Vegetating in the doctor’s waiting room all morning, I got to see a lot of the New Jersey nooze on TV.
They are pushing cannabis, aka marijuana, pot, weed, as the answer to all life’s problems.
Background: A bill to legalize “recreational marijuana” failed in the state legislature earlier this year, despite our Far Left Crazy governor’s well-nigh frantic advocacy; and the feeling now is that they’ll never get it through the legislature. So Plan B is to put it up for referendum–with the idea that the people will always vote to get high.
Meanwhile, we are told on the nooze programs that cannabis “helps your workout” and even “helps your meditations.” Having known more pot-heads, and known them better, than I ever want to know again, I would be astounded to find one of them capable of any meditation on any subject. Or capable of much else, for that matter.
I begin to find it somewhat sinister, this ruling-class push for turning all us peasants into stoners. Why do they want us stoned? Why are they pushing “recreational drugs” at us?
Probably for the same reason they make our schools and colleges so lousy and then insist that everybody go there.
Liberalism is a war against the human brain. They don’t want us thinking. They don’t want us even able to think, should an opportunity present itself. Keep ’em stoned! Keep ’em stewed! They’ll never stand up to us, if they can’t stand up at all!
I have lived long enough to understand leftism as a satanic enterprise.
In contemplating this nooze report, please bear in mind that it’s as cold as a brass monkey just now, and has been for some days.
Residents in Manassas, Virginia, called police the other day when they saw a naked man “walking around the neighborhood” (https://www.wusa9.com/article/news/local/manassas/naked-man-high-on-marijuana-bites-his-dog-then-fbi-agent-in-virginia-police-say/65-8be08737-717d-456f-bcf4-8eca6cd8ca44). No, Mr. Rogers, it was not a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Before he could be carted off, the naked man bit his dog twice, shoved a woman to the ground, and bit an off-duty FBI agent.
He’s being held without bail. That’s probably a good idea.
Uh, wasn’t it kind of, well, cold to be strolling around in the altogether? The nooze reports say the kook was high on marijuana. Well, I’ve known a lot of pot-heads and none of them ever succumbed to the urge to shed their threads and take a promenade in the icy winter weather. Nor did I ever see them bite anybody, dog or human. I wonder what he would’ve done if he’d encountered a porcupine.
We are seeing more and more of this kind of behavior. Why? Could the fact that we “celebrate” all kinds of lunacy, and put extreme weirdos up on pedestals, have anything to do with it? Like, all right, call me a stick-in-the-mud, but this guy seems to be more than a few fries short of a happy meal.
We are waiting for the Democrat Party to spring him from jail and have him run for something.
One of the tiresome aspects of my youth was that most of my friends became pot-heads. It made their conversation very tedious to listen to, and gave me a closer acquaintance with pot-smokers than I ever wanted.
And now we’ve had a CNN “reporter,” as part of the nooze network’s New Year’s Eve show, demonstrating how to use a bong.( http://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2018/01/video-cnn-reporter-holds-joints-lights-bong-pot-smoker-live-new-years-eve-broadcast/) If you don’t know what a bong is, lucky you. It’s a device for smoking pot, leading to a steady flow of idiotic statements delivered in either a portentous, oracular tone or else with lots of giggling.
Has “journalism” truly come to this? Yeah, it has.
A nation of pot-heads would be pretty easy to rule. Our leaders can do anything they want, and a perpetually stoned public will never notice. Believe me, I know pot-heads.
At least it will be totally compatible with a modern college education.
A lesson in peer-group poppycock…
At one time, before my marriage, all my friends were pot-heads, big-time. We had a softball team, and we were always up each other’s noses. We were closer than a chain gang. For me, the one fly in the ointment was their constant insistence that I become a pot-head, too. You never heard such nagging. But if my mother taught me nothing else, she taught me how to hold my ground. The more they nagged me, the less I was inclined to join them.
Then another fad was added to the mix–running. They would all go out running together, and then come back and smoke some more pot. I don’t like to run unless I’ve first hit a ball, so I didn’t join them in that, either. More nagging. Somehow it was expected that we had to do everything together.
Someone got the bright idea that they should set themselves up as a kind of health tribunal, to decide who was fit to be on the softball team. They made a big production of decreeing that if you didn’t run with them, you couldn’t play. This was presented to me as an ultimatum.
My answer was tactful: “If you think I’m going to let a bunch of druggies tell me what is healthy, you’ve damaged your brains.”
I’m afraid this led to a parting of the ways, by and by.
Groups of peers can get kind of peculiar. They can wind up insisting on uniformity. Follies get reworked into rigid standards.
It seems to me like a good thing to avoid.