Woo-hoo! Company’s coming!
According to an Associated Press newspaper article by Kristen Wyatt, carried in The Olympian under the headline, “State could become Mecca for marijuana tourism,” Kathleen and Sam and I should be expecting visitors.
It’s about time. Most of the people I know - family members included - think Washington State is lost somewhere in the vast, ice-locked and unreachable Yukon territories. We can’t talk those people into visiting us even when we promise to send sled dogs with a trained guide and driver. It’s especially hard for us simple country folk to understand why those people we left behind in California don’t seem to want to get the heck out of there. When I did I felt like the shackles of hell had been lifted from my shoulders.
But now that me and my fellow Warshingtonians have legalized personal possession of recreational amounts of marijuana, we’re thinking maybe some of our acquaintances and loved ones might just travel north one toke or two over the line. Geez. We’ll have to organize marijuana growing operation tours. Sam and I hope the growers have put down their weapons now that it may be legal to openly cultivate the ganja weed (we have to wait and see how the Feds feel about it). Previously, if you wandered into the woods and stumbled across a growing operation you stood a good chance of winding up with a butt full of double-ought lead or worse. But now, maybe the growers will be kinder and gentler.
Sam and I wonder if our close loved ones are going to desire marijuana pipes as Christmas gift items. We’re thinking we might try to get Kathleen to join us and we’ll have someone photograph of the three of us wearing Santa Claus hats, standing in a field of marijuana caroling, “We three kooks of Washington are, smoking a marijuana cigar” (ooohh, a big fatty!). If we didn’t sing a Christmas carol we could just warble that song, “North to Olympia, come on the rush is on.” Whatever. It’s really not that important what we sing as long as we remain mellow.
Have you ever seen a Shih Tzu giggle? I swear Sam is giggling and I thought I heard him say to a big German Shepherd passing by, “Hi honey, what’s your name.” Good grief!
I personally am umaflicted by dis mooriyjiuana. I yus freel a lil’ hungary. I
Got sum feerce munchees. Sombrudy wann make sum has browns, er hash brownies?
We shure hope its troo that our peeps are gon’ cum visit us now, ‘cause we reely luv you guys. We get real lonelysome up hyar in the hinderlands. Yew no how boring it is too talk to a reendeer? Is notso bad hear, really. We get sunshine sometimes. We gots lotsa fraish air and green trees.
Three bags ‘a poop on youse if youse don’t come for a visit now and may the spirits of Cheech and Chong haunt you forever.
According to an Associated Press newspaper article by Kristen Wyatt, carried in The Olympian under the headline, “State could become Mecca for marijuana tourism,” Kathleen and Sam and I should be expecting visitors.
It’s about time. Most of the people I know - family members included - think Washington State is lost somewhere in the vast, ice-locked and unreachable Yukon territories. We can’t talk those people into visiting us even when we promise to send sled dogs with a trained guide and driver. It’s especially hard for us simple country folk to understand why those people we left behind in California don’t seem to want to get the heck out of there. When I did I felt like the shackles of hell had been lifted from my shoulders.
But now that me and my fellow Warshingtonians have legalized personal possession of recreational amounts of marijuana, we’re thinking maybe some of our acquaintances and loved ones might just travel north one toke or two over the line. Geez. We’ll have to organize marijuana growing operation tours. Sam and I hope the growers have put down their weapons now that it may be legal to openly cultivate the ganja weed (we have to wait and see how the Feds feel about it). Previously, if you wandered into the woods and stumbled across a growing operation you stood a good chance of winding up with a butt full of double-ought lead or worse. But now, maybe the growers will be kinder and gentler.
Sam and I wonder if our close loved ones are going to desire marijuana pipes as Christmas gift items. We’re thinking we might try to get Kathleen to join us and we’ll have someone photograph of the three of us wearing Santa Claus hats, standing in a field of marijuana caroling, “We three kooks of Washington are, smoking a marijuana cigar” (ooohh, a big fatty!). If we didn’t sing a Christmas carol we could just warble that song, “North to Olympia, come on the rush is on.” Whatever. It’s really not that important what we sing as long as we remain mellow.
Have you ever seen a Shih Tzu giggle? I swear Sam is giggling and I thought I heard him say to a big German Shepherd passing by, “Hi honey, what’s your name.” Good grief!
I personally am umaflicted by dis mooriyjiuana. I yus freel a lil’ hungary. I
Got sum feerce munchees. Sombrudy wann make sum has browns, er hash brownies?
We shure hope its troo that our peeps are gon’ cum visit us now, ‘cause we reely luv you guys. We get real lonelysome up hyar in the hinderlands. Yew no how boring it is too talk to a reendeer? Is notso bad hear, really. We get sunshine sometimes. We gots lotsa fraish air and green trees.
Three bags ‘a poop on youse if youse don’t come for a visit now and may the spirits of Cheech and Chong haunt you forever.
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