The vagaries of Whemp in Normal entries

It is a new day. Seriously, I checked my cell phone and it was one number closer to my demise than yesterday. Most calendars don’t give a shit one way or the other about my demise. My cell phone seems to be looking forward to it. I don’t know what it thinks its fate will be when I’m an urn of ashes, I think it’s just malice, wants me dead regardless of the consequences. Boy, talk about being made in the wrong decade, in the nineties it could have given me cancer. In ten years it could intuit the number of times I consider throwing it against a wall, rock, or any hard object. In twenty years, assuming the planet is still around, we’d both be mandated into relationship counseling.

It is still a new day, not a good day or a bad day, which is not to say morally ambiguous, I don’t believe this day wants to see anyone come to harm or misfortune. It is the sort of day when your glasses fog up when you step upside. My glasses do, and so would yours if you were wearing mine, and when you’re being chased, in this case by me for having my glasses, a fogged-up lens is bad news. I almost took a picture of two bike riders, elderly gentlemen, as an example of why bike clothing is fundamentally wrong. As I was trying to frame my excuse for taking their picture my window of opportunity passed. I had a good one too. My real reason was this argument I had with a guy in the Facebook group ‘cycling past fifty’ who took umbrage at my statement that no one looks good in cycling clothes and showed a bunch of pictures of athletes in cycling clothes. These two gents had beer guts and no ass. Beer guts need loose clothes, not skin-tight ones, and assless is ok until you put a wad of chamois in the pants as cycling shorts have, thus distinguishing them from other shorts, and then you look like you are wearing a diaper in your sons shorts. They were panting too. Humid out. Panting was good. They’d probably be wagging their tails too if you could fit a tail in cycling shorts and if elderly gents had tails.

That’s the action part of this entry. Otherwise I spent the day napping, visiting with my sister and eating. Oh, and smoking the marijuana. I read some article about how it was ok for the federal government to spell it marijuaha (hmmm, not sure about the spelling, it might have been marijanah) and the article could have been summarized by; the feds don’t like it are will be damned it they use a Spanish word. I think hemp would work, maybe even whemp with a silent double-ewe. It was an awful lot of words to explain why the federal government would willfully spell something wrong. I think they are going to lose that battle. Not the spelling battle, the not liking the wheed (silent H) battle. Heh, spellcheck is pissed at me.

This November recreational marijuana is going to be on the Michigan ballot. Right at the moment, however, a bunch of dispensaries have closed down for alleged licensing … issues (neither the state nor the dispensaries are being transparent on what the issues are, but the dispensaries seem to think they’ll be back when things get sorted). And, for some inexplicable and, again, non-transparent reason, CBD has a temporary ban on it here. You can buy it on line, but not in an open, licensed, marijuana dispensary. Curious. Though this blue state has been leaning towards purplish, I think the law will pass. Hell, it did in Colorado and that state is red as it gets. What might be appealing to the authorities is getting students on public use infractions. In this town and Ann Arbor, mere possession of marijuana has been a misdemeanor with up to a hundred dollar fine since the mid-sixties. In recreational states they take a harder stance on public use and a real dim view on driving with a lit doobie. I have a feeling MI lawmakers and enforcers would like that.

I haven’t heard of it yet, but maybe that’s because it was settled out of court, but drug testing someone for marijuana as a moving violation has problems that a breathalyzer does not. Your pretty much have to have drank a lot in the past four hours, or a shot or two within a half hour of being pulled over to hit .08 — I’m ballparking here, people’s metabolism varies, just saying, twelve hours after being drunk on your ass your blood alcohol is usually low. With marijuana a chronic user can piss dirty for up to a month after last using. That and making someone piss on the side of the road is not going to go over well with the citizens, taking them to the station to piss is impractical, and taking a blood test is awfully invasive for someone presumed innocent. And, too, or still, none of those will show if the driver was high when driving, just that he’d been high in the past three to thirty days. It would be a fun legal case for the newspapers. Not just the precedent part but all the nudges and winks.

Ok, I’m way past done, spent, used. Y’all be nice to one another. Oh, and me, be nice to me.