A salty old welder once taught me the life lesson that there is nothing new under the sun. That is to say there are few realizations that we might refer to as lightbulb moments. That's not all that noteworthy, but then he said something to me I wish I'd written down; "the time between sunrise and sunset is when we contemplate the great unknown." That's pretty heady stuff coming from a guy who barely finished the 5th grade. Then it occurred to me that maybe the best minds of our time don't necessarily become doctors, lawyers, professors, and surgeons. Maybe the people who understand life best are just the ones that have taken the time to properly contemplate it. My dad was well known for saying that the meaning of life is the pursuit of the meaning of life. That is both humorous, deep and is a tough hat trick to pull off. The old man was good at that. Saying this is a bit like a dog that chases its own tail, it's a task that is never complete. It is possible that the true meaning of life cannot be found in a textbook? Even cave etchings were important, but it may just be that the most important thoughts we have are the ones we keep to ourselves. Our level of understanding about life often comes down to how much effort we put into living it. And sadly, the more enjoyable life is the faster it passes us by. That's known as poetic justice, or at the very least the human condition.
How many ways are there to expand the mind? My grandpa told me the only way to do that is to buy a bigger hat. My dad on the other hand told me I should listen to Pink Floyd, therein lies the difference between two generations. I think when trying to make one self-wiser we can automatically count out chemicals like beer and whisky, those will only cause us to throw up, fall down, and pass out. Grandma had a brother she claimed drank so much he would (and I quote) "fight a buzzsaw" whatever that means. The Californians among us claim we can achieve a higher level of conciseness if we do yoga and drink cucumber water with our pinky's extended. But I am going to have to pass on that. There is something unsavory about the idea of a man over fifty in a pair of overalls trying to achieve the position downward dog. I have also heard hipster types talking about expanding their essence of their Oura with their third eye. Now, I am pretty sure I don't have a third eye, but if I do it is seriously in need of RK surgery, or at the very least a monocle. Maybe we should just embrace the fact that as human beings there are some things that operate just outside of our understanding. In other words, it's just a wee bit above our pay grade. Sometimes it's just nice just to set back in our easy chair, swig some sweet tea, and try not to take ourselves so damn seriously.
Anytime I am writing I like to keep one ear on the water cooler just in case anything comes up that might apply to what I happen to be writing about that week and then I heard this: many of the Silicon Valley types around us have been trying to broaden their minds with mind altering drugs like peyote. Call me old fashion but I don't think a man who is trying set new parameters for safer space travel should start out the day by smoking a bowl of Green Goddess. Which by the way is also the name of a homemade salad dressing granny used to make back in the 70's, which has nothing to do with the topic at hand, but I found it humorous and somewhat topical. This makes me wonder if I am the last one in the free world (or a least in Oklahoma) that is not perpetually strung out on the devil's lettuce. Most public places these days in Broken Arrow tend to smell like Tommy Chong's index finger and the laws regarding it are looser than Willy Nelson's head band. In short, it's everywhere.
In Oklahoma pot shops are popping up faster than cold sores at a Courtney Love concert. Somewhere in England Keith Richards is strumming his six string and evidently every joint he smokes adds fifteen minutes to his life, or so it's being told. Keith owns a house in Jamaica, and he claims that while living there about nine months out of the year that the warm moist air helps his arthritis. Yep, that's his story and he is sticking to it. At this point I don't even see the point in him rejecting the idea that his name is synonymous with weed. The most astounding thing about people and their pot is they all seems to want to hang on the whole "I have a prescription pot card." Have you any idea how easy it is getting a "prescription" pot card? The doctor asks you questions like "do you have stress, or do you get headaches?" WELL, CAN YOU NAME ANYONE WHO DOESN'T?! They might as well ask; do you have a pulse? What exactly causes a human being to want to live their lives in a big green haze, isn't life too short for that?
And there are a couple of things you should consider, if pot truly was a prescription, it wouldn't be named things like "thin mints" or "pink and wet." In addition, you can go buy 2 pounds of the stuff today and smoke all of it in an hour; and I will remind you that's not regulation. And while nobody (to my knowledge) has ever died of a marijuana overdose we should all keep in mind that just because we CAN smoke copious amounts at one setting doesn't mean we SHOULD. When my dad was alive, I looked at the back of his marijuana card that said the following (and I quote) "you are allowed to purchase and carry on your person 72 oz of edibles." THAT'S FIVE POUNDS!! And just where do the state laws regarding pot and the DOT meet? If you are suspected of driving under the influence of marijuana, will they give you the same test as if you were suspected of drinking in excess? Maybe they should put a bag of chocolate donuts in front of a driver, and if they don't eat it, they are good to go. Here is a little math riddle, if you go on a day trip leaving Tulsa at 1, driving 70mph, and arrive in OKC at 3 while snacking on 5 pounds of weed brownies, by the time you get there would you still be okay to drive? The only acceptable answer is NO. I always sucked at math, luckily this question requires none.
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