UP IN SMOKE

Weird Dream About PM Proves Highly Illuminating

It was one of those dreams that make you throw the sheets off and head for
the cold water tap.

Me and Prime Minister Jean Chretien, sitting in my living room, smoking a
joint.

A baggie on the coffee table, a pack of Zig-Zags nearby and Chretien
reefing on a fresh spliff with a determination that would make Cheech and
Chong green with envy.

"Dood, dis is goood stuff," says a goofy-grinned Jean, in what can only be
described as one of those trippy-session scenes from That '70s Show.

We pass the joint back and forth until we burn our fingers. The PM sticks
the roach in his pocket "for later."

"I aff to tell you Osay, I don't see what is de big deal," the glossy-eyed
PM tells me. We laugh.

And laugh and laugh.

We make fun of Paul Martin and Sheila Copps and George W. and laugh some more.

But soon after, we begin to lose ourselves in an awkward stoner silence.

Both of us staring at the hardly audible television suddenly reluctant to
strike up conversation.

My dream was quickly turning into a nightmare.

So, what do you do with a stoned prime minister in your living room?

I ask him if he wants me to throw on some tunes, but he doesn't like my CD
selection.

I ask him to play cards, but we can't come to a consensus on what game to play.

I ask him if he wants some Doritos.

We both agree on that.

We power munch until the bag is empty.

Then, I dare him to try and lick his own elbow. (Try it, it's humanly
impossible.)

It keeps him busy for a few minutes, but then he tires of that and the
uneasy silence returns.

And then it happened.

I start to smell something stranger than the pot we'd been smoking. I ask
him if he smells smoke.

He looks down at his right suit pocket and screams something in French.

I think it was swear words.

The roach he'd put away for later was burning a hole through his suit and
he was frantically swatting at it trying to put it out.

After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to stop laughing long enough
to get him a glass of water that he quickly emptied into his smouldering
pocket.

Turns out there was a moral to my twisted dream.

It's the old "if you play with fire ..." adage.

Which is exactly what Chretien did last week. Our
nothing-to-lose-because-I'm-retiring prime minister openly mused about
smoking a joint.

"Perhaps I will try it when it will no longer be criminal," said the
69-year-old who says he's never tried marijuana except in my dreams.

"I will have my money for my fine and a joint in the other hand."

It doesn't matter where you stand on the decriminalization debate, it's
irresponsible and plain stupid for someone who is supposed to be a role
model to our children, and the face of our nation abroad, to halfheartedly
endorse smoking dope.

What Chretien did is disturbing. Kinda like listening to your grandparents
tell sex stories. I'm sure it happens, but do you really need to know about it?

Some things are better left unsaid.

A lesson our 69-year-old prime minister has yet to learn despite 40 years
in politics.