In today’s uplifting episode, the tide turns as the first RMJ dispensary in a 90-mile corrider between Denver and Pueblo opens in tiny Manitou Springs, Colorado — the very week the mighty New York Times unleashed a devastating assault on federal marijuana prohibition! Are these events connected?
When you’re a 17-year-old sophomore at American University and it’s the Fall of 1969, you figure a series of antiwar rallies that attract crowds of 500,000 fellow students, “peaceniks,” and “outside agitators” to DC is all just part of college life. How would you know any better?
Why am I sneaking my impressions of Colorado Amendment 64 into a film review of Lincoln instead of just headlining them “Legalization or Grovelization?” And why are General Spielberg and his Dreamworks cavalry along for the ride?
Cannabis’ multifaceted nature cries out for a new breed of specialist, a cross between an economist and a botanist, self-trained to evaluate the economic firepower of a magical herb.
On three of the four corners where South Broadway crosses Asbury, green-neon cannabis leaves probed the nighttime cityscape. A week earlier, the crumbling blacktop currently hosting Walking Raven Medical Collective, Little Brown House Dispensary, and The Green Depot stood vacant, a deteriorating vestige of a bygone era abandoned by the previous lessors, out-of-business car dealerships. Now the intersection was reborn, a highlight on South Broadway’s burgeoning dispensary row.
Hollywood, Inc. has help.
The wild and woolly days of medical marijuana proliferation have not escaped the ever-vigilant eye of newspapers, magazines, radio, and TV. Before it’s tweeted into oblivion, traditional media clings tenaciously to life – herbal life, that is.
Decades ago, Cheech Marin screeched, “Mama try to tell me, try to tell me how to live, but I don’t listen to her, cause my head is like a sieve,” as he romped through Up In Smoke wearing a pink tutu. Peoples’ eyes bulged out of their heads. Now, five minutes don’t go by on an episode of Entourage without some gleeful housemate slipping into sinsemilla-assisted satori. Each episode is an infomercial for the grandeur of ganja. That’s advertising!
For many herb lovers, the word “marijuana” connotes freedom, romance, serenity, positive vibration, artistic pursuit, and even love. Place the word “medical” in front of it . . . and images of endless legislative wheel spinning interrupt the reverie. With surveillance cameras peering at every last dispensary transaction, the romance is fading fast.