It's often been said that Pennsylvania is actually two states, not one. These two
states are:
1)
Philadelphia, and
2) All
the rest of Pennsylvania that ain't Philadelphia.
For the most
part, Philadelphia views all the rest of Pennsylvania
that ain't Philadelphia as composed of hayseeds in romantic love with the
Second Amendment, and all the rest of Pennsylvania that ain't Philadelphia
views Philadelphia as the world's foremost hotbed of sin, wickedness, and depravity.
Notwithstanding the
failure of Philadelphia to live anywhere near up to its reputation when it
comes to me, however, it seems that the world’s foremost hotbed of sin,
wickedness, and depravity is poised to score a major victory over the rest
of Pennsylvania. That is, over the rest of Pennsylvania that ain't it.
Now my
dope smoking days are rather solidly in the rear view mirror, but this bit of
news coupled with the various aches, pains, and coronaries of modern Boomer
life got me to thinking that it might not be half bad if certain objects in the
rear view mirror turned out to be closer than they seem.
So I
called my family doctor.
"Dr.
Kropotkin! I can't believe I got you on the phone."
"Well,
you know I'm very busy.
Who is this?"
"This
is your longstanding patient, Perry Block."
"OMG,
I’m really, really busy,
gotta go!"
"You
know, Dr. Kropotkin, sometimes I wonder if you actually are that busy
or if it's me."
"Mostly
it's you. You have 30 seconds."
"Doctor,
I understand medical marijuana may be coming to Pennsylvania soon."
"So
they say. Twenty-five seconds left."
"Well,
I want to get on your radar for some dope --- I mean medical marijuana --- when
the time comes."
"Perry, I
can't prescribe medical marijuana for no reason at all."
"No
reason at all?!! I'm a virtual walking ER of symptoms!"
"Such
as?"
"My
scoliosis. You know my spine is shaped like the piping under your
kitchen sink."
"Perry,
medical marijuana is not going to straighten your spine."
"I
know, but the more I sit around contemplating the universe the less likely I am
to care about it."
"Twenty
seconds."
"Don't
forget I have vitiligo. I have white patches all over my skin!"
"Perry, your dermatologist Dr. Joy Davis has advised me your case of vitiligo is not that bad."
"Not
that bad? Cruella de Vil has been stalking me for my coat!"
"Fifteen
seconds."
"Eye
floaters."
"Everybody
has eye floaters."
"Mine
are the size of a Buick."
"Buicks
are fashionable now. Look, over there, that guy getting out of one outside the nightclub: that's not your grandpa! Ten seconds."
"Very
painful corns, Dr. Kropotkin."
"Go
to the foot doctor and get them cut off."
"I'll
never make it. You have to walk across a former Civil War battlefield to get to
her office."
"Five
seconds, and I'm free."
"Aren't
you forgetting something very important, doctor?"
"For
the sake of the medical profession, I hope not."
"My
psychological problems: Rampant insecurity, aging angst, and my desire to
return to the womb provided they put in a wet bar."
"Oh,
crap! Okay, how many ounces do you need and what flavor do you
prefer?"
"I'll
leave that up to your professional judgment. And oh, Dr. Kropotkin?
"Yes?"
"Could
you also write me a script for a very nice bong and a psychedelic poster of
Jimi Hendrix?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you liked this post, you may also like Rocky Mountain High, Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?, and
It’s Always Smokey in Philadelphia.
If you hated this post, I hope your doctor writes you a script
for Medical Marijuana and it turns out to be oregano!
