KINDRED APATHY FOR T.O. DOPE CAFE

I cannot stand the odour of cannabis. That's probably a good thing,
for an addictive personality, having a built-in aversion to certain
drugs.

Also, dope makes me staggeringly stupid.

A few years ago I was sent to Amsterdam, the assignment an analysis of
Holland's liberal drug laws, at a time when Canada was again looking
at loosening our own "soft drugs" legislation. Strictly for the
purpose of research, I wandered from one drug cafe to another,
sampling the menu: hash oil, slimly rolled joints, laced brownies.

It took three days before I could recover enough to write a story. And
my notes were illegible.

The phone conversations with my editor went something like
this:

He: "Are you filing today, Rosie?"

Me: "Whaa? Huh?"

Strictly beer for the rest of my stay, though decent alcohol-only
establishments were not so thick on the ground downtown.

Yesterday, Amsterdam's mayor announced the city will close almost a
fifth of its marijuana cafes to comply with a national ban on having
them near schools.

In Toronto, I've occasionally been to the Kindred Cafe on Breadalbane
St., simply to smoke a cigarette - horrors! - unmolested, up on the
patio roof.

Bong decor is not my thing, either, and the place was too mellow and
laid-back and anachronistically hippie-dippy, a venue of contact
inertia. Most chronic dope-smokers of my acquaintance are dull-witted,
poor conversationalists and prone to giggling at bad jokes. Harmless,
though.

The Kindred Cafe - busted in a drug raid Thursday evening - has been
particularly popular with registered medical marijuana users, those
actually issued with Health Canada cards designating their status.

Cafe membership is required and drugs are not allowed to be sold on
the premises, though cannabis can be smoked outside, by
cardholders.

Once, signed into the cafe by an acquaintance in possession of a
registered card, I finally got around to asking what his medical
condition was, though uncomfortable about prying. Depression, he
reluctantly admitted.

This was startling. Not to minimize the impact of depression or
anything, but if recurrent melancholia is an accepted malady for
obtaining otherwise illicit drugs legally, then I should be smoking
crack.

According to the Health Canada website, there are two categories of
people who can apply to possess marijuana for medical purposes: Those
being treated for symptoms within the context of compassionate
end-of-life care or symptoms associated with specified medical
conditions, including severe pain and/or muscle spasms from multiple
sclerosis, spinal cord injury or disease; severe pain and other
symptoms related to cancer, HIV/AIDS infection, arthritis and
epileptic seizures.

The second category applies to "applicants" who have debilitating
symptom(s) resulting from a medical condition other than those
outlined above, "if a specialist confirms the diagnosis and that
conventional treatments have failed or judged inappropriate to relieve
symptoms of the medical condition."

While assessment of the applicant's case by a specialist is required,
the treating physician, "whether or not a specialist," can sign the
medical declaration.

At the Kindred Cafe, police allege, medical authorization among
patrons had little to do with a lively business.

"They were just selling to anybody," Staff Insp. John Tanouye, of the
Toronto drug squad, told the Star. "All you had to do was buy a
one-day membership, I think for $20."

According to police, the cafe was serving drug-laced hot chocolate,
milkshakes and baked goods. Cops seized electronic equipment, coffee
machines, drug paraphernalia and about $2,000 in cash. Six people were
charged (only two taken into custody) with trafficking and possession
for the purpose of trafficking.

Marijuana activists are up in arms.

Or maybe lying on a couch in the basement, watching The Simpsons
(reruns) and eating Cheezies.