Take High Street, then turn left.

It hit like a ton of bricks. Consider having a red-hot metal rod shoved in your ear, down the Eustachian tube and into the throat. I feel like shit.

Okay, so I’m going to try to remedy this naturally. Some hot tea, some ear drops, all in supply at my neighborhood Kroger. A good 20-25 linear feet of tea to choose from. Properly picked leaves, ground up and sealed in a nice flow-through bag.

Near the pharmacy, twice as many linear feet of tablets made from plants. I can’t even spell those words, though I do remember “Horny Goat Weed”. I bought garlic. Plant extract for better circulation, more flexible joints, greater mental awareness…the list goes on.

Tonight I’m drinking tea because I’m not feeling so well. Other times, I enjoy it while reading a book or magazine. Sometimes its shared over conversation with a friend. It was in my ill state that I realized that marijuana is really no different. It’s a plant. It has various uses and those that use it, enjoy it.

A young professional can enjoy tea while reading the New York Times somewhere along High Street on any given Sunday morning.
How urban.

In Clintonville, a blue algae enema will cleanse the soul, as well as makes it into the ad for the new spa in Grandview.
Aware, very aware.

When a dude in Franklinton wants to smoke a doob and relax to a Nikelback album, he should be able to walk into Kroger and pick it up, just like everyone else’s plant extracts.
That’s socially irresponsible.

Package it, sell it, tax it. Hell, give it 20 linear feet of sales exposure. Make some money off the shit, take it off the street and advertise it. It’s an age old debate, but tonight, it really sank in. What if it was the only thing that would make me feel better?