I made it. I’m on the list. I should
be ecstatic.
There
it is. Muscular dystrophy. That’s me. I’m smack
in the middle of the list of conditions that now
make one eligible to legally receive medical marijuana in Illinois. I’m right there
among a bunch of other lucky bustards who have conditions like arachnoiditis, Tarlov cysts, hydromyelia,
syringomyelia or cachexia aka wasting syndrome.
The law took effect January 1. For some cripples on
that list, this means the moment of complete liberation has finally arrived. All the years
of political struggle have finally have paid off with the ultimate legislative
victory. For some cripples I know, all they want is a warm place to take their
daily dump and the right to get high in peace. Of course I know plenty of
people like that who aren’t crippled, too. Who doesn’t?
For those cripples,
utopia is finally here. And all you need to enter is a doctor’s prescription. And this utopia
is a much sweeter place when only cripples can get in and only certain cripples
at that. If this was a state like
Colorado where any old slob can waltz in and buy pot, it would take almost all
the fun out it because that would take away the revenge factor. Cripples on the
medical marijuana VIP list can use the new law to get even with all the punks
who used to call them spaz. The VIP cripples can throw a Bygones-be-Bygones
party and invite all the punks who used to call them spaz. Then the VIP
cripples can gleefully blow smoke in the faces of the punks and say, “Don’t you
wish you were a spaz now, mofo?”
There’s another great reason I should sign up right
away. The law allows cripples who qualify for medicinal pot to select a “designated
caregiver” to assist in administering their pot. This would enable me to
finally provide some upward mobility for the members of my pit crew. Whoever
plays their cards right gets promoted by me to the position of designated
caregiver. There’s no extra pay but there’s a definite fringe benefit.
Technically, the designated caregiver isn’t allowed to partake of my stash but
hey, if I happen to turn my back for a few minutes---.
Rahnee’s on the list, too. Rheumatoid arthritis.
That’s her. We should both sign up right now. We could take our legal pot and
say fuck it all and go spend the rest of our lives someplace where it’s always
warm and comfortable, like our couch.
There’s no good reason why I shouldn’t sign up. So
why haven’t I? Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m one of those
greedy, grabby, entitled cripples who’s never satisfied. You let them get high
with impunity and they still want more. They still insist on being “full
participants in society” and blah blah blah.
I should just declare victory, take my pot and go
home. Full liberation is just a prescription away.
