Because that’s totally the more fun spelling.
Actually, personal health note first: got my bloodwork(*) back today. Everything was normal. So I’m… fine? I suspect the doctor is gonna fall back on stress as the cause, but I haven’t talked to her yet and, again, there’s nothing anyone can do about it because fuckit there’s only four days of school left.
So. That’s out of the way, let’s talk about weed. You have homework first. I’ve been involved in a minor Twitter kerfluffle about this article, which is itself about this article, which is made fun of even more in this blog post. Actually, “kerfluffle” overstates the point; it’s maybe eight posts back and forth between me and two other dudes and right now is entirely civil, but “kerfluffle” is fun to say.
You didn’t click on any of those links, so lemme sum up. Maureen Dowd, who writes for the New York Times and is therefore not very important, went to Colorado and bought herself, on purpose, a THC-infused chocolate bar. She ate a piece of it. Nothing happened, so she ate the whole thing. She then spent somewhere between eight and ninety-two hours begging for Jesus to save her from the flavor monkeys that were trying to share the couch with her. Turns out she was only supposed to eat a square of the candy bar, and she just hadn’t waited long enough for it to kick in. The candy bar had sixteen squares.
(WAIT. No, that’s not quite right. The candy bar was supposed to “be cut into” sixteen squares; I was picturing something pre-scored, like a Hershey bar. Not the case.)
Everybody else is making fun of Dowd. Whose name sounds like “Dowdy,” which means “fat and boring,” basically, so it’s like she got named just to get mocked for writing something inflammatory about weed. Basically Dowd thinks that, well, if we’re selling this shit, maybe we ought to put some labels on it or something.
“You dumbass,” everyone else is saying. “You should have done your own research on this before cramming sixteen times the safe dose of the marihuana into your mouth and brain-parts! Who doesn’t know to drink a lot of water to come down from a weed high, anyway?”
Here’s the thing, y’all. As much as I don’t like defending people who write for the New York Times, and especially as much as I don’t like defending people who are named Dowd… she’s kinda right on this one.
Weed is legal in Colorado.
Motherfuckers do not do research before they eat legal shit.
And a candy bar is a goddamn single-serving snack, and I will punch anyone who claims otherwise. If you serve me a candy bar and say “eat this to make things happen!” I am going to eat the whole thing. If I am expected to go to the entirely counterintuitive trouble of cutting my single candy bar into sixteen squares so that the weed won’t turn me into Ralphie May after a cup of Cuban coffee…
…well, then I’m not gonna have a good time, am I?
What’s going to happen now (what is already happening now) that Colorado has legalized weed is that a lot of people who might have otherwise never tried weed are going to try it, in some form or another. Candy bars are safe. I don’t smoke; I don’t know how. I know how to eat a goddamn brownie, though. Here’s how: eat the brownie.
Non Drug People are going to start making this mistake a whole hell of a lot if the dispensaries don’t start being very careful with how they package and dispense this stuff, especially comestibles. If it isn’t being sold as a single-use (I’m picturing, like, a Halloween candy sized piece; if I find out MoDo ate two pounds of THC chocolate I’ll retract this whole thing) then it needs to be really prominently labeled.
THIS IS ENOUGH WEED CHOCOLATE TO GET YOU HIGH FROM THE MARIHUANA FOR LIKE A WEEK IF YOU’RE A LIGHTWEIGHT. SNOOP DOGG CAN HANDLE THREE DOZEN OF THEM.
(Note: I am not a Weed Person; my experiences with weed are minimal and with other drugs nonexistent. I can totally imagine myself doing exactly what MoDo did here. I’m not going to do research before I eat a candy bar. Because that’s dumb.)
(*) Really, WordPress? You autocorrected “bloodwork” to bloodworm?