Above are both sides of a business card I found today on my car's windshield. (Notice the misspelling of "compassionate" on one side, and "prescription" on the other. Proof, yet again, that stoners don't use spell check.)

I've lived in California all of my life---in Cupertino, San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley, Santa Cruz, Los Angeles, San Diego. I know from stoners. But this is new. This is stoners and doctors joining forces. Before this, the only thing doctors and stoners had in common was that they both used these things:

Now finding a licensed physician in California who will write you a prescription for "medical" marijuana is like finding a homeless person who'll take a dollar you offer them. Not exactly a challenge. You write Dr. Roachclip a check ($99!); he writes you your prescription for pot.

Badda-bing, bodda-bong.

And look! Once you've got your pot prescription, you never have to leave your house!

A silver lining on this dark cloud is that if you've got financial worries, they're over. All you have to do is invest every last penny you have in Cheetoes and frozen pizzas. Now.

I fear our standards are slipping so low we'll soon have none at all. God help us remember and be loyal to His desires for us.

Related posts o' mine: Proof People Get Stoned at Work, and My Visit to a Marijuana Anonymous Meeting.

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