I truly understand the idea behind marijuana as an aid for those who truly need help with certain maladies - I know first hand about long term problems. I do not oppose the whole idea, but I still cannot find it in me to totally support the idea either. I know most of you are rolling your eyes at me by now, but you are a reasonable lot, so I'll tell you my reasoning behind my unsubstantial support. You are intellegent, and I am sure you know where this may be leading.
I know for a fact that there are those who are abusing the privilege of legally possessing marijuana and using it without fear of retribution. A simple observation: People love to get stoned, and will do anything to obtain it. You know it, and I know it. What is this teaching children? I have seen first hand the effects of marijuana use on a person.
Marijuana will oftentimes become a controlling factor in one's life. It can hinder productive elements in one's life. It happened to me, and I saw it happen to many others, while their children stood by and watched; and a child will most surely see this as normal activity. Children learn by example, and end up using at shockingly early ages. I was thirteen.
Let me give you a quick example to back up my earlier statement, so please bear with me.
I once lived in a boarding house for men, along with four others, all from different walks of life. They were amiable enough, and I made friends with them. Two of them smoked marijuana, while the other two, I found out after I had moved in, were very fond of Meth. I just tried to stay neutral on the whole thing - it had already been years since I had touched marijuana, but as I mentioned before, my past was tainted with blurred memories of getting stoned and always struggling to get more. I watched distantly as the gentlemen in question displayed the same behavior as so many others I have known over the years.
One evening, they approached me and asked if they could borrow my truck. One explained that his wife, with whom he was separated, needed to have a window repaired at her house. I more or less trusted these two - after all, they were pretty good guys who only smoked weed. It wasn't like they were on the heavy stuff.
They left, assuring me they would be back within an hour.
Four hours later they returned with excuses and such, and I was a little angry (alright, I was a lot angry). One of them had an old rusty tool box, and I paid it no mind at the time.
The next day, a stranger called me on my cell phone, asking where one of the men was living. He was angry beyond belief. It turned out that he was the same person who I had allowed one of my friends to call from my phone. The man on the other end was a dealer. His house had been broken into, and an undisclosed amount of high grade marijuana had been stolen, alone with a large amount of money. He was certain that it had been one of my house mates. I, too, was certain. The whole thing began to form in my mind, and you can imagine how angry I was at that point.
I did not reveal to the man the location of the person in question. The dealer went so far as to say he would go to the police with my phone number. I had had enough. I confronted the two immediately, and after a little prodding, found out the truth.
They had used my truck to commit a robbery.
All in the name of Marijuana.
I thought to myself: How could a friend do that to me? Use my truck to commit such an act. It put me in the hotseat, ad could have put me in jail.
They only wanted to get stoned.
The dealer kept calling me, and I kept telling him that I know nothing about the whole affair. Eventually, he backed off somewhat, realizing I was actually a victim myself. Perhaps it would have been more appropriate for them to tie me up and gag me before taking my truck.
I don't know if the dealer ever caught up with this person, but deep down I know that he would eventually find the thief, and execute some action. It would not be a pretty sight. I moved out shortly thereafter, breaking all contact with everyone in that house, and I never went back. I would like to mention that our next door neighbor, a heroin addict who will also remain nameless, showed up at the front door one day looking for the other two who smoked the meth. Apparently, they had stolen a stereo from his house, and in brainless fashion had taken it to a meth dealer to bargain for more of the drug. The dealer, it turned out, was friends with our next door neighbor and it wasn't long before he had learned about it. And there he was, ready to kill.
This is only one example, and maybe some of you are shaking your heads in negation, saying that's all it is, one small example that doesn't apply to everyone. I will tell you now, it does apply to more people than you think. I know, I know, throw me in a river. Before you do, however, consider what it took to get the marijuana to you - go backwards from that bag you have stashed away somewhere. Go back from those who rob and steal just to get this harmless weed (and I do mean harmless, because I have also known those who had utter control over their usage, and in fact, I had envied them for theoir strength).
Here we have someone who just bought a bag from a local dealer. A dealer who got it from someone was in the importing business. My friend used to get a cardboard box used for new washers and dryers filled with pounds upon pounds. I am sure there are many ways to achieve their goal. But this person who imports is only someone insignificant in the chain of people involved; he most likely received it from an exporter, someone a little closer to the top. And the closer we get to the top, the more dangerous it gets.
And so, as we reach the end of the line, the very source from which this product may have came from, I ask this question: How may people have died over the years so someone could sit in their huge house smoking cigars, drinking brandy, trying to keep all of the money from falling out of their pockets?
Maybe you think I am being ridiculous, but watch the news. When I see innocent people being murdered at the hands of drug lords, I stop and think; and more questions comes to mind: As we sit in our homes with that joint in our hands, smiling and satisfied once more to be stoned, do we have blood on our hands? And are we hypocrites when we rationalize the use of marijuana by insisting that it is harmless?
It is here that I must say I am neutral. I personally do not take sides on the issue. I am only throwing some simple truths out there, because this really is a serious subject that needs to be explored more deeply. Face it, you know it, and I know it.
And please do not throw me in the river. I was merely a little bored today, not working at the moment, so I thought I had better write something anyway. My goal was to only give you something to think about, and perhaps pass on some comments.
Maybe next time, I will flip the coin and explore the other side - after all, I was once there. I guarantee you, you do not offend or shock me when it comes to marijuana. It is a part of my dusty past that I am not particularly proud of, but those days are long gone. Speaking of long, I have rambled on for quite a long time, not unlike a close friend of mine. I shall have to speak to him about this.
If you have reached this point, thank you. I hope you have a wonderful, thoughtful day.
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