Paul Andersen: Fair Game
December 13, 2009
It’s a quiet day at the medical marijuana clinic when a limo pulls up to the door. A man gets out and hurries in.
“I’ve got to see the doctor!” demands the man. He wears a perfectly tailored suit and is impeccably coifed. The receptionist looks him over. “Oh, you again.”
She enters a door and closes it behind her. The man fidgets, checks his Blackberry, drums his fingers on the countertop. “Come … on!” he pleads. The nurse returns. “He’ll see you, now,” she says. The man rushes in.
“Doc!” he says to a laid back hippie in a tie-dyed T-shirt and dreads. “I’m desperate! You gotta refill my prescription!”
“That’s three refills this week, dude. What’s your problem this time – halitosis?”
“Look … I’m just trying to hold it all together,” says the man. “Yeah,” nods the doctor, “aren’t we all.”
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The man leans over the desk. “The economy is killing me!” The doctor nods again. “You and everybody else.” The man paces the room. “Doc, I just can’t make peace in my world. It’s all coming unraveled.”
The doctor scrutinizes him. “You need another batch of brownies just because you can’t make peace in your world?”
“If you don’t believe me, look at this!” The man shoves a recent copy of Time at him. The cover blares: “The Decade from Hell.” He thumps the magazine. “Next they’ll be naming Satan as ‘Person of the Year.’ The world’s goin’ to hell in a hand basket!”
The doctor glances at the cover. “You know what I prescribe, man? I prescribe a marijuana card for everybody in this crazy world because nothing else has the power to transform society – not religion, art, music, poetry, sports, and certainly not politics.”
“You’re right!” enthuses the man. “We all need to live by higher ideals! It should start with Congress. You wanna know how to break the logjam on health care? Give every legislator on Capitol Hill a brownie for lunch! Now that would be a breakthrough!”
“Now you’re talking,” says the doctor. “Pot is definitely the answer. Ten million hippies can’t be wrong.”
“So, you’ll do it? You’ll refill my prescription?”
“Yeah, but only under certain circumstances.”
“Just tell me and I’ll do it – anything!”
“First, you gotta make sure that National Science grants go to the pot cultivators. These guys are doing world class agronomy and they deserve more than FFA ribbons.”
“You got it!” shouts the man.
“Second, throw a Grateful Dead reunion concert on the White House lawn and open it to the people – no charge.”
“Sure, whatever you say,” enthuses the man.
“Third, give back that Nobel. You can’t accept a freakin’ peace prize when you’re making war, man! Don’t you get that, Mister Obama?”
“Look, Doc, you give me an open-ended prescription and I’ll cope with anything – conservatives, liberals, rednecks, Arabs, Jews, Christians, Chinese, Indians, Europeans, Pakistanis, Afghans, the media … I’ll even appear on a Christmas special with Oprah!”
“Done,” laughs the doctor. “But, Mister President … dude. You’ve gotta pace yourself. There aren’t enough brownies in the world to cover your second term.”
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