Marijuana, are we putting too much pressure on you?

A lot of people are talking about what Marijuana can do for them. 

For years it’s been praised as a pain reliever for back pain or headaches.  It’s also used to induce or suppress appetite, calm anxiety, or improve circulation.

According to proponents of the legalization measure (prop 19), marijuana doesn't just relieve physical or psychosomatic complaints, it also cures border violence, prison crowding and cumulative economic ailments.

I hear that pot will fix the drug violence on the Mexican border, but how that is supposed to happen, I don’t know.  Is anyone really expecting the whole thing to end?  Like, everyone in Mara Salvatrucha is going to get laid off because the pot they’ve been trying to sell just became legal to their target market?

We just can’t say how this legalization could affect the virtually invisible drug market, trafficking from Mexico could increase for all we know.  The cartels could get an American business license and sell it here in neat little white and green packs with a grinning sombreroed man on the seal.  It’ll be the next Corona.

I also hear that prop 19 will thin out our prisons since marijuana possession will no longer be a crime.  First of all, none of these new releases are going to be boy scouts.  Second, all of these prisoners are going to create a sudden and unexpected pressure on our job market when they begin taking jobs.  Well, maybe. (I don’t know which is worse).

The taxes generated by prop 19 are also supposed to save our finances.  The State Board of Equalization originally claimed that marijuana’s legalization could generate $1.4 billion in tax revenues.  But that was then. 

Now, they admit to having no idea what is going to happen.  Their original estimate was based on Assemblyman Tom Ammiano’s suggestion of $50 per ounce, but that was just an arbitrary, almost hypothetical figure.  They don’t even have a plan for tax implementation, and their analysis says that coming up with such a system is going to be “difficult.”

Making pot available over the counter is also supposed to eliminate crime surrounding street drug dealing to some degree.  After all, why buy drugs from a guy in an alley when you can safely choose from 20 different kinds at the pot store.

This ignores two things.  First, it fails to see that drug dealers handle more than just cannabis, meaning other substances will undoubtedly remain in street trade, and possibly expand to fill marijuana’s economic void.  Second, depending on price changes, holding or transporting large amounts of cannabis could make you a target for violent theft. 

At this point, I feel like legalization is inevitable, if not imminent.  I don't think we should put so much responsibility on pot to fix our problems, I think we should just smoke it.  My main question is, how can I make money off of this?

Plan A, I could begin a standard drug sales operation.  Buy cannabis, sell it for a profit, only walk away with enough margin for a cup of coffee. 

Plan B, would be to start a homegrown operation.  Buy lights, maybe hydroponics, and start a garden in my greenhouse or basement.  No middleman = all the profits go to me = I could make a living off of this.

Then there’s plan pot-tastic, which takes me strait to the top.  Representatives from major cigarette companies like Phillip Morris and R. J. Reynolds have confirmed that they will not be venturing into the pot market and I think it's a huge mistake.  I will buy land in Northern California, procure commercial cigarette rolling equipment, lawyers, and vending machines, and institute Roundtree brand  marijuana cigarettes.  

It will be the Marlboro of marijuana, the Parliament of pot, the Camel of kush.  I’ll have reefer up for sale any place cigarettes are found, and more. the movies, Starbucks, college campuses.  I will set up my farming franchises along the California coast and build a rolling and packaging factory in Redding, or maybe Chico.  I’ll have distribution trucks shipping tons of marijuana to every major city in California and I’ll make millions in the process.

Mexico's Consul General droned on predictably for an hour... But his English was superb.

Monday morning, in the Sac State University Ballroom, Mexican Consul General Carlos Gonzalez-Gutierrez spoke to a crowd of around 500 people.  Along with university students and faculty, several junior high classes were in attendance.

Now, I can't decide what's worse:  Making 12 year olds listen to an hour long monologue on international relations that even I almost slept through, or writing a speech simple enough for a 12-year-old and delivering it to a university audience. 

Unfortunately, I think we got both.

You might think that these two are contradictory, that a speech intended for 12-year-olds would probably be a bit more engaging, or that the kind of speeches I typically nod off during are of the important or too-complicated variety.  I simply contend that a speech can be boring and empty at the same time, especially if they are made by government officials.

I was hoping for some helpful insight from the Consul General, real ideas of what could, should or shouldn't be done about things like immigration reform and drug trafficking.  What I got was a three bullet point lecture on what a consulate does, acknowledgement of the fact that narco-violence is "a real problem," and an optimistic peek into the future of California/Mexico relations.

Considering his young audience, I thought Gonzalez-Gutierrez would have more to say on how our country’s rampant drug use continues to fund an army of murdering drug dealers and corrupt law enforcement figures.  The closest he got to an anti drug plea was vaguely asking for “participation.”

"It is necessary to have participation of all those involved in the chain of drug trade, so that there is hope of significantly reducing the levels of violence,” said Gonzalez-Gutierrez.

I thought he would talk about what is being done to curb the increasing rates of murder and kidnap.  He referred to the drug trafficking and violence problem as something that, “can only be addressed with determination and prompt action."

Exactly what prompt action he was referring to has yet to be seen.

Everyone likes to buy local; we could legalize and manufacture the drugs here in the United States.  As long as the price is comparable, another source for drugs takes the monopoly away from the cartels.  Why risk life and limb dealing with illegal drugs when you could legally purchase your fix from one of 20 potential crack or heroin dispensaries in Sacramento alone.  The problem with this solution is lack of support for the legalization of cocaine, methamphetamine, MDMA, and the 2 above mentioned schedule-1 substances which make up a far larger portion of the drug trade than marijuana. 

Another approach: if we boycott illegal Mexican drugs in the United States it would starve the cartels into unemployment.  Although, convincing millions of people to quit their favorite drug is going to be a tough sell.

Or, we could continue president Calderon’s approach:  directly oppose the violent gangs by fortifying police and military forces in the trouble areas.  This has had a significant effect on drug cartels, but reciprocal violence has escalated at the same time.  Naturally, a cornered animal will retaliate.

In 2005, the recorded death toll reached 1000 bodies by mid September.  Murder rates have regularly and steadily increased each year.  In 2010, the 1000^th death was on February third.  What used to take them nine months to accomplish now happens in one month and three days. 

Maybe it’s darkest before the dawn, or maybe the pressure from Calderon’s war on drugs is angering cartel bosses into retaliation.  Either way, this is a multifaceted issue which probably needs to be solved by a mixture of policy and changing attitudes.  If we want to bring the drug traffickers under control we need our public figures (especially those who work in relevant fields) to engage themselves and us in the issue and take steps toward a real solution together.

Phlagle-blah... But thanks for all the free stuff.

Sacramento State’s Student Union building held its 11th annual “Phlagleblast” open house to welcome and orientate students (mainly freshmen) into what will become, for many of them, a favorite hangout. 

“The Union,” as it is affectionately called among students, is something like an office building with a food court, even a bit like a mini mall, but really nothing like a jungle.  Unfortunately, nobody informed the event’s coordinators of this fact, so large areas of the lobby were naively plastered with paper vines and foliage.  Nobody was fooled.

On top of the childish decorating scheme, Phlagleblast also boasted a roaming magician, and a balloon artist.  A trained magician I can understand, but how a simple balloon artist would manage to survive in the jungle is beyond me. 

Where are we, a six-year-old’s birthday party?  Where’s the clown and slip’n’slide?  This is open house at a university multipurpose complex not a grade school dance.  We only do this once a year for crying out loud; let’s hire a good dj, get a keg, and barbeque some ribs.

To get people walking around the building, everyone entering the jungle was given a large card with a checklist and instructions for the scavenger hunt.  Essentially, every business and office in the building had a different stamp for you to collect, they also all gave out free crap to help you justify all that exercise.  If you got a stamp from every booth on all three floors you could enter your card in a drawing to win one of several covetable prizes like an Ipad, a new mountain bike, or a two-person Dr. Pepper tent. 

Apart from the tent, I was disappointed.  This stamp gathering business was supposed to acquaint students with all the nooks and crannies of the union which they would otherwise never see, and in my opinion it was a joke.  Sure in theory it got the students to physically walk through an area of the building, but it required nothing more than wordlessly waving your checklist under the noses of anyone with a stamp in their hand.   My card was completed in less than 20 minutes and I hadn’t learned a single thing.

I think that whoever organizes this thing needs to adopt a new approach if they want people to really understand the Union.  The scavenger hunt was a good start, but prizes that expensive could have commanded a lot more effort from students than just skipping through an all you can eat stamp buffet.  Students could learn and remember more if we came up with a mechanism to keep them engaged for longer than a few seconds. 

What if the stamps were more like jeopardy questions?  The card could have brief descriptions of all the different offices and businesses –their role, functions and services- but blank titles. 

An example:  “Get coffee & espresso, panini, soups and salads here. We also have daily specials at our grill.  You can eat here in our dining area or take your food to-go.” 

To get this stamp, the student has to match this description to the proper shop (obviously the Java City Buzz), but by reading the description he or she has actually learned a little something about this shop and what it offers.  There would of course be hints like this applying to all restaurants, student services offices, the game room, and everyone else in the building.

They advertise a big party; lure students into the Union with free crap; use the real expensive stuff to get us scavenging every corner of the building and in the process most of us should absorb at least a rudimentary idea of how the union operates.  I see what the coordinators were trying to do, but while having everyone give away free stuff is a great way to get students off the beaten path, far too much emphasis fell on collecting booty while the getting was good, and maybe not enough fell on the Union.

Even the event’s name, “Phlagleblast,” is of dubious origin.  One possible root comes from the Dutch “phlagele” for a romantic surprise, and “blats” meaning to beat without mercy.  Another translation comes from “flaangeblwts,” a Gaelic word for the old bait-and-switch. 

In truth, the name “Phlagleblast” is completely meaningless and only serves as a colorful misnomer to make an open house sound like a lot more fun than it really is. 

Second saturday goes sour. Crowds, catcalls and killings. Who saw that coming?

Sacramento, CA. -  Second Saturday's once pleasant and refreshing art walk has clearly deteriorated into something less than savory.  This past weekend, Victor Hugo Perez Zavala was shot dead and three others were injured when an unidentified gunperson opened fire in a crowd outside the Streets of London pub in midtown.

As I recall, Second Saturday used to be a mellow, even somewhat classy affair where local artists showcased their works, people tasted wine, live local bands played rock and blues and midtown businesses opened their doors to the roaming pedestrian.  It typically appealed to families, the middle-aged and the artsy crowd, surely drawing it's fair share of underage hooligans and riff raff, but on the whole not serving up anything worse than noise complaints, a whole lot of foot traffic, and something to clean up in the morning.

Now (grinding teeth), riding a bike down J street means taking your life in your hands.  Trying to enter a bar means getting stared down by thick, aggressive men.   The crowd has tripled and the cheerful Birkenstock wearing art and wine snobs (the best kind of snob) seem to be outnumbered ten-to-one by the surly gang affiliate, the high-school dropout/alcoholic, or the chain smoking punk.

Not that I've got anything against drinking, smoking or being surly (there's a time and a place for everything), but I do feel like something once fresh has turned terribly sour.  No longer is Second Saturday about neighbors joining neighbors for a respectable, light hearted stroll through one of the best parts of the city.  Now it’s like a county fair without the rides or animals, or an all ages night club with traffic for 30 square blocks.

What a nightmare; even in theory this scenario terrifies me.  No wonder someone got shot, I'm just surprised it took this long.

If you’ve held a few house parties, you know that there are certain laws of nature governing attendance and how the night unfolds.  It starts at a medium pace with close friends who clearly belong there and who you probably invited personally. You eventually admit there’s plenty of room for everyone, and besides, how often does an opportunity come up to really truly party, right?  So you send out the mass text.  Friends tag along with friends and things proceed to rage.  If conditions are perfect the party goes over swimmingly, everyone has a great time, crashes at 6 am, and we all go to breakfast together one big hung over family.  Happy ending.

On the other hand, the more likely scenario is that once the crowds arrive you realize that you don’t know half the people in your house.  Purses and cell phones go missing, fights break out, a few windows break, and you ultimately pull the cord on it.  It just happens.

Like a party, if Second Saturday’s attendance spikes, if the facilitators loose control, if guests lose respect for each other or have a chip on their shoulder, this is when the fights break out and things get stolen or vandalized.

This shooting has only accelerated the curdling of what was once a nice community event, if not been the catalyst to its downfall. Next month, all the respectable law abiding citizens are going to stay home in fear of their lives while every roughneck from miles arround turns our neighborhood into the Wild West.  Second Saturday may never recover to its former glory even if we take drastic action to clean it up.  It's all downhill from here.

I say burn it down and start over.

Dear bikers: STFU! Love Paul.

We've all heard them: Anywhere from one to one hundred motorcyclists roaring through our neighborhood, past our church, or by the cafe where we are enjoying a peaceful cup of coffee and a newspaper. For me, this experience lands somewhere between a train going through my bedroom, and holding jackhammer practice in the library annex. In short, teeth grindingly irritating.
The loud motorcycle is not only irritating, it monopolizes the attention of everyone within a city block. Once those bastards roar into earshot you can't even hear yourself think, much less sustain a civilized conversation (or really communicate anything below a red faced, throat splitting scream).

Lucky for people like me, the California state Senate passed a bill this month that would prohibit motorcycles from customizing their exhaust systems to spout anything more than 80 decibels. For those of us (like me) who have no idea how loud 80 decibels are, you can imagine a heated argument between your roommates over who has had the most to drink that night. If you don't have roommates, or spend more time cleaning than socializing, just think of a vacuum cleaner.

The bill (god bless it) still has to cross the governor's desk to be put into action, but the potential wrench in the proverbial gears is that Schwarzenegger himself is something of a motorcycle enthusiast, and could veto it for the sake of good old American liberty.

The Governor has already vetoed a bill this year that would have prevented smoking on all state parks and beaches. Some suspect this was a personal choice since Schwarzenegger himself is fond of cigars.

As quoted in the Sacramento Bee, President Mike Levison of the Southern California Harley Riders Association called the bill, "another example of government intrusion into our lifestyle."

Oh really?

Let me postulate, Mr. Levison, that if I and 50 of my friends trotted through your neighborhood blowing air horns at 1 a.m. you would damn sure enlist the government to intrude on my lifestyle. Grow up.

You can't rob entire neighborhoods of their peaceful quiet, generally antagonize the aural senses of anyone within earshot, and then simply chalk it up to "our lifestyle." It's simply not cricket. You wouldn't drive around in a truck full of rancid tuna salad, or run around waving LED flashlights or magnesium flares in people's faces, no, that's crazy talk. Noise at this level is beyond ridiculous, it borders on assault.

On the other hand, one legitimate argument has been raised for those opposed to this bill: Certain custom motorcycle outfitters make their business from selling aftermarket exhaust pipes, jet turbines and other noise amplifying apparatus, but would obviously stand to lose a lot if this bill passed. The question is what will happen to them if their wares are outlawed.

Here's my question: What percentage of their business is made up from the sales of noise-pipes? If it's enough to put them out of business then I say good riddance, and enough harm done. Open a barbeque dealership for all I care, only so long as you don’t equip them with trumpets and dinner bells. If, on the other hand, their catalogues are full of useful things like glowing blue undercarriages, tiny helmets, and shirts that say “if you can read this, the bitch fell off” then they don’t have anything to worry about.

Once more into the breach...

After a long summer of adventure, leisure, and recovery, I once again rationalize committing 16 weeks of my youth to academic chores. What am I thinking?

I could be backpacking through the Alps or reading by the fire, learning to sail or painting a sunset. There are literally hundreds of things I would rather do with my autumn than hole up in Sacramento to study, and just thinking about the opportunity cost almost leaves me in tears.

However, I have done this before.  With enough discipline, concentration, and self pacifying mantras like “People with college degrees earn an average of 40% more than their peers with only a high school diploma,” I will temporarily forget the fun I'm missing out on and power through another spirit crushing semester.

The first week is always the weirdest. The campus is mobbed with overdressed strangers. Inevitably, my classes will be so full that the last three or four people to arrive will be left leaning awkwardly against the radiator until the instructor weeds out the wait list hopefuls and crushes their freshman optimism.

Some professors I've had before, some I've never heard of, some are so bizarre that I suspect they came up with a stage crazy personality just to keep the attention of their students.

I join every uncomfortably silent class of avoiding eyes for the same first-day lecture about the food and drink policy, plagiarism, and office hours, and to have the syllabus spoon-fed to me for over an hour.  I can't help thinking that if the syllabus had been emailed out the previous weekend we could have gone over it ourselves, then after some basic questions and clarifications on Monday we could have gotten directly down to business.

The first few readings and assignments are never very difficult, but switching mental gears from summer slouch to academic powerhouse always is. Trying to get through one chapter of Economics reading feels like I’m trying to gnaw my own arm off. All I can think about is the river and the sun, all the decent weather I’m wasting and how soon I can go for a bike ride. Furthermore, I didn’t even finish my summer reading. Now I have to put it away in favor of supply/demand graphs and negative externalities until Christmas? I’m going to forget the entire plot and all the character development and have to start the book all over again. I think I’ve read the first ten chapters of Savage Detectives three times.

On the bright side, and speaking of books, class texts weren’t too pricey this year. I think it was under $100 out the door for all but one of my textbooks, and many professors are putting their readings online. About damn time.  It’s always encouraging to see the faculty making our lives as students easier. It makes me think that through the fog of old age they might retain a hazy image of what it was like.

More good news, the new gym/wellness center is open for business and looks like somewhere I could waste a lot of valuable studying time.

“People with college degrees earn on average 40% more… People with college degrees earn on average 40% more...”