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 Jack Rikess, a former stand-up comedian, takes the edge off of the world and explains all those unexplained things in a way that will make you either laugh or cry.

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Monday
Feb222010

Q. Where Do Agoraphobics Go For Vacation? A. The Living Room

        To fifty percent of my readership who inquired where I, I who barely leaves my apartment for weeks at a time, go for vacation? To half of The Duo of Greatness I respond, just because I didn’t write and I was on vacation, doesn’t mean I actually collected Frequent Walker Miles...But what I did was this...

        I walked over to Dennis Peron’s house, for a reception celebrating his work for Medical Marijuana. (From this point on, I will be referring to Medical Marijuana as MM.) This is the third time I’ve been to the Peron Manse. It is both part Escher and part Carroll. You can descend and get high at the same time or go up and get low in one of the many landings and salons laid out in his massive backyard. And I believe there are talking kittys.

      The first good news was I was one of the younger people there. That hardly ever happens these days at the Weed functions I’ve attended throughout NorCal. In the hundred or so people I spied here, Old hippies from Mendo, Earth mommas and their old men passing joints or pipes hardly without words but knowing nods, a few stray young couples picking up the torch of the movement and lighting their outlandish glass pipes full of Blue Cheese, Blue Dream, and an aggressive case of White Widow. I mumble silently to myself like I do at any function I’ve either gone out of my way to attend where a certain sub-culture can be found or for some other reason like the time I walked to purely Bay Area esoteric conclave like the Alan Lomax Clogging and Marxist Memorial Rave. An all-nighter fueled by lovelies in Groucho Marx masks and scuffed-up tap-laden Doc Martins dropping ecstasy and slamming down Sunny Delight and Vodka. When I find myself in these venues surrounded by folks who for some reason just like myself made an effort, went out of their way to get off the couch and attend this place while other didn’t. In these moments all I can say is, “These are my people.”

    At Dennis’, the talk was mostly about the upcoming legalization and the changes that will bring. It’s amazing to think that this is the guy, along with other patriots, almost singularly started the MM movement. His house is museum of memorabilia praising his efforts from twenty year old articles depicting Dennis’ fights and struggles to champion letters from legislatures and congress people. Newspaper clippings and Internet pages reprints line the way up the stairs to the kitchen.

     On every level of this fantastic abode...castle??? There are conversations going on telling stories about Dennis from the old days, his crusades and of course, the passing of his lover. Somehow it all gets back to Dennis being a survivor and a pioneer in Weed World. The vibe is unbelievably peaceful. They ask for ten bucks at the door but if you don’t have it, I saw many who were allowed in no questions asked. Munchies on the table consisted of sandwiches and potato chips. A lot of potato chips.

     It’s funny going to these shin-digs for Weed. I wonder if I’m looking at myself. Stoners stumbling by with sandbags of flesh underneath their eyes trying not to draw attention to themselves as they reach for a chocolate covered cherry. Others stare at you when you go by, too numb to get a full sentence out but still there with a warm smile. It is refreshing to be with so many people who like nothing better to do than get high. I wish there was ever a place like this where people could go, get a joint or a bong-hit on their way out for the evening or simply to hang out and hear some music while they cough and laugh. A place I could go to chill on the way home before you face the kids and the missus. If there was a place where people knew my name...But I digress from the action in front of me.

      Being this is San Francisco, the conversations ran the gamut from, ‘Are we ready for legalization’ to a guy who kept rolling Lion of Judah papered spliffs who the most he could repeat from time to time was a hearty laughing, “Yeah right,” or the more explosive, “Holy Bananas.”

     A camera crew recorded the proceedings for something but I couldn’t tell for what. Now that the Bay Area has its first Marijuany TV show, ‘Cannabis Planet,’ you never know.

     I didn’t know many people were there, but once conversations were started and links and associations were made, especially if you’re an old timer like me and have been around the City as long as I have, even if I don’t go outside that much, one finds out that we have and so and so in-common as friends. People were really friendly and accepting of most everyone.

    There was a VIP room...shack that smoke billowed out of...I wasn’t allowed. Besides for that it was mostly Peace and Love on every floor.

    The topic that I heard most frequently was the debate that I’ve stated here many times; people my age and the generation right younger than me fear  that the Man is going to take over the Weed industry as we know it. That soon after legalization, the Evil Seed Diggers will come from Monsanto and take their patented seeds away from you. The guys in the black helicopters and black John Deere tractors will come over and rip out your garden and plants in the name of Big Business.

    That when Weed becomes legal, it will be lifted out of the tender hands of the Freaks and be given over to the Southern Republicans to capitalize and profit from at their will.

    This is the greatest fear I hear from everyone wearing a wool cap with the big green leaf on it.

    I wanted to talk to Dennis Peron about this and I had a gift for him. Much to my chagrin, Dennis wasn’t at his own party. He was working down south in LATown. Helping the unfortunates in Tinseltown get their act together. Maybe next time...

   I personally think the fear is greatly simplified but it does have substance. Everyone who is against Weed will do an about face when the numbers are really crunched on the secondary markets like rope, clothes, paper, medicine, sails, and all that old world shit that was once in place before the year 1937 reared its ugly head up.  

   There will be a new war on drugs in the future. This war will be about cutting up a potentially enormous profitable green pie of an empire that has been already been successfully mined by munchy driven hippies who for the past five decades have been shaping a successful  business plans that works, if you don’t count the police.

    I said it before, for every bottle of cheap wine of Weed to come out of the Big Business of Weed, there will be a boutique brand to be bought, if you have the cash. The worry will not be about the Man. It will be about us and how we handle ourselves in this new era.

More Later...   



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