Medicinal marijuana in Washington, D.C. brings legislation to a higher level

Graphic: Max Bennett

As John McCain walks up the Capitol steps, a strange and ominous odor wafts through his nostrils.

“Why, I haven’t smelled that smell since ‘Nam,” he thinks to himself, the pungent odor pushing Wall Street reform out of his head. “No…It can’t be,” he moans, looking to his right to see Barbara Boxer and the rest of those hippies on the Environment and Public Works committee finishing a joint before they go inside. His world is shattered; in a psycho rage, he rips off all his clothing, forcefully feeds his Blackberry to a taxi driver, and runs into the horizon, never to be heard from again until he writes his very last memoir and promptly hangs himself from an American flag.

This could happen, and I really hope that it does; Washington, D.C. approved medical marijuana on Tuesday, and unless both the House and Senate pass a joint resolution to block the law and get Obama to sign it, it could very well come to pass. Next thing you know, a low haze of THC smoke will cover the Potomac like a blanket causing contact highs, and, subsequently, crooked crew races. Men in tuxedos will smoke strange cigars during intermissions at the Kennedy center and rabidly pillage all of the overpriced snack carts. (“The first half of the show lacked gumption, I thought, but the second half was inspiring, don’t you agree?”) The local D.C. elitists might finally start to get lost or at least not be able to smugly rattle off where the best back road is without a TomTom. Congressional office interns rejoice: you will no longer have to buy from the sketchy homeless man who hangs out outside the Foggy Bottom Metro stop.

“Yeah, I guess it does kind of look like a big dick, doesn’t it?” Harry Reid will say to John Kerry as the two happily munch on Rice Krispie treats from the dispensary. Some will walk by and wonder why two U.S. senators are lying on their backs with their legs up in the air against the Washington Monument, but they don’t seem too concerned about enlightening the public. After scoping John Kerry’s marshmallowy treat from afar, the teenager in a Marilyn Manson T-shirt wises up and corners the senator:

“What’s my opinion on medical marijuana? Well, man…see…the thing is…I’m not uh…really informed enough on the issue of…to make a comment…to you…at this time.” 

At about the same time that celebratory smoke pours out of NORML’s office on K Street, Harry J. Anslinger is probably rolling in his grave. I hope maggots are eating his bones. In the coming period of weeks, the phrases “rolling in their graves” and “founding fathers” and maybe even “maggots eating his bones” will no doubt be used in conjunction in protest of D.C.’s new law. 

It will be very interesting indeed to see how Congress reacts to the law: either they’ll make a public protest of it as they successfully did in 1998 (NIMBY, hippies) or keep the “don’t ask don’t tell” status quo and avoid the issue at all costs by hiring some temp to bark “no comment” six times per minute. 

Either way, the issue of medical marijuana has finally reached Washington. Ignore no more, or else your daily commute will become even slower; Constitution Avenue will be congested with slow-reacting stoners who figure that if they’re going to wait around in traffic, they might as well be really high. 

It was easy to brush it off your desk in 1998, Mr. Senator, when wild and crazy California was the only one quietly selling hash cookies. However, how many states are doing it now? 14. The buzzword “medical marijuana” is on the lips of local and state politicians around the country, except perhaps for Kansas, where it remains that anyone who mentions the phrase will be sent straight to the slaughter house.

At long last, national politicians will have to form some sort of opinion about the dark, dirty little issue that has spent months and years in the incubator. Who will lead the fight against the law, and say that it is an outrage that Washington will now be fueling the train to legalization? Will those who disagree with this statement, and believe that patients should be prescribed marijuana instead of Oxycontin, stand up against them?

God, if only I could be there. If only I could be there on the day that the law is brought up in Congress, and a deathly silence falls over the congregation. At that moment, Congress will know that there is finally enough dirt piled up under the rug to tip someone off to the fact that they’ve been sweeping under it. I want to watch it happen. I want to watch as TV cameras are thrust in faces, and responses are made and sound bites are recorded. Some will be fierce, some will be garbled, others will be eloquent. Fingers will be pointed: why are YOU so comfortable talking about drugs? What about the children? How will we make America’s future together if all our kids are smoking blunts and watching Jon Stewart?

I hope to see chaos. I hope to see one million frenzied protesters on the Mall, chanting in unison about the beginning of the end, a green apocalypse that marks the new wave of sin in America. I want blood, destruction, political unrest. Anarchy. Real Old Testament-y stuff. Politicians trying to cover their asses, failing, and being chased by thousands of activists in a THC rage back to their home state. Only the strongest will survive. 

When the riots are over and the fires are dying down as the sun breaks on a new day in our nation’s capital, we will be able to rebuild our country the right way this time. We will make a new land – a land of prosperity and brotherhood, integrity and moral fiber, freedom and peace. Every day, men and women around the country will fill their pipes and reflect on what a great country we have as they sit and watch the sunset on their porch after a hard day’s work. And as they fulfill their existence and bask in contentment, the people of the new United States of America will think back to the Great Government Fire of 2010 that rid us of all the flip-floppers and thank the Lord for medical marijuana.