Two stories about the desperate search by police for pot –
This essay is based on memoir notes from my SCOD 2018 road-trip, but police have harassed me several times over the years for many minor traffic violations; usually they just gave me warnings and sometimes a ticket, but their attitude was always accusatory and offensive to be intimidating. The main problem with cops that I want to point out here, is how they are trained to lord their authority over citizens and escalate tensions which causes more problems. The ‘War On Drugs’ is unjust; but although I was more high on the coffee than I was on cannabis, I am not endorsing driving while intoxicated unsafely above legal limits. Laws against the medicinal herb called cannabis are still enforced Federally and most state and county cops still actively search and harass people for it. For those that do not understand the difference between cannabis (pot) intoxication and alcohol, in general pot makes people safer than being sober or high on coffee, because in general a pot driver will drive slower. Sometimes pot also makes the user paranoid so they check for problems more often, and hesitate to take risks. I was warned at the pot shop in Colorado and by highway signs that law enforcement officers were cracking down hard on pot, even though pot was legally being sold for the first time in almost 100 years (see racism and class warfare).
My long SCOD road-trip had gone well up until I entered Nebraska (see my notes on Cahokia & Arcosanti). I was driving from Denver CO going from route 76 to 80 into Nebraska. I saw a cop car (SUV) as I approached an underpass, and the highway narrowed to one lane in a forced merge. I observed the cop tailing me with obvious intent to find any reason to pull me over. I was pulled over by the cop for not signaling on the forced merge with no cars parallel to me, and no tight or shifting positions front to back. I had been told by cops previously not to use my warning lights when pulled over, because they consider that suspiciously incriminating as it competes with their flashy lights; so my reasoning for not using my turn signal when being forced to merge was that I did not want to act overly cautious. My out-of-state plates and car loaded up with bags were juicy for a criminally suspicious mind dedicated to law-enforcement for pay over social sympathy. Everyone knows being a cop is a hard job, because they put their lives on the line; but they can quit if the job is unreasonable, and we can demand legal reform to reduce abuse of power.
Nevada cops probably like to wait there in that forced merge spot, to stop civilian cars for that specific trivial traffic violation to search cars for drugs. The Nebraska County Cop’s name was Anderson, and he was a young white man with a snarky attitude. I had smoked some pot in Colorado hours ago, and was settled in for a safe drive across the state of Nebraska; but Officer Anderson was intent on ruining my trip. After he looked in the passenger window, he told me the feeble reason he pulled me over, and said he smelled pot; so I said that is because I smoked recently.
Officer Anderson then asked me to step out of my vehicle, and if I had any weapons he should know about. I said “No, wait what do you want to know about? What do you consider weapons? I have a walking stick.” “guns”, “no”, “knives”, “yes”, “why?”, “I like knives, they are legal and useful.”, “is this a stolen car?”, “No I own this car, it is mine.” I told Anderson that I am sorry for entering his state of Nebraska, and I could simply return to Colorado if there was going to be a problem.
Anderson patted me down and paused at my pants leg. “whats this? uh-oh, oh a button”. He told me to get in his vehicle with him, in the front passenger seat, as he was detaining me. Anderson flipped many switches, and occasionally I heard noises from the armored cell in the back. Was there an animal or another human back there? The county sheriff’s deputy Anderson then interrogated me with a series of bladerunner type questions to gauge my reactions.
“Where are you coming from?”, “Arizona”, “oh yeah, how did you get there?”, “southern route through Texas, then up through Arizona and Colorado. I am tired from driving all night.”, “oh ok, how long have you been on your trip?”, “A long time”, “how long is that?”, “several weeks”, “that is not long, I consider short time days or weeks, and long time months or years”, “Ok, I meant relative to smaller day trips, im sorry sir”, “are you thirsty?”, and he proceeded to inquire about my personal life, so I explained i was feeling depressed because I had lost my house and did not know where I should live or work.
“Where were you headed?”, “Iowa to visit mom, and then Indiana to visit aunt pat. Maybe im too tired to drive so I need a motel. I slowed down because im trying to not get into an accident by rushing, I would rather take my time.” “it looks like you were ready to drive straight across. where did you say your mom lived? why are you nervous? You said you were coming from Colorado, not Arizona.”
“Yes I am coming from both states, I was in one before the other. ive always been afraid of cops, and last time I was pulled over because i made a wrong turn the night after my father’s funeral. A cop pulled a gun on me for wearing a bandanna, and he threatened to shoot me for getting out of my car because I thought he was a friend.” “That is not good.” “I know. he lost his ability to serve. He was a marine vet with ptsd serving as a park ranger. When i went in to the NPS ranger office to complain about him the next week, they told me they had problems with him and he was no longer there.”
The cop was a buzz-kill for sure, and tears welled up in my eyes as I recalled the times I was bullied by those in uniforms before. The pot I had earlier was sedative indica, but I was being extra safe with average speed and sensible spacing, and I remember everything about this encounter vividly. The cop made me more alert and upset, but I was still more grounded than I would have been without my medication. Yes cannabis helps me to manage my anger, and be a happier person; with a few minor side effects relative to even over-the-counter medications.
“What will I find if I search your car?”, “You will find 1 joint, im not a salesman. I am not good at wanting to ask people for money; nor am I interested in convincing those who want to haggle or disagree, that my price is fair. so you wont find bags of pot. what you will find is bags of legal garden herbs I use for spiritual smoking blends called kinik-kinik: peppermint, lemon balm, mugwort, and mullein. also peacepipes. I admit I like to go to powwows.” “peacepipes are not illegal. ok im going to search your car now. if I only find what you say, you can go with a warning. the sun began to set as he searched every pocket and zipper and bag in my car. he set the colbert bag on the road, for some reason. he looked in the spare tire compartment. he shined the flashlight in my eyes when he could see i was impatient after the sun was setting. I thought for sure he was stealing my cash, planting evidence, and was going to send me to jail.
Finally he said “ok step out of the car, i am going to let you go with a warning because you were honest with me; but first we are going to destroy evidence.” He threw the joint on the road between our cars and said “step on it and crush it” so I did. A perfectly good waste of expensive legal but illegal herb. He then said I can go and pointed me in direction of the exit. “are you sure?” I said “ill need my driver’s license back, because im not that stoned.” he snorted as if to say “dont incriminate yourself by referring to any intoxication” and gave it back. I shook his hand and said thanks for showing me some respect and saving me from a fine and driving while tired; although i later found out he had damaged my grandfather’s briefcase i used for my books, because he was tearing it apart to look for hidden drugs.
When i eventually arrived in Iowa, Uncle Bruce the Corporate Democrat aggressively blamed me for ‘looking like a criminal’, and suggested cops should use more dogs on people like me who “look like one of THEM”. I asked “Who is THEM?” Luckily my Mom was sympathetic, but I have found it too uncomfortable to want to visit my Centrist Liberal relatives there anymore. Bruce also told me that only naive college students are excused for voting for a communist like Bernie Sanders. This fit in with his question about my interest in communes, but I had teased them that their Methodist retirement community was the best kind of communism. The argument I had with Uncle Bruce and Cousin James about music theory is worth an entire essay, on its own (strict reading and playing vs self expression with improvisation / literal vs abstract / classical vs jazz).
In Indiana I had another exciting adventure with Pat Long. We went to the Zoo, and had lots of local coffee before I left (which I should have mentioned to the police later, but was too nervous). Leaving Indiana East to go home: Oak st. south to Sycamore. east to 421. south to 465. east to 70, 43, 40, 68, 70. Traffic was crazy, and Ohio police were out in force pulling tons of cars and trucks over. I thought I had passed all their traps, so I sped up to just over the speed limit so i could pass some of the traffic and get out of that area; when i saw another police vehicle, waiting to pounce, so i signaled and changed lanes quickly, too quickly. Sure enough the SUV started following me too closely for me to slow down, and i felt i was too close to the truck in front of me. The police lights went on after a few seconds of following me, so i pulled over on the dangerous highway.
I was stopped in Ohio by Ohio State Troopers, again for another minor traffic violation that most cars do and are not stopped for; and again released; this time by officer Wilson after a long ordeal with his dog and his Sergeant. I was hyped up on 2 large cups of coffee, so I was fumbling around to quickly get my registration out of my glove compartment, when the cop came up on my passenger window and watched me, obviously suspecting that i was up to no good, and probably had a gun. I was simply nervous and disorganized, but he didnt care. I began by saying “I understand profiling officer, so you can search my car if you want; but I want to explain up front that I have already been pulled over by another officer who already searched my car.” He called in a sergeant who was very matter of fact about finding me at fault because I was driving too close to the vehicle in front of me (which I rarely do). “Do you remember that flat bed truck? How many car lengths were you from it, you think.” I admitted I was too close, and apologized for not being at a safer distance. Then the police dog was led around my car, and scratched at my door. Thankfully they did not use the dog to attack me, but instead they had me step out of my car again and pointed to a spot between our cars, with the roar of the busy highway beside us.
I knelt down on the pavement, allowing them to execute me with a shot to the back of the head if they want. Instead officer Wilson shouted “No! Stand.” So i quickly stood back up, and he patted me down. I explained again to him that I had PTSD with police having guns, and said I could explain why i was “so nervous” (again forgetting i was hyped up on coffee). Fortunately Wilson chose to save me another search of my car, by putting me in the armored cell in the back seat of his vehicle. There he said “Ok, talk.”
Officer Wilson allowed me to explain calmly what my problems are. He called the Nebraska officer Anderson, and confirmed my story with him. Then Wilson asked how that stop ended up, and not wanting to incriminate myself or Anderson (in case he did something illegal by destroying the evidence), i simply said “Yes he found what i told him he would find, and we worked it out.” He thanked me for my honesty. Then Wilson asked if i had other drugs, and I said “No sir, I dont do that shit.” as i stood at attention like they taught me at basic training. Then Wilson said “I am getting a ‘medicinal marijuana vibe’ from you, and said they did not think the dog smelled any existing pot, because as I had explained it was removed previously. I said with a smile, “Yes sir, you are correct.”
I know I have been lucky, I did not suffer any legal penalties. I shook hands with Wilson and I thanked him for not shooting me. He said “Cops are the good guys” and i said “I know police are supposed to be good, and sometimes do good things when they serve and protect. I thank you for your kindness, compassion, and mercy officer.”
Still shaken, I returned home to hear news of more protests against police violence and environmental pollution. I am still shaken to this day, as my mind is haunted by how my life could have been ruined if the cops had been more aggressive, and if I had not been able to manage my anger as much; or how I could have avoided the situations if I had not gone on the road-trip, or not liked herb, or any number of issues.
A city hall meeting was taken over by ‘black lives matter’ protesters in a 2018 video. Men danced across center stage, and vocally and physically showed dominance by public non-violent demonstration art. There was a new court ruling in Massachusetts – “Environmental protests are not criminally responsible by reason of necessity”. Americans are still causing anarchy now, to demand true democracy. The power of the laws rests in the people, and that can best be practiced by deliberate actions. Freedom for self-governing in politics, business, and relationships is important. Laws are made to serve us, not us to serve laws.
I could have been a cop, because using anger to bully others is easy for me. When I was a military soldier, wearing my uniform made me want to use my authority to intimidate and control others, as was done to me during training; despite my best efforts to change their arrogant attitudes that favored using threats and abuse rather than better forms of control through reward. That is when I began to see how primitive our brutish training methods still were. I became sick of being part of a command system that indoctrinated fear and abuse primarily, rather than education and compassion. I thought we had advanced more as a culture, but perhaps fear and abuse are simply easier ways to brainwash and control others to do violence, which is needed to impose the laws of an empire. As much as I dislike St. Paul, I gotta give him credit on this one, for seeing the error of his ways, during his career of authoritarian abuse on behalf of Rome. It is not fun to remember traumatic events, as our minds force us to relive them over and over; but our conscience is telling us they are important for a reason. If we can remember the reason the events might be important, then we can focus on the lessons rather than the trauma. Humanity should focus efforts to relieve suffering, not cause more of it. This is why I use my white privilege to say “All lives matter, not just cops.”
Maybe instead of militarizing the police, we need to use more cannabis and have more of a ‘please force’. To honor civil rights maybe we can regulate laws more like a large urban Mayberry, instead instead of making more fascist troops to relive Nazi Germany. Cowboy culture seems to get in the way of easing racial tensions, but that is another story about economics and greed.
Lastly, cops need weed a bit too much. I know pot is strong medicine, but I am not sure any amount of pot can solve the systemic problem of police aggression. Whoever reforms the system will need to be sympathetic to the good herb, no doubt about it. Cops need weed.
[ Essay Audio Recording ]
Jazz Lounge Song
“Fly me to the moon, because cops need weed.
It ain’t about wall street greed or the dirty deed,
It’s all about STRESS baby. Stress.
So don’t be a dope, take a toke,
Safety first, killing less folk ain’t a joke,
and it won’t matter whether you are rich or broke;
because I love you!”
[ Song Audio Recording ]
SCOD Public Blog 
Cops Need Weed
Posted in Critical Commentary of Civilization, Ethics & Morals, Medical, Military, SCOD Fallout Projects, Uncategorized with tags cannabis, civil, control, cops, County, dogs, enforcement, fascist, fear, laws, legal, Nazi, police, pot, state, system, troopers, violence, weed on June 18, 2020 by DrogoTwo stories about the desperate search by police for pot –
This essay is based on memoir notes from my SCOD 2018 road-trip, but police have harassed me several times over the years for many minor traffic violations; usually they just gave me warnings and sometimes a ticket, but their attitude was always accusatory and offensive to be intimidating. The main problem with cops that I want to point out here, is how they are trained to lord their authority over citizens and escalate tensions which causes more problems. The ‘War On Drugs’ is unjust; but although I was more high on the coffee than I was on cannabis, I am not endorsing driving while intoxicated unsafely above legal limits. Laws against the medicinal herb called cannabis are still enforced Federally and most state and county cops still actively search and harass people for it. For those that do not understand the difference between cannabis (pot) intoxication and alcohol, in general pot makes people safer than being sober or high on coffee, because in general a pot driver will drive slower. Sometimes pot also makes the user paranoid so they check for problems more often, and hesitate to take risks. I was warned at the pot shop in Colorado and by highway signs that law enforcement officers were cracking down hard on pot, even though pot was legally being sold for the first time in almost 100 years (see racism and class warfare).
My long SCOD road-trip had gone well up until I entered Nebraska (see my notes on Cahokia & Arcosanti). I was driving from Denver CO going from route 76 to 80 into Nebraska. I saw a cop car (SUV) as I approached an underpass, and the highway narrowed to one lane in a forced merge. I observed the cop tailing me with obvious intent to find any reason to pull me over. I was pulled over by the cop for not signaling on the forced merge with no cars parallel to me, and no tight or shifting positions front to back. I had been told by cops previously not to use my warning lights when pulled over, because they consider that suspiciously incriminating as it competes with their flashy lights; so my reasoning for not using my turn signal when being forced to merge was that I did not want to act overly cautious. My out-of-state plates and car loaded up with bags were juicy for a criminally suspicious mind dedicated to law-enforcement for pay over social sympathy. Everyone knows being a cop is a hard job, because they put their lives on the line; but they can quit if the job is unreasonable, and we can demand legal reform to reduce abuse of power.
Nevada cops probably like to wait there in that forced merge spot, to stop civilian cars for that specific trivial traffic violation to search cars for drugs. The Nebraska County Cop’s name was Anderson, and he was a young white man with a snarky attitude. I had smoked some pot in Colorado hours ago, and was settled in for a safe drive across the state of Nebraska; but Officer Anderson was intent on ruining my trip. After he looked in the passenger window, he told me the feeble reason he pulled me over, and said he smelled pot; so I said that is because I smoked recently.
Officer Anderson then asked me to step out of my vehicle, and if I had any weapons he should know about. I said “No, wait what do you want to know about? What do you consider weapons? I have a walking stick.” “guns”, “no”, “knives”, “yes”, “why?”, “I like knives, they are legal and useful.”, “is this a stolen car?”, “No I own this car, it is mine.” I told Anderson that I am sorry for entering his state of Nebraska, and I could simply return to Colorado if there was going to be a problem.
Anderson patted me down and paused at my pants leg. “whats this? uh-oh, oh a button”. He told me to get in his vehicle with him, in the front passenger seat, as he was detaining me. Anderson flipped many switches, and occasionally I heard noises from the armored cell in the back. Was there an animal or another human back there? The county sheriff’s deputy Anderson then interrogated me with a series of bladerunner type questions to gauge my reactions.
“Where are you coming from?”, “Arizona”, “oh yeah, how did you get there?”, “southern route through Texas, then up through Arizona and Colorado. I am tired from driving all night.”, “oh ok, how long have you been on your trip?”, “A long time”, “how long is that?”, “several weeks”, “that is not long, I consider short time days or weeks, and long time months or years”, “Ok, I meant relative to smaller day trips, im sorry sir”, “are you thirsty?”, and he proceeded to inquire about my personal life, so I explained i was feeling depressed because I had lost my house and did not know where I should live or work.
“Where were you headed?”, “Iowa to visit mom, and then Indiana to visit aunt pat. Maybe im too tired to drive so I need a motel. I slowed down because im trying to not get into an accident by rushing, I would rather take my time.” “it looks like you were ready to drive straight across. where did you say your mom lived? why are you nervous? You said you were coming from Colorado, not Arizona.”
“Yes I am coming from both states, I was in one before the other. ive always been afraid of cops, and last time I was pulled over because i made a wrong turn the night after my father’s funeral. A cop pulled a gun on me for wearing a bandanna, and he threatened to shoot me for getting out of my car because I thought he was a friend.” “That is not good.” “I know. he lost his ability to serve. He was a marine vet with ptsd serving as a park ranger. When i went in to the NPS ranger office to complain about him the next week, they told me they had problems with him and he was no longer there.”
The cop was a buzz-kill for sure, and tears welled up in my eyes as I recalled the times I was bullied by those in uniforms before. The pot I had earlier was sedative indica, but I was being extra safe with average speed and sensible spacing, and I remember everything about this encounter vividly. The cop made me more alert and upset, but I was still more grounded than I would have been without my medication. Yes cannabis helps me to manage my anger, and be a happier person; with a few minor side effects relative to even over-the-counter medications.
“What will I find if I search your car?”, “You will find 1 joint, im not a salesman. I am not good at wanting to ask people for money; nor am I interested in convincing those who want to haggle or disagree, that my price is fair. so you wont find bags of pot. what you will find is bags of legal garden herbs I use for spiritual smoking blends called kinik-kinik: peppermint, lemon balm, mugwort, and mullein. also peacepipes. I admit I like to go to powwows.” “peacepipes are not illegal. ok im going to search your car now. if I only find what you say, you can go with a warning. the sun began to set as he searched every pocket and zipper and bag in my car. he set the colbert bag on the road, for some reason. he looked in the spare tire compartment. he shined the flashlight in my eyes when he could see i was impatient after the sun was setting. I thought for sure he was stealing my cash, planting evidence, and was going to send me to jail.
Finally he said “ok step out of the car, i am going to let you go with a warning because you were honest with me; but first we are going to destroy evidence.” He threw the joint on the road between our cars and said “step on it and crush it” so I did. A perfectly good waste of expensive legal but illegal herb. He then said I can go and pointed me in direction of the exit. “are you sure?” I said “ill need my driver’s license back, because im not that stoned.” he snorted as if to say “dont incriminate yourself by referring to any intoxication” and gave it back. I shook his hand and said thanks for showing me some respect and saving me from a fine and driving while tired; although i later found out he had damaged my grandfather’s briefcase i used for my books, because he was tearing it apart to look for hidden drugs.
When i eventually arrived in Iowa, Uncle Bruce the Corporate Democrat aggressively blamed me for ‘looking like a criminal’, and suggested cops should use more dogs on people like me who “look like one of THEM”. I asked “Who is THEM?” Luckily my Mom was sympathetic, but I have found it too uncomfortable to want to visit my Centrist Liberal relatives there anymore. Bruce also told me that only naive college students are excused for voting for a communist like Bernie Sanders. This fit in with his question about my interest in communes, but I had teased them that their Methodist retirement community was the best kind of communism. The argument I had with Uncle Bruce and Cousin James about music theory is worth an entire essay, on its own (strict reading and playing vs self expression with improvisation / literal vs abstract / classical vs jazz).
In Indiana I had another exciting adventure with Pat Long. We went to the Zoo, and had lots of local coffee before I left (which I should have mentioned to the police later, but was too nervous). Leaving Indiana East to go home: Oak st. south to Sycamore. east to 421. south to 465. east to 70, 43, 40, 68, 70. Traffic was crazy, and Ohio police were out in force pulling tons of cars and trucks over. I thought I had passed all their traps, so I sped up to just over the speed limit so i could pass some of the traffic and get out of that area; when i saw another police vehicle, waiting to pounce, so i signaled and changed lanes quickly, too quickly. Sure enough the SUV started following me too closely for me to slow down, and i felt i was too close to the truck in front of me. The police lights went on after a few seconds of following me, so i pulled over on the dangerous highway.
I was stopped in Ohio by Ohio State Troopers, again for another minor traffic violation that most cars do and are not stopped for; and again released; this time by officer Wilson after a long ordeal with his dog and his Sergeant. I was hyped up on 2 large cups of coffee, so I was fumbling around to quickly get my registration out of my glove compartment, when the cop came up on my passenger window and watched me, obviously suspecting that i was up to no good, and probably had a gun. I was simply nervous and disorganized, but he didnt care. I began by saying “I understand profiling officer, so you can search my car if you want; but I want to explain up front that I have already been pulled over by another officer who already searched my car.” He called in a sergeant who was very matter of fact about finding me at fault because I was driving too close to the vehicle in front of me (which I rarely do). “Do you remember that flat bed truck? How many car lengths were you from it, you think.” I admitted I was too close, and apologized for not being at a safer distance. Then the police dog was led around my car, and scratched at my door. Thankfully they did not use the dog to attack me, but instead they had me step out of my car again and pointed to a spot between our cars, with the roar of the busy highway beside us.
I knelt down on the pavement, allowing them to execute me with a shot to the back of the head if they want. Instead officer Wilson shouted “No! Stand.” So i quickly stood back up, and he patted me down. I explained again to him that I had PTSD with police having guns, and said I could explain why i was “so nervous” (again forgetting i was hyped up on coffee). Fortunately Wilson chose to save me another search of my car, by putting me in the armored cell in the back seat of his vehicle. There he said “Ok, talk.”
Officer Wilson allowed me to explain calmly what my problems are. He called the Nebraska officer Anderson, and confirmed my story with him. Then Wilson asked how that stop ended up, and not wanting to incriminate myself or Anderson (in case he did something illegal by destroying the evidence), i simply said “Yes he found what i told him he would find, and we worked it out.” He thanked me for my honesty. Then Wilson asked if i had other drugs, and I said “No sir, I dont do that shit.” as i stood at attention like they taught me at basic training. Then Wilson said “I am getting a ‘medicinal marijuana vibe’ from you, and said they did not think the dog smelled any existing pot, because as I had explained it was removed previously. I said with a smile, “Yes sir, you are correct.”
I know I have been lucky, I did not suffer any legal penalties. I shook hands with Wilson and I thanked him for not shooting me. He said “Cops are the good guys” and i said “I know police are supposed to be good, and sometimes do good things when they serve and protect. I thank you for your kindness, compassion, and mercy officer.”
Still shaken, I returned home to hear news of more protests against police violence and environmental pollution. I am still shaken to this day, as my mind is haunted by how my life could have been ruined if the cops had been more aggressive, and if I had not been able to manage my anger as much; or how I could have avoided the situations if I had not gone on the road-trip, or not liked herb, or any number of issues.
A city hall meeting was taken over by ‘black lives matter’ protesters in a 2018 video. Men danced across center stage, and vocally and physically showed dominance by public non-violent demonstration art. There was a new court ruling in Massachusetts – “Environmental protests are not criminally responsible by reason of necessity”. Americans are still causing anarchy now, to demand true democracy. The power of the laws rests in the people, and that can best be practiced by deliberate actions. Freedom for self-governing in politics, business, and relationships is important. Laws are made to serve us, not us to serve laws.
I could have been a cop, because using anger to bully others is easy for me. When I was a military soldier, wearing my uniform made me want to use my authority to intimidate and control others, as was done to me during training; despite my best efforts to change their arrogant attitudes that favored using threats and abuse rather than better forms of control through reward. That is when I began to see how primitive our brutish training methods still were. I became sick of being part of a command system that indoctrinated fear and abuse primarily, rather than education and compassion. I thought we had advanced more as a culture, but perhaps fear and abuse are simply easier ways to brainwash and control others to do violence, which is needed to impose the laws of an empire. As much as I dislike St. Paul, I gotta give him credit on this one, for seeing the error of his ways, during his career of authoritarian abuse on behalf of Rome. It is not fun to remember traumatic events, as our minds force us to relive them over and over; but our conscience is telling us they are important for a reason. If we can remember the reason the events might be important, then we can focus on the lessons rather than the trauma. Humanity should focus efforts to relieve suffering, not cause more of it. This is why I use my white privilege to say “All lives matter, not just cops.”
Maybe instead of militarizing the police, we need to use more cannabis and have more of a ‘please force’. To honor civil rights maybe we can regulate laws more like a large urban Mayberry, instead instead of making more fascist troops to relive Nazi Germany. Cowboy culture seems to get in the way of easing racial tensions, but that is another story about economics and greed.
Lastly, cops need weed a bit too much. I know pot is strong medicine, but I am not sure any amount of pot can solve the systemic problem of police aggression. Whoever reforms the system will need to be sympathetic to the good herb, no doubt about it. Cops need weed.
[ Essay Audio Recording ]
Jazz Lounge Song
“Fly me to the moon, because cops need weed.
It ain’t about wall street greed or the dirty deed,
It’s all about STRESS baby. Stress.
So don’t be a dope, take a toke,
Safety first, killing less folk ain’t a joke,
and it won’t matter whether you are rich or broke;
because I love you!”
[ Song Audio Recording ]
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