HEMP, HEMP HURRAY FOR DRUG REFORM

. . . duller shoulds't thou be than The fat weed that roots itself in ease
on Lethe wharf, Woulds't thou not stir in this.

Hamlet

I do so hope Allan Rock hurries with the marijuana reforms. The state of
this country's penal laws is a real downer.

A country without free and open access to the great hemp high is a blight
on the very idea of civilization. I'm on the verge of giving up cigarettes
and am naturally very interested in an alternate source of socially
affirmative inhaling.

If all of us who are being bullied off the sweet charms of nicotine can be
encouraged in the belief that there is an open road to a stubby stick of
cannabis, and a pat on the head from the federal Department of Health, then
farewell Tobacco Road and break out the Grateful Dead.

Once pot is passed, we must further hope that the slender reed of an excuse
that gives the pretext for its legalization -- medical benefit -- will be
quickly leveraged, and we can go on to champion greater access to the
numbing weed for all ages and all places at all times. And hashish. Please
let us not forget hash.

No more hiding in the dark, lurking in convenience stores trying to load up
on cigarette papers, hustling off to some corner to "roll your own,"
spraying every item of clothing with Pledge or some other potent fumigating
camouflage. Now the pot people can celebrate their pungency, and another
of the numberless disadvantaged can finally come out of the narcotic closet.

We will, of course, want our own space in restaurants. The pot-disinclined
will mutter at first, but when a band of spaced-out mellowheads comes
wheeling in with a mass visitation of the munchies, where is the
restaurateur staring at a Manic Hunger with a Full Wallet who will want to
turn us away?

Besides, a few minutes under a cloud of passive (secondhand) pot will soon
have everyone under the same roof inert with good vibes, and that blurry
camaraderie that is the surest signature of a brain that has found a better
use for its neurons than mere alert consciousness.

I predict we're in for a revival of folk music; there is nothing more
likely to induce protracted moaning over the strum of an accoustic guitar
than a deep collective buzz from dear sweet mary jane. The zen of a good
stone is that deep empty place where Dylan makes sense, and lyrics that
have been peeled off the more socially conscious bumper stickers leave you
limp with enlightenment.

It'll make going to the movies fun again. The problem with today's movies
isn't that they're so stupid. It's that the audiences attending them are
alert and coherent. This is not the natural order of things. Anything with
David Spade, Carmen Electra or Adam Sandler in it was designed for a
lowered consciousness. These movies are meant to be watched for their
bright colours and all that heavy Dolby, as kinetic wallpaper for a good high.

Now that it's almost legal, we've got to plan. The lack of information must
be addressed instantly. Good advertising -- that's what Mr. Rock has got to
get his bureaucrats on.

We must grade our pot according to its potency. The quick stone. The
gradual buzz. The intense and durable high. The gradual long lungful
medium mellow. And brands. We must have brands. And billboards on which to
advertise them. And good packaging. I'd like to see a line of Pink Floyd
doobies. Ah, psychedelia -- 'tis thou has ravished me.

Now all those artistic celebrations that were wasted on the cigarette crowd
- -- your fireworks, jazz festivals, light shows, the Formula 1 races and
ballets -- they'll have a sponsor again. Toke night at the opera. They'll
come in droves and think it's Peter, Paul and Mary gone German.

Better packaging, too. Think Rothmans weed -- with filters. No more
spitting out the seeds and losing the most potent toke because the
cigarette papers caught fire, or your fingers are singed and blistered from
trying to suck the last millimetre of your spliff down to its last flaring
stalk.

Marijuana legal has another advantage. We will be able to buy our inhales
in drugstores again. "I'd like a carton of du Maurier Hemp, king size,
extra mild, please." Good jokes, too. "Camels please -- the two-hump hemp."

The timing couldn't be better. It's like Fate. Apoclaypse Now,a movie that
hemp made (and that could only be watched under hemp's spell) is out again.
We can watch a longer and more boring version and not notice that its
longer or more boring. Wow.

We're on the brink of the greatest benison to the brain and lung since the
invention of oxygen and the spinal column. Life is going to be so much
better when we're all stoned. Legally. And if it isn't -- well, who in hell
will give a damn? Thanks, Allan.