So, I’m still grumbly about why it’s perfectly OK to choose one natural remedy (say, evening primrose oil for hot flashes and night sweats) but not another natural remedy (medical marijuana) to see if it alleviates my arthritis and insomnia.
Yeah, yeah, there are ways to get medical marijuana under current state law, and yeah, yeah, the federal government isn’t enforcing laws against marijuana dispensaries at the moment, but that’s only true because there’s a Blue Guy in the White House. As soon as a Red Guy’s in charge (and sooner or later one will be because the pendulum always swings the other way eventually), police officers will come charging in and arrest everyone from the junkie sucking on a bong in the alley to the cancer patient smoking a joint to keep from barfing her guts out after chemotherapy. It’s a black and white world, my friend. Rules is rules.
As I ponder the difficulty and possible ramifications of trying (currently) legal (well, in California, anyway) medical marijuana, it occurs to me that the laws regarding marijuana in general are, frankly, asinine. We already know for a fact that cigarettes are health hazards, yet they’re still quite legal. Ditto for Pepsi and chili-cheese fries and motorcycles and Celine Dion CDs.
What really irks me are the folks who are vehemently opposed to using marijuana for any reason, even though it’s quite easy for them to avoid it if they want to. They decry the health risks associated with pot, and turn around and waltz in to a fast food joint and suck down a month’s worth of saturated fat and sugar.
What do you suppose kills more people every year — obesity related disease or marijuana? Must I really subject myself to answering that question?
Chicken McNuggets are an addictive, life-shortening drug, and easily accessible to children. In fact, parents give it to their kids willingly. The anti-marijuana crowd doesn’t even flinch about that.
Beyond the mind-numbing illogic of it all, one of my pet peeves is people who are obsessed with imposing their will on others, particularly when they’re attempting to control behaviors or choices that aren’t hurting anyone else. (Hello? Gay marriage?) They’re just uncomfortable with what “those people over there” are doing, and are determined to stop them from doing it, just to ease their own discomfort.
Following this logic, even though I don’t eat fast food, I’m uncomfortable with other people eating it, so it should be illegal.
Boom. Ronald McDonald, consider yourself unemployed.
But why stop at junk food? Let’s apply this standard to everything. Since I clearly have better judgment than most everyone on the planet, I’ll decide what’s illegal from now on, based on how uncomfortable I feel about others participating in things I don’t like but are easily avoided.
We’ll start with the biggie: Fundamentalist religion. It’s the biggest source of the obsession to control the behavior of others and force them to submit, and those who resist risk everything from simple shunning to execution. Although (in this country, anyway) it’s fairly simple for me to refuse to become Catholic/Muslim/Jewish/Insert-Your-Favorite-Oppression, I’m still uncomfortable with anyone else participating.
Snap. Fundamentalist religion — illegal.
Which is totally cool, because I don’t have to imagine no religion anymore. I just made it happen.
On to the second major source of the obsession to control others: politics. I’ve been politics-free since January, and you know what? I like it. The energy I used to spend arguing over things beyond my control has been redirected to reducing my own stress and volunteering in my own community. The whole red/blue shebang doesn’t merely make me uncomfortable, it makes me want to vomit. And although I have no intention of submerging myself in the spiritual cesspool of politics ever again, I’m nonetheless uncomfortable to know that others are still in the fray. So, politicians? Thanks for playing. You’re illegal.
Wow. No junk food, no religion, no politics. Life is good.
Let’s continue.
By my decree, the following things that make me uncomfortable are banned:
Miracle Whip. It’s just gross. I never use it, so it’s illegal.
Quilting. Just thinking about all those little tiny movements makes me nervous, because my fine-motor skills are weak. So, quilting is hereby illegal.
Texting during dinner at restaurants. That doesn’t merely make me uncomfortable, it makes me want to slap the cell phone right out of the other person’s hand. Even if they’re not at my table. It’s just rude, and now illegal too.
Fat women in low-rise jeans that are two sizes too small. The clue should be that gelatinous amoebic bulge billowing out over their belts, but it isn’t, so making it illegal will clear things up.
Sexually insecure, underequipped men who compensate by driving massive, roaring four-wheel drive monster trucks. You know, dudes, no one would realize you’re hung like hamsters if you didn’t announce it to the world.
People who say “seen” instead of “saw” as in, “I just seen him yesterday.” Straight to jail.
Justin Timberlake. I don’t get him, he looks like an alien and he just kinda creeps me out. I’ll never buy his CDs, but into the illegal pile he goes. I don’t want anyone else listening to that cutesy crap. And while we’re at it, let’s ban that little Bieber fellow too. I’ve never actually listened to his music, but I already know I’ll hate it. Singing Justins — all illegal.
Shall I continue? Or a different approach would be better: Let’s make it illegal to impose your will on anyone other than yourself or the children you’re raising, and leave it up to each individual to decide who to marry and what to put into his/her mind, body and spirit.
— Follow Debra DeAngelo on Twitter. Links are posted at http://www.edebra.com and http://www.wintersexpress.com. Find Debra’s columns online at http://www.wintersexpress.com, http://www.edebra.com and http://www.ipinion.u
