A news item described how Mexican drug smugglers had designed and built a catapult to launch bales of marijuana over the border fence. Arizona somewhere, maybe it was Texas. The perps were arrested soon after for possession, intent to deliver and bombing the American homeland.
I do not want to get into the debate of whether marijuana should or shouldn’t be legalized if to note I’d rather deal with a person who feels stupid and intoxicated than one who is plain intoxicated. Were alcohol a 19th or 20th century discovery instead of the drug that has grown up with civilization, alcohol would be more illegal than marijuana.
I am entitled to say nice things about grass because it was my generation as took THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, out of the hands of the beatniks and made it a dorm room therapy. Tutoring was available for those who never learned to hold their breath for as long as it took to swim the width of the high school pool.
Marijuana marked and coded that age; musical patterns, fashion, politics, art, the kinds of cars we drove, to include facial hair, cuisine, the books we read, to add a few entertaining episodes of burning bras, women with careers, women in politics, the glass ceiling, sexuality, all in school knew the influence of marijuana.
For those who came of age in the 1960s, the status of marijuana as still illegal in the 21st century comes as a surprise; for once it seemed so obvious. In medical and health terms many still believe that herb is a good tradeoff for our long tradition with alcohol. Less violent, easier on the liver, a better night’s sleep, maybe even better sex. Such a difference to think it was a slam-dunk.