OUT: Don’t Bogart that joint!
IN: Don’t Dowd that candy!
You probably just assumed that MoDo gets super-duper high every time she sits down to write. It explains everything. But no, apparently not:
The caramel-chocolate flavored candy bar looked so innocent, like the Sky Bars I used to love as a child.
Sitting in my hotel room in Denver, I nibbled off the end and then, when nothing happened, nibbled some more. I figured if I was reporting on the social revolution rocking Colorado in January, the giddy culmination of pot Prohibition, I should try a taste of legal, edible pot from a local shop…
For an hour, I felt nothing…
But then I felt a scary shudder go through my body and brain. I barely made it from the desk to the bed, where I lay curled up in a hallucinatory state for the next eight hours. I was thirsty but couldn’t move to get water. Or even turn off the lights…
As it turns out, you’re supposed to cut a candy bar like that into 16 pieces, not wolf it down like a Snickers.
She goes on to make some good points about the dangers of edible marijuana and the need for better labeling. Nobody wishes any pot-related harm on little kids or newspaper columnists.
What do you guys think? If it’s good enough for future Presidents of the United States, why not the rest of us?
It’s not without its dangers, of course. I don’t buy the “gateway drug” scare tactics, but you don’t want everybody driving around stoned to the bone. They should Dowd it out in their luxury hotel rooms and then write hilarious columns about it.
Wonder what she eats when she gets the munchies? Caviar? That’s what fancy rich people eat, right?
Update: Are you sleepy, but you’re not feeling paranoid enough about it? Good news!