard stomach”
When the child begins having seizure like symptoms, 24 hours later, the parents finally call 911.
The child goes to a local hospital that quickly realizes the child is failing, and they send him immediately to Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital in Nashville, a Level 1 Trauma Center.
This is where police enter the equation.
Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital hides behind a shield of HIPPA patient’s rights, but a nurse tells a detective who tells me; that child iis the sickest person in the hospital when he goes there.
THE SICKEST PERSON IN THE HOSPITAL! At Vanderbilt Medical Center? That’s saying something.
The child is intubated, put on a ventilator, as he struggles to breathe on his own.
The Lieutenant over Investigations tells me that the child comes close to dying.
A Vanderbilt Pediatrician familiar with the case says the potency of the drug, coupled with the child’s size could possibly cause the toddler to stop breathing and subsequently die without medical intervention.
The Good News?
The child makes a full recovery and the parents now have stupid ass mug shots. They are charged with Aggravated Child Neglect and possession of drug Paraphernelia. Even the child’s grandfather is charged with hiding drugs while the child deteriorated physically.
So I tell the story. Pretty much like you just read.
I didn’t write a thesis on CANNABIS; The Loco Weed. I didn’t do a story on Pot, good or bad?
I tell a story about investigators and doctors who say a child overdoses on marijuana and then is saved.
But I know it’s coming. Like the full moon brings in the tide I know it is inevitable.
The Marijuana Mafia, hiding behind a thick layer of smoke, gets on their computers and PDA’s and begins firing off emails.
The assault is obvious and direct, like a crotch thrust in a studio 54 dance-a-thon.
My inbox begins to ding.
DING. DING. DING.
I read the first paragraph of most of the emails and simply hit delete.
You can’t overdose on Pot, they say. Pot is not a drug, they say. You are fake news, they say. Why are you so anti pot?, they say. You are ignorant, they say.
Biased, stupid, moronic. On and on the roller coaster of pot attacks come.
Like I said, I don’t read the entire email. I can’t. I know how I am. As much as I try and say, who cares, I guess I care. And I’m visceral and explosive like a phlegm filled sneeze in a field of pollen.
Read these emails and I will surely go to DEFCOM 4. Read the marijuana mafia’s cascading cause and I am sure to become the neutron proliferation of unadulterated rage.
With age comes wisdom.
Being the visceral, act first, think later personality that I am, I choose to read one email. Just one. I can’t get in too much trouble, just reading one email, right?
The note is not mean spirited like some. The note is not a personal attack like many.
The note reads in part:
I assume that you are against cannabis otherwise you would have reported both sides of the story.
Number one, first and foremost, one cannot die from ingestion of cannabis in any form. So it would be very nice, if before you report on an issue, you get all the facts and be a reporter, not on one side of the fence.
This whole cannabis death conspiracy is just out of control.
He even says, Thank You.
Now, by itself, this is not a shitty letter. This letter isn’t even close to the rude I’ve been getting and deleting.
But this poor son of a bitch pulled on the tail of the tiger at the wrong time.
I am sick of the pot heads, inhaling their dope smoke, and then pushing their unsolicited poison at me in waves of thoughtless anger.
Seeing red, I jump on my computer and write with the unbridled passion of who cares. With the wind in my hair and the fire in my fingertips, I let the words fill my thoughts and then the page.
You attack my journalism, my intelligence and assume I’m pro this or anti that, I begin.
Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not dope, because you sound like the dope, I continue.
What part of this story felt like a dissertation on the merits of Marijuana Use in 2018? What part of my story sounded like a point counterpoint argument for the medical benefits of cannabis in this new world order? And while you were attacking my credentials and journalistic merit badge in the fake news pantheon, perhaps you overlooked a child almost died? Do you have a child? Do you care about children? Did you not care about the child?, the main reason this story aired in the first place? Hey pot head: A child almost died. Thank God he didn’t. Police said they responded to an overdose. And brace yourself, yes, hold for it; they said he ate Marijuana. Put on your boxing gloves. Get ready to fight. Cannabis never killed anyone? Tell that to the kid who was killed in the drug deal that went bad. Cannabis never killed anyone. Tell that to the family whose mother died when the stoner ran the red light. I’m the moron? You’re the marijuana moron. You are a twisted bong hit of a human. You have the agenda, not me. Are you sitting in the dark? Is there mustard on your shirt from yesterday? Why bother cleansing, it’s just Cannabis. It’s not a drug. It never hurt anyone, killed anyone, made anyone fat, lazy or stupid. It’s just weed. Next time you write me, make sure you watch my story without your pot glasses on so you understand what the story is all about. Have a good day moron.
I sit at my computer. My finger poised over the send button. Thoughts of anger flash through my head. I am the bull. The cape before me is red.
HIT THE SEND BUTTON, I say to myself.
Hit it! HIT IT!!!
My finger is poised over the send button like a guillotine glimmering in the morning light. My head is in the stock, the blade glistening with surgical precision, ready to race down the track and slice my neck, sending my head spiraling into a blood filled basket.
There would be a momentary gasp and cheer and then what?
Who disposes of my rotting head?
I think better of hitting send and lower my hand from the keyboard.
Suddenly it is like EBOLA and I needed to disinfect.
Stay away from the Send Button I tell myself.
Caution Will Robinson. Caution.
I carefully avoid the SEND button, finding the DELETE button. I watch the venomous prose disappear, replaced by the white page and flashing cursor.
I begin again.
Police responded to an overdose of a child. The parents say the child ate their pot. The toxicology says the child ate pot. Doctors say the child was intubated and almost died because of ingesting pot. And YES, the child is going to live. Thanks for the note. And you know what they say about assuming. I’m very comfortable with my reporting. If you are not, it’s America brother.
I study the words.
Shorter, sweeter, less chance of the guillotine rushing down the rails and slicing my head into the basket.
I feel a tingle of anticipation.
Let’s fight you mother F***er.
Respond with your bong hit smoke swirling in your thoughts.
Give me your best shot.
I bang on doors for a living. I’m ready to bang on your door.
I should have asked him for his address?
I should have told him that pot is still illegal in this state, and when the cops bust you with it, I’ll come a knocking.
What’s your mug shot gonna look like pot head?
He responds with a single word.
That’s the best you can do?, I think to myself.
Anyone can hide in the ether, in the dark, in the anonymity of the internet.
But the real test comes when you challenge these people. What are they made of?
Are they resolved in their position? or like the weed smoking wussy I know him to be, is he already too high to care?
Where are the Doritios? he is thinking to himself.
I stare at his single word.
I am angry. I want to punch him in his face.
You haven’t seen fake news till I bang on your door.
I’ll fake news your ass in a walk down the likes of which you’ll remember the rest of your life.
I’ll fake news you into a corner and destroy you in a barrage of interrogatory venom that will have your defense attorney asking the judge if it’s fair that I was there for the arrest. After I’m done with you, the only option will be to plead guilty.
I stare at the screen. I must show resolve, but I also remember the guillotine.
It is poised to limit my career based on what I write and more importantly, how this pot smoking cannabis crusader responds.
You obviously watched a story about a baby who almost died, and parents going to jail for child neglect, as a story about being for or against. pot. I’m for kids not dying regardless of what their parents expose them to.
You saw what you wanted to see. Thanks sir. Have a good day.
I study the words.
Measured. Hardly the 1st draft where I want to kill him and eat his children.
Will I be fired if he contacts my general manager?
I read the email.
I don’t care.
F the guillotine.
I wait for a response.
He is either too stoned to respond or my point seeped into his THC saturated melon and he now realizes that this was about a child dying, Not about whether pot is good or bad.
I think about the story. Perhaps the problem is the word OVERDOSE.
OVERDOSE to the Marijuana Militia is like the red cape to the bull.
If I had said the child got sick, or went to the hospital or tested positive for Marijuana, the visceral put up your dukes and fight rhetoric of the militia would be much less intense.
It’s the word OVERDOSE.
That’s because to them, Pot is not a drug. It is a plant. God made it. And God is good.
It’s the transitive property of dope, POT = GOD = GOOD.
And that’s how fake news can sometimes come to your door and kick your sorry dope smoking ass.
Anyone got any Doritos?