When the team behind Initiative 502 wrote their marijuana law, they left the already well-established medical dispensaries and collective gardens out of the equation, assuming they’d be dealt with at a later date. Well, they were dealt with, all right—last week the Governor signed a bill to eliminate both entirely.

 Lawmakers in Olympia had been looking to overhaul the parallel medical- and recreational-marijuana systems, and agreed on a bill (from hell) that will close each and every medical-marijuana dispensary. I’m not going to get all policy-wonky on this and lose my audience in the third sentence. (Still with me?) So lemme just break this down with one simple point:

For millions of Americans, marijuana is medicine. But most of us are not paying attention to this devastating legislative boondoggle, because—for most of us—cannabis is not stopping our seizures, halting our cancers, or helping to ease our chronic pain.

Yes, hundreds of storefronts are currently posing as medicinal dispensaries. And those false fronts are mucking up the legal retail system ushered in by I-502, which is designed to sell weed and collect taxes on said chronic. Still, that’s no excuse to derail a long-established collective that heals and soothes the masses. The problem of rogue green-cross clowns and overgrown gardens can be fixed without eliminating the main source of medicine for a community that’s been the very engine that started the GreenRush in the first place.

BuzzKill Bill 5052 has eliminated every non-I-502 store and suddenly tasked an already overwhelmed state Liquor (and now Cannabis) Control Board with evaluating and licensing a handful of medical dispensaries beginning in July 2016. But while dispensaries linger in the LCB Waiting Room, what might individuals with real medical needs do, exactly? Go back to Big Pharma and the addictive opiates that many of them have kicked by turning to cannabis? And what about those in rural areas that have banned marijuana entirely? Will Grandma with glaucoma get in her wagon and drive from Black Diamond to obtain her organic medicine?

Those on the outside might think patients can simply obtain their meds at a recreational store. But I-502 shops are not set up for—and do not meet the needs of—medical patients. Rec stores sell high-THC products for folks like me who want to get high as a kite for pure fun. As for lower-THC products, low-dose edibles, and specially formulated cannabidiol tinctures, not so much. Just as you wouldn’t send a patient to talk to a bartender about pain relief, your average budtender doesn’t have the hard-earned knowledge of proprietors at medical dispensaries, many of whom have been working hand-in-hand with farmers and MMJ companies since passage of the Medical Use of Marijuana Initiative in 1998.

Different patients use different products to alleviate their suffering: elixirs, cannabis juices, topicals, CBD oils, suppositories, and particular strains that have been fine-tuned, tested, and refined over a period of years. Safe access to thousands of these unique products will no longer be available—because rec stores won’t stock them. Why would they, when Bubba Kush and Sour Diesel are flying off the shelves? And the common practice of medical dispensaries giving marijuana to low-income patients? Not. Gonna. Happen. In fact, the new law slaps a 30 percent excise tax on medical sales.

There’s also a not-so-little legal problem. Bill 5052 mandates that in order for medical patients to receive their marijuana allotment (which has been lowered from 24 ounces to three), they must “voluntarily” put their names on a registry or database. The patient registry forces them to admit to a federal felony—not a great choice for anyone who is interested in holding public office, in a custody dispute, or applying for a job that employs background checks. And I’m no lawyer, but folks a lot smarter than me have pointed out that turning medical-marijuana regulations and oversight over to a Liquor Control Board is probably in violation of a whole lotta laws on the books at both the Food and Drug Administration and Department of Justice, not to mention that the registry is in clear violation of federal HIPAA laws.

One thing is for sure: Individuals and families being aided by cannabis are not going to go away just because we passed some dimwitted bill that eliminates their medical access. As you or I would, they’ll do whatever it takes to remain healthy. They will operate underground, thrive in the black market, and risk prison to produce and distribute medicine to their veteran husbands, elderly parents, debilitated wives, and seizing children.

Our Grand Cannabis Experiment does need to be tinkered with, but not at the expense of the medical community. If we’re going to do this right, unlike the federal government, we must acknowledge and respect that cannabis is used to truly heal our loved ones in a myriad of ways for a plethora of ailments. To herd patients into pot stores, take away their choices, eliminate their ability to speak to medical professionals in a safe environment, and force them to sign a registry admitting that they are felons? That’s not compassionate care, and it’s not what true legalization should look like.

Shooting down a few anti-legalization arguments.

“They’re talking about opening a weed stand, or whatever, right next to my kids’ school,” the woman began, reaching for a plastic cup of wine during ArtWalk. “I mean, they’re already getting drunk. Now this will make a second thing we’re allowing for!”

I gently reminded her that both of those things were illegal for minors, but she would have none of it.

“Seriously. The parties they go to are beyond,” she said, gazing at an out-of-this-world painting on the gallery wall. “From eighth grade on, there is alcohol at most of their socials. That’s already happening. So to add another drug that can mess up their minds . . . ”

I understood the fear she was experiencing. Parenting is terrifying. I get it; I had a teenage daughter once. (Good lord.) But one way to alleviate some of the fear about our kids having sex or smoking dope or getting shot on the playground is by clarifying some of the misinformation and having open dialogue. (That’s the theory.)

“To be honest, I’d rather have my kid on weed than alcohol, ma’am.” She was only a few years older than me, but we hadn’t been properly introduced. “I mean, alcohol kills 46,000 people a year, prescription drug ODs kill another 17,000. And let’s not forget cigarettes!” (440,000 deaths a year.) “And so when it comes to these kids drinking and driving or smoking and driving . . . I’d prefer they had cannabis.”

Jesus. I’d wanted to come off as even-handed and open-minded, and now I was advocating that the youngsters hotbox in their daddy’s Chevrolet.

“Do you have kids!?” she inquired. “It’s hard enough. I mean, the store is going to be right there. At the foot of the school!”

I didn’t want to get into the specifics of her increasingly incoherent argument—in Washington state, recreational shops must be at least 1,000 feet from schools, playgrounds, libraries, game arcades, public-transit centers, or parks. But I did feel the need to make one point.

“I’m sorry, miss—what was your name?”

“Jane.”

“Hi, Jane. Can I call you Mary Jane?” (Blank stare.) “I’m kidding. Listen, I totally agree that we should try to keep drugs away from young people.” I felt myself go into talking-points mode, but I couldn’t stop. “And I know this seems counterintuitive, but teen drug use has gone down in the states where it’s legal. That’s just a fact.”

I knew right when it came out of my mouth that it was too preachy, but I’ve learned a few things writing this column. One is that kids don’t know shit about cannabis, other than that it is, and always has been, easy to get. A new 2014 Health Use Survey shows that a significant number of 10th and 12th graders don’t believe there are risks in weekly marijuana use. (On this, they’re obviously pinheads—pot is not great for the developing brain.) It also found that parents were also clueless: Only 57 percent knew the legal age of recreational weed (as compared to 71 percent of kids), and only 63 percent understood you’re not allowed to grow it at home.

“Why make matters worse?” she railed, spilling chardonnay on my shoes. “There are already so many drugs: They take Ecstasy and prescription pills! I’m telling you—what I heard is that they walk right in and order, like a Starbucks or something.”

“Thing is, Jane, recreational-marijuana stores are not selling to high-school kids. They’re just like bars—they don’t want to get shut down for not checking IDs. Besides, whoever is selling your kid a bag of weed behind the Port-a-Pottys at Lakeside is not going to be asking if they’re 21, and there won’t be a warning label listing the THC levels.”

We stared at a painting that could have been a giant bong or a lovely vase—it kind of depended on your perspective.

“The new stuff is just so much stronger, you can OD on it,” she said with a smile-ish smirk that made me want to hug-strangle her. “I read something in the paper about synthetic marijuana killing these kids at a party in Florida.”

“Yes, and they should stop calling it marijuana. AstroTurf would be a better name, because it’s not really marijuana. Jane, there are all kinds of deadly drugs out there, but pot’s never killed anyone. Not one person.”

I was going to ask her if she’d ever tried cannabis, but could tell I’d already pushed her personal boundaries. “Have you talked to your . . . daughter, is it? About weed?” I asked meekly. “About marijuana?”

Her eyebrows would have gone higher if they could have. “Talked? To her about pot?! What would we say? I mean, she knows we don’t approve.”

“That’s great! A recent study from the UW showed that kids listen to their parents more than anyone else—even their own friends. And the ones who know their parents disapprove are way less likely to try pot.”

“Well that’s good, I guess,” she replied, looking me in the eye for the first time.

“The other thing is that talking to kids about weed works better than punishment.” A raised eyebrow. “In this study [from the UW’s School of Social Work], students who got suspended after smoking pot kept smoking pot. But if the kid gets sent to a counselor, they’re 50 percent less likely to smoke!”

“I assume you get stoned.”

I pulled the wine bottle out of the tub of ice. “I use all kinds of legal drugs, Jane,” I said, topping us off. “Takes the edge off of being a grown-up . . . ”

This article first appeared in the Seattle Weekly.

At 76, the pater familias of the legalization movement won’t slow down.

Michael Stusser’s column appears weekly on HigherGroundtv.com as well as the Seattle Weekly and other newspapers around the country.

I’ll be honest. My expectations about a press conference with Tommy Chong, of the famous stoner duo Cheech & Chong, were that there would be some clichéd humor, some pantomimed puffing, and photo ops galore for hippies of a bygone era. And there was some of that. But there was also something I didn’t expect: a fresh perspective on the new pot movement.

The reason Tommy Chong matters—and the reason I’m writing about his recent visit to Seattle’s CannaCon—is that each and every time there’s a mention of legalization or the counterculture or pot smoking, there’s inevitably a reference to Cheech & Chong. Even if the name is never spoken, a haze of Cheech & Chong wafts through the mind. (See?!)

The new conventional wisdom is that the cliché stoner jokes that found purchase in the duo’s franchise are outmoded and of a different era. But what if the beliefs that undergird these jokes are not passé? What if they’re an iconic and important set of core values still relevant—values that should not be lost as we move into a ganjapreneurial era driven by economic and opportunistic rationales?

“We’ve got a great show going on here,” Chong noted at his February 20 press conference, “but everybody here is breaking the law and subject to arrest according to our government. Even though we voted legalization in, and the people spoke, we still have police and a government that’s out to arrest us.” The man knows of what he speaks: In 2003 Chong was arrested, convicted, and put in federal prison for nine months. Not for selling or smoking marijuana, but for having legally licensed his name to a company (Chong Glass/Nice Dreams) that made water pipes—bongs—that were sold across state lines. I can tell you that if I was tossed in the slammer for nine months, I would have exited one angry motherfucker. Not our friend Tommy Chong.

“I got singled out—and ya know what? I feel blessed!” Chong said with his infamous and mischievous grin. “I was looking for something to revitalize my career. Cheech and I were fading into the distance and I needed something. And then it came. It was like my prayers were answered: You’re going to jail! Great! That’s the way I looked at it.”

Today Chong puts his name on everything from hemp water (Chongwater!) to Chong Star marijuana to Smoke Swipes (for the parent who goes out to fire up and doesn’t want to return to the dinner table reeking of weed). But his philosophical attitude isn’t an act. He’s a product of the ’60s and walks the talk—mainly about pot.

“Pot’s only good if you give it to someone or you smoke it. You don’t have to hoard it. Because in a few months, you’ll have a new crop! So you gotta give it away! That’s what you gotta do with your life. That’s the secret! You gotta give love!”

The more I listened to this smiling, effervescent 76-year-old ramble, the more I realized why he is such a joyous inspiration. Sure, there are cliched truths about “hippies” that I don’t fully embrace: the lack of showering, the unkempt beards, and those Godawful tie-dyed T-shirts. But the core values of these counterculture beatniks? Peace, love, and understanding? An “It’s all good” outlook? Communal interests? Harmony with nature? Egalitarianism? Sustainability? Positive vibrations? Good lord! Tell me we couldn’t use more of the “Make Love Not War” mindset in this divisive FoxNews era of angry, trolling, Twittering punditry.

Chong was half an hour late for his news conference, and catching a glimpse of the icon slowly ambling down the convention hall, I saw why. He stopped for each and every stoner, head, hanger-on, and pothead who’d jumped at the chance to get a photo with the legend.

“It’s true,” Chong noted during his hour-long chat. “I’ll take a picture with anybody. And there’s a reason for that. We don’t have much time. We think we do—especially when we’re young. But we don’t.” Chong knows this better than most, after beating prostate cancer with the help of the CBD oils in, yes, marijuana. “When someone asks for a pic, that’s a compliment. They’re not asking everyone—they’re asking me! It’s not a burden. It’s a privilege! Most people my age will either be retired or limping around. Me? I’m going Dancing With the Stars!”

Four decades after Up in Smoke, Tommy Chong is hardly couchlocked, but still a relevant player in the marijuana movement. He’s been a vocal supporter of another group being singled out for using weed, the Kettle Falls 5. He may no longer be the official face of marijuana: the new Green Rush lends itself to sexy budtenders and Seth Rogan and Snoop. But I sure wish he was.

Several tribes will discuss this weekend whether they want to get into the cannabiz.

Michael Stusser’s column appears weekly on HigherGroundtv.com as well as the Seattle Weekly and other newspapers around the country.

It should be noted that I’m not exactly a shill for the marijuana industry. (Though product samples can be dropped off at the Weekly offices: make sure to mark packages “Legal Marijuana” lest they be confiscated by the federal post office.) That said, when there’s positive news related to cannabis, given my predilection for smoking the stuff, I have every intention of highlighting the study, report, innovation, or miracle cure—if only to counter the hundred years of Reefer Madness propaganda that came before. (They did have cool posters . . . ) With that pot-infused preamble in place, it’s time for a joke:

What’s the difference between a drunk driver and a stoned driver at a stop sign? The drunkard hauls right past, while the stoner waits for the sign to turn green.

A study released last week by the U.S. National Highway Traffic Safety Administration shows no link between marijuana use and car accidents. And while that’s no green light to smoke a fatty and jump into the Caddy, it’s yet another death knell to the “Just Say No” talking points.

Data from the Roadside Survey of Alcohol and Drug Use by Drivers showed that booze increases a driver’s accident risk sevenfold. The road risk for people who test positive for marijuana, after adjusting for other factors, is the same as driving sober. Translation: Measurable amounts of THC in a person’s system doesn’t correlate to impairment as drinking and driving do. “At the current time,” states the NHTSA report, “specific drug concentration levels cannot be reliably equated with specific degree of driver impairment.”

In defense of the pharmaceutical industry (who are also welcome to send in samples), the use of painkillers, stimulants, and antidepressants also showed no statistically significant change in accident risk.

After alcohol, THC is the most common substance found in car crashes, and its presence increased the odds of smashing into something 25 percent. That risk, however, disappears after adjusting for variables like gender, age, and race. For example, men and young people are more insane drivers than women and the aged—and they’re also more likely to smoke ganja. Once you adjust for these factors, “the significant increased risk of crash involvement associated with THC . . . is not found.” Another complicating factor has to do with THC staying in the bloodstream for weeks on end, so while you may test positively after a fender-bender, you may also have been mellowing out (and unimpaired) for days.

Clearly, it’s best if people don’t drive under the influence of marijuana. Hell, some people shouldn’t be driving under the influence of their own power . . . because they suck. I’m only 50 years old and can barely see at night; they should revoke my license because of the odd raccoon-sized floaty-things that periodically drift across my retinas. Sorry, I digress. The most important thing for marijuana users to note is, while you’re not nearly as bad as the boozers on the road, it’s best to get baked and remain couchlocked. Who wants to fire up and sit in a steel cage, anyway? Stoned driving’s just not cool, man.

TRIBAL MARIJUANA RIGHTS RECOGNIZED

The Justice Department announced in December that it would allow Native American tribes to grow and sell marijuana on their sovereign lands, which sounds about right, since THEY WERE HERE FIRST.

Tribal governments are now trying to figure out whether they want to get into the ganja game, and have scheduled a national conference on the matter to be held here in Washington on February 27.

The Affiliated Tribes of Northwest Indians, representing about 50 tribes, passed a resolution last year opposing legalization on their lands (partly due to health and safety concerns for their youth), while Washington’s Suquamish said they were exploring their options for production and sale. The Yakama tribe, with more than 10,000 members, also wants no part of legal weed, and outlawed it on both their own land (1.2 million acres) and the ancestral property (10 million acres) they ceded to the federal government.

So long as they do it in accordance with the federal guidelines set up for states that have legalized marijuana for recreational or medicinal use, any of the 568 recognized Native American tribes can grow or sell the plant. One key sidenote: When you leave the rez in a non-legal state, you damn well better leave the Kalamazoo Kush and Chinook Chronic behind, or you’re liable to be busted, big time.

The first Tribal Marijuana Conference will be held at the Tulalip Resort Casino. Tribes will pow-wow, so to speak, to discuss the future of cannabis on their territories, including cultural issues it may raise and concerns about substance abuse. Hopefully they won’t have to sit through Tulalip regulars like Engelbert Humperdinck, Billy Idol, or Tom Jones. These wonderful people have suffered enough.

Plus: Olympia’s plan to raise the smoking age.

Michael Stusser’s column appears weekly on HigherGroundtv.com as well as the Seattle Weekly and other newspapers around the country.

Marijuana-related business—and the cold, hard cash that comes with it—is the driving force behind the current Green Rush. In Washington and Colorado alone, consumers purchased $370 million worth of cannabis products in 2014. The U.S. market for legal ganja was $2.7 billion—up 75 percent from the previous year. If growth continues—and it will as more states legalize (most predict at least 15 more in the next five years, including California in 2016)—the projected numbers could soar to $11 billion by 2019. I don’t suggest investing in green stocks (after all, most of these businessmen and -women were literally drug dealers last year), but the dope frenzy is just getting started. So this week, let’s start with a market report.

GIRL SCOUT PUSHERS
The best ganjapreneurial story thus far hasn’t been about a boutique grower, high-tech vape, or artisan edible—it was a Girl Scout! For the second year in a row, 14-year old Danielle Lei has set up shop outside San Francisco’s Green Cross medical dispensary and sold boxes of cookies like gangbusters. (What a surprise!) This year the Super-Scout sold 208 boxes in two hours. While there have been no such efforts from the Seattle-based GS Troops (perhaps pestering potheads in front of Cannabis City is too politically incorrect in the Evergreen State), it does make me wonder if the Girl Scouts of America should make a licensing deal with some big-time edible maker. They could broker a hefty up-front fee and royalty, and allow Bhang Chocolates or 420Bars to make THC-Mints and Cannabis DeLites! Just don’t give any to Maureen Dowd. She’ll chow the whole box.

SMOKIN’ SINGLES
Another overlooked market in the marijuana space is the meet market. Over one-third of all couples married since 2005 met online. In addition to match.com and eHarmony, other dating sites help narrow the pool: VeggieDate is for vegetarians looking for love (and a salad), Equestrian Singles hooks up horse-lovers (that sounds weird), TrekPassions transports Trekkies together (“Live love and prosper!”), and Tastebuds attempts to unite music lovers of similar genres. (You’d hate to find out too far down the line that her favorite band is Mumford & Sons.) And now there’s a dating site that connects frisky 20-somethings by their common interest . . . in weed! High There is basically a Tinder app for stoners that matches not only the way you like to get high (bongs, vapes, edibles) but your energy level once you’re fully baked (while marijuana turns me into a hyperactive dancing housecleaner, others may prefer to remain couch-locked . . . ). It’s funny: People used to list drug use as a way to weed out potential paramours.

THE KETTLE FALLS 5
With all the openness of weed dating sites and potrepreneurs selling their wares in broad daylight, let’s not forget growing cannabis is still a federal crime, even here in Washington. In a high-profile case, five Stevens County residents, known as the Kettle Falls 5, are looking at mandatory 10-year sentences for growing marijuana for medical purposes and in compliance with state law. The U.S. attorney is of the mind that the collective had more weed than they needed and were selling ganja to others—thus they raided the property in August 2012 and seized 75 plants. Given the recent passage of the Cromnibus spending bill that bans any Department of Justice funds (read bulldozers, DEA submachine guns, etc.) from being spent on prosecuting medical-marijuana patients who comply with state law, the defendants were hoping to have the case dismissed. U.S. District Court Judge Thomas Rice instead dismissed the argument, and the trial is scheduled to begin Feb. 23 in Spokane. It’ll be hard for the family to build much of a defense, as medical marijuana doesn’t exist (and thus can’t be argued) at the federal level. The case should be a bellwether regarding future legal actions against medical collectives. On a side note, family patriarch Larry Harvey probably won’t have to stand trial . . . because he has Stage IV pancreatic cancer.

PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND WAIT TO SMOKE IT
Finally, a bill being sponsored in the legislature by Rep. Tina Orwall would make Washington the first state in the country to raise the smoking age from 18 to 21. This point is moot for potheads, as the legal marijuana smoking age is already 21—not to mention the (almost unbelievable) study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association which shows that moderate long-term cannabis smoking is not associated with negative lung health. So let’s dogpile on tobacco—which will kill ya: Attorney General Bob Ferguson, who claims smoking kills 8,000 Washingtonians a year, strongly supports the idea of raising the puffing age. “We know that 95 percent of teens who don’t smoke by the time they are 21 never end up smoking,” he said. “It’s really important we are limiting access in those teenage years.” It’s estimated that a raise in the smoking age from 18 to 21 would cost the tobacco industry $20 million a year. Ya know what business they might get into to make up for those losses? Welcome to Marijuana-boro Country . . .