At least now, when TV network executives cancel a series I enjoyed and I ask myself, "What were they thinking? Were they high?" I will have the comfort of knowing the answer to the second question is very probably, "Yes."
It's not much comfort -- they were already likely to be enjoying the warm glow of brain cells dissolving in alcohol and the confident, malformed judgement that comes with it -- but it's something.
Somewhere in the hereafter, Harry Anslinger is seething.
(Although I am very nearly teetotal myself and not even slightly tempted by herbacious inhalations, the tragic damfoolery around pot has done for it precisely what Prohibition did for alcohol use and abuse, not to mention organized crime. Comes a time to face up to what doesn't work and try something else. True in 1933, true today.)
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