Behind The Curtain 35: Flop 19 And A Way Familiar 8-Ball – November 18, 2010
Sharon Letts
Eye Correspondent
Greg poured 8 Ball Stout into frosted glasses while Nick loaded the bong.
“When’s Lewis coming?” Nick asked.
“If he shows up at all, he said ‘around 8.’ You know he never leaves that house,” Greg said, handing Nick a pint.
“Still can’t believe it didn’t pass,” Nick said into his beer. “I thought for sure there were more smokers than growers or conservatives combined. Hell, there are conservative ranchers in Ferndale growing in barns all over that valley.”
“And they voted against it to keep the prices up. The conservatives voted against it because of the fear factor,” Greg said.
“What’s the fear factor – afraid of change?” Nick asked.
“Afraid of myths, rumors, unsubstantiated bullshit. It was hard to read the propaganda against pot, but what I saw out there was mothers worried about their babies smoking pot, kids smoking pot, and everyone walking around stoned.”
“You mean like now?” Nick laughed. “The only difference is you can’t tell when someone is stoned, unless they are totally baked or drunk. That’s the legal poison, right here in this glass. Eight ounces of dark, rich, creamy brew that drives a kind man to hit his woman, abuse his kid and end up with a liver the size of a football – all leading to a sure grave, if you have the right genes.”
“On the other hand, you and I can sit here enjoying our 8 Ball Stout, partake of the bud and it’s no worries all day,” Greg said passing the bong to Nick.
“There are responsible people and not so responsible people,” Nick said. “To quote Disraeli, ‘Moderation is the center wherein all philosophies, both human and divine, meet.’”
“Talk to the cartels about moderation,” Greg said with a wink. “The pot trade is its bread and butter, it’s documented. Take pot away from them and it will make a dent, that’s a given. People think their kids will have more access if it’s legal? That’s a bunch of crap. Drug dealers of that caliber don’t give a shit about your kids. It’s a free market as far as they are concerned.”
“The cartel pot is shitty anyway,” Nick countered. “Brown, dry, flavorless buds, smashed into bricks. I have friends in So Cal who smoke that shit. Lord knows what toxic chemicals they use down there for mites and mold. I wouldn’t smoke it.”
“Regulations, that’s what we need,” Greg said. “I want to know my pot is organic.”
“I can understand why parents are fearful for their kids, that’s a given, but I’d put muscle behind getting rid of meth before pot. No one smoking pot walks around like the living dead, or gets that crazy.”
The two sat and contemplated the state of the world.
“How old were you when you stated smoking pot? Most everyone I know have smoked since high school – that reaches back to the 1970s,” Nick informed. “I was 15.”
“I was 16,” Greg said.
Both were silent when Lewis knocked on the door.
“Hey guys, Prop 19 busted,” Lewis said, smiling, holding up a Mason jar of extremely large bud. “It’s business as usual.”
