I don’t smoke marijuana. There are secret purchases required, plus the learning of code, dealer etiquette, dosing expertise, exotic strains, the latest artisanal delivery systems, and it all sounds way too complicated.
Also, because it’s easy to forget this detail, pot is illegal.
But even if pot were decriminalized tomorrow — a proposal on the table at the State Capitol — the chances of my racing out to score some “Chronicles of Narnia” and then heading home to roll up a fatty are, well, slim. Unlike Bill Clinton, the one time I did blaze up, over 20 years ago, I inhaled quite deeply enough to find the effect unpleasant. Some of us have all the feelings of alienation and existential weirdness you could ask for, thank you very much.