I was struck by the comment discussion the other day about marijuana. I think it’s fair to say I won’t be touching marijuana until I need it for my terminal-cancer fight — either that, or a particularly stupid late-midlife crisis. As I told someone today, there seem to be enough substances in the world to make me stupid; why invite another?
Also, it hasn’t escaped my notice that marijuana today isn’t like the marijuana of yesterday. Which brings us to this Slate piece, about the unmet need for a weaker, ’70s-era marijuana. Because of old boomers, natch:
Marijuana is much stronger than it used to be. Lots of the strains for sale at medical marijuana dispensaries are approaching 25 percent THC, or tetrahydrocannabinol, the compound in the plant known for getting you wicked high. Sitting around a winter solstice bonfire in the Seattle area this December, I heard a woman in her 60s tell a story about her husband taking a tiny toke on a joint that was going around a dinner party, only to pass out in his chair. Another friend and her husband, in their 30s, decided to share a marijuana caramel after their daughter went to bed. They got way too stoned and entered a shared freak-out about how they would deal if she came out to ask for a glass of water.
An elder statesman of Generation X, comedian Louis C.K., has a bit in his Live at the Beacon Theater special about taking “big hits. Like big, 1970s, jean jacket, Bad Company hits” of modern, high potency dope, and then everything going terrifically terrible. “When I was a kid you could just smoke a joint for a while. Now you take two hits and you go insane,” he says. “It’s not doable anymore.”
Well, OK. I guess, if I were a dedicated drinker of two glasses of wine after work, and suddenly it was like drinking two glasses of grain alcohol, I might see this as a problem. But my impulse would likely be to quit drinking, or drink something else, but probably quit drinking.
Marijuana is now legal in Detroit, and medical marijuana is legal in Michigan, and one of the problems that comes with that is how you test for it when someone’s driving gets out of control. If we’re going to let this drug into the legal corral, then I don’t think it’s irresponsible to wish there were weaker varieties of it to be had. And not just for aging boomers who want giggle-weed instead of a sledgehammer to the forehead.
The lab the writer mentions in her opening paragraphs? I interviewed a guy who runs a similar facility here in Michigan. Sometimes when I’m bored, I go to their results page and read the names of the various batches. Girl Scout Cookies? Organic Amnesia? I’m always amused.
And so we come to the end of another week. I will break the tape with relief. I play you out with some bloggage:
Peggy Noonan asks if the GOP can recover from Iraq. After fretting over such casualties as the party’s “respect for economic stewardship” and “the political ascendance that began in 1980,” she remembers who actually fought this fiasco:
All this of course is apart from the central tragedy, which is the human one—the lost lives, the wounded, the families that will now not be formed, or that have been left smaller, and damaged.
A shout-out to the maimed at the two-thirds mark. Well, at least she didn’t forget entirely.
Tom & Lorenzo have been posting photos of the “Mad Men” cast as they appeared at their red-carpet premiere earlier this week. May I just say? If I’d been dealt the genetic hand January Jones was, I wouldn’t go out in public looking like this. Never mind the dress — which I don’t think is as awful as some — but yes, mind that hair. Does this girl not own a comb?
This is hilarious: Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum tried to craft a “unity ticket” to unseat Mitt Romney as frontrunner last year, but couldn’t agree on which one would be on top. Because unity.
Have a great weekend, all.