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Yesterday, I found myself in a familiar position, killing time between meetings, so made a run to a local convenience story and gas dispensary.  While I was in the venerable Ram, I heard a news tease that included a story about how a major pot operation in my town had been taken down that day. A major pot operation!  My immediate thought was not, “oh, thank goodness that those drugs, which would have otherwise hit the street in my community, have now been seized and no harm will come to anyone that I know or love.”  Fuck no.  That sentiment would have to be based on more than one premise that I’m unable to accept, being that I like to think I’m a sentient being.

Instead, I thought “who?”  This is a small town, and surely if I didn’t know of the person, I’d know someone on the pot farmer’s road or street.

I checked out the Columbus Dispatch online first, foolishly, so I didn’t catch up to the story until this morning when I found it on Channel 10’s website. I was glad, even if slightly disappointed, that I didn’t recognize the name.   The news station, in keeping with their brilliant investigative journalism, left out any mention of where the bust took place, so I missed out on relating to the story that way as well.

(Say, didn’t I learn in 3rd grade, about what a news story is supposed to get across?  I am damned sure I remember Mrs. Moyer teaching us “what, who, when, where, and why.”  How hard is that?  Is there any possible way that journalism could be centered around other ideas, especially when you are talking about run-of-the-mill news splashes?  Maybe you can excuse a TV station, though I’d rather not, but the Dispatch is constantly guilty of missing themost basic vital components of what’s supposed to be a news story!  I suppose that’s what you get with a one-newspaper town in a city the size of Columbus.  I’d imagine that, as in many cases where there isn’t any competition, not needing to win will attract the retarded and the lazy like misery attracts clergymen.)

Anyway, this guy was growing up to 100 marijuana plants in his basement.  I can’t add anything further to that, because that’s what he was doing.  Was he selling pot?  Probably, but without guys that grow and sell it, where are people that enjoy getting high going to get it?

I’m looking for the crime here.

I do not like pot.  I haven’t smoked it in over 10 years, and I simply don’t care for it.  Frankly, I think pot is for pussies.  I mean, where’s the thrill?  You fire up your bong, or your bowl, or your perfectly rolled joint (once you’ve admired it, of course), and then, after raiding your stockpile of delicious snacks cache, watch TV, or listen to some music, or these days, evidently, play XBox 360 until you get sleepy.  That’s fucking weak.

I prefer a far more dangerous drug, as do most Americans.  We’ve all got our specific taste for it; for example, I favor a Canadian strain that’s imported regularly, along with some stuff from Europe.   Then, I fix at home, where I hit my stash until I pass out, not to be stirred for fire, burglars, or sex. But, you can also be served my favorite drug at any number of establishments set up just for that purpose, with loads of other users.  A few hits, and you’re just like everyone else that’s using right there with you, looking around at who needs punched, and who needs fucked.  Man, even those uptight home-schooling housewives, they get a few hits of the grape-flavored variety, and it’s legs-up in the taxicab time.  What a fucking push!!

Of course, the good times come to an end, eventually, because the drug I like give you liver disease, and are associated with various cancers, and that’s no fun.  But you gotta live for today, man.  Those pot-smokers lose in the end as well.  They end up forgetting where the remote control is.

Getting home, if you make it that far, is a problem though.  Charged up on my favorite drug, you kind of forget how to drive, but that doesn’t stop you from jamming on the accelerator and having a good old time!  A pot user, well, the only thing that they ever do is sit too long at a green light, on their way back from UDF with a bag of Funyons and a 2 liter of Mountain Dew.  Fucking pussies.

The funniest, and by that, I mean the most ridiculous and sad, part of the story is that there were two children in the home, so the grower of this supposedly noxious week was charged with two counts of child endangerment.  Really?  I have no idea if the adults in the home were fit parents, but if there is anything related to the growing of cannabis in the home that would have damaged these kids, I’d have to say that it would probably be trumped by having a dozen or so narco-stormtroopers, all surely clad in tactical gear, as enforcement agencies simply are enamored with militarizing themselves these days, crash into the house, shouting like vikings, and taking custody of the adults.   For growing plants.

Sure, one could point to seedy visitors, in and out of the house to buy their weed (if that was indeed happening at that house).  Of course, the people that usually buy pot are such pussies, and so lazy, that they probably wouldn’t be energized enough to case the joint for a later burglary. As long has one has hidden the Twinkies, there’s probably no ancillary crime to be committed.  Charged up on my favorite drug, there’s gonna be fightin’ and fuckin’ and who knows what else.

So, I’m going to rest easy tonight, knowing that this grower of plants the government doesn’t like is now safely away from the public.   If we’re going to do drugs in this community, let’s stick to the legal ones that kill and maim a few hundred thousand every year.