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Yesterday did not bud well for marijuana enthusiasts--voters in Nevada, Colorado, and South Dakota were not kind to Mary Jane as she ran for legalization on a green party ticket but failed to spark the bowl-game win she needed on election day.
America's favorite herb has made some good showings in the news recently, as in this Associated Press feature on the booming success of home and office pot delivery services, complete with corporate-style logos, call centers, and management structures. The granddaddy of them all was sadly busted last year when DEA agents brought down New York-based Cartoon Network, whose roving call center processed upwards of 600 orders per day for its hydroponic output. During one raid, agents found more than 30 pounds of cannabis, individually wrapped in dime bags labeled "Happy Holidays From Your Friends at Cartoon!"
But really, who didn't know that you could dial up weed in New York about as easily as egg foo young? What interests me more is this story out of the Isleta Pueblo reservation in New Mexico.
It seems that one evening last month, two tribal police officers stopped by the Los Lunas Burger King for some sustenance. After proceeding through the drive-through in a marked squad car and full uniform, they parked out on Tribal Road 69 to eat. About halfway through the meal, Officer Henry Gabaldon "noticed a taste in his mouth that he recognized as marijuana," and opened his burger to discover "several small pieces of a green leafy substance." As luck would have it, the officers had brought their field testing kit along on patrol, and the unusual condiment was quickly identified as the herb.
On the officers' return, the drive-through employee initially denied any knowledge of the burgers' contents, pointing out that he merely dispenses what the cook assembles. His story was diminished somewhat in its credibility, however, by the glass pipe protruding from his jeans pocket. When it was all over, the drive-through employee, the cook, and the manager were hauled off to the pokey, after the latter figure was discovered to be possessed of his own managerial pipe and stash.
But drive-through drugs are not exactly a novelty; the New York Avenue "McPharmacy" is a one-stop-shop for all your black market painkiller needs here in the nation's capital. What I like even better is this item from McKeesport, Pennsylvania.
When Leslye Creighton, 41, needed to pass an employment drug screen, she knew that her own urine would not make the grade. She therefore arranged to borrow some from her boyfriend Vincent Bostic, 31. Bostic deposited his urine in a fake penis, the source of which was not specified. Knowing that the old somebody-else's-urine-in-a-fake-penis trick won't fool anyone if the urine is not delivered at a believable temperature, Creighton and Bostic stopped at a GetGo! convenience store on the way to the test site. Creighton wrapped the artificial organ in a paper towel, and asked a store clerk if he would microwave it for her.
The exact sequence of events that followed is not clear. The clerk became sufficiently concerned that the item was an actual, severed human penis as to summon police, but not before doing something involving the microwave that would lead to the couple's plea agreement incorporating restitution for the cost of a new one.
The thing I find most intriguing about this incident is that Creighton had sufficient foresight to recognize that she needed someone else's urine, that it needed to be produced at approximately body temperature, and that she required a means of concealment and delivery sufficient to defeat an "observed urine test." Yet she seems not to have considered that the fake penis gambit tends to presuppose that the test subject is male.
Perhaps by the time Ms. Creighton next applies for a job, the legalization lobby will have been able to hash out a new strategy to reverse its chronic losses and smoke out its enemies. Delivery customers, drive-through chefs, and synthetic phallus microwavers across the land will then raise a collective cheer of victory as the election-day clock sounds its final bong.
America's favorite herb has made some good showings in the news recently, as in this Associated Press feature on the booming success of home and office pot delivery services, complete with corporate-style logos, call centers, and management structures. The granddaddy of them all was sadly busted last year when DEA agents brought down New York-based Cartoon Network, whose roving call center processed upwards of 600 orders per day for its hydroponic output. During one raid, agents found more than 30 pounds of cannabis, individually wrapped in dime bags labeled "Happy Holidays From Your Friends at Cartoon!"
But really, who didn't know that you could dial up weed in New York about as easily as egg foo young? What interests me more is this story out of the Isleta Pueblo reservation in New Mexico.
It seems that one evening last month, two tribal police officers stopped by the Los Lunas Burger King for some sustenance. After proceeding through the drive-through in a marked squad car and full uniform, they parked out on Tribal Road 69 to eat. About halfway through the meal, Officer Henry Gabaldon "noticed a taste in his mouth that he recognized as marijuana," and opened his burger to discover "several small pieces of a green leafy substance." As luck would have it, the officers had brought their field testing kit along on patrol, and the unusual condiment was quickly identified as the herb.
On the officers' return, the drive-through employee initially denied any knowledge of the burgers' contents, pointing out that he merely dispenses what the cook assembles. His story was diminished somewhat in its credibility, however, by the glass pipe protruding from his jeans pocket. When it was all over, the drive-through employee, the cook, and the manager were hauled off to the pokey, after the latter figure was discovered to be possessed of his own managerial pipe and stash.
But drive-through drugs are not exactly a novelty; the New York Avenue "McPharmacy" is a one-stop-shop for all your black market painkiller needs here in the nation's capital. What I like even better is this item from McKeesport, Pennsylvania.
When Leslye Creighton, 41, needed to pass an employment drug screen, she knew that her own urine would not make the grade. She therefore arranged to borrow some from her boyfriend Vincent Bostic, 31. Bostic deposited his urine in a fake penis, the source of which was not specified. Knowing that the old somebody-else's-urine-in-a-fake-penis trick won't fool anyone if the urine is not delivered at a believable temperature, Creighton and Bostic stopped at a GetGo! convenience store on the way to the test site. Creighton wrapped the artificial organ in a paper towel, and asked a store clerk if he would microwave it for her.
The exact sequence of events that followed is not clear. The clerk became sufficiently concerned that the item was an actual, severed human penis as to summon police, but not before doing something involving the microwave that would lead to the couple's plea agreement incorporating restitution for the cost of a new one.
The thing I find most intriguing about this incident is that Creighton had sufficient foresight to recognize that she needed someone else's urine, that it needed to be produced at approximately body temperature, and that she required a means of concealment and delivery sufficient to defeat an "observed urine test." Yet she seems not to have considered that the fake penis gambit tends to presuppose that the test subject is male.
Perhaps by the time Ms. Creighton next applies for a job, the legalization lobby will have been able to hash out a new strategy to reverse its chronic losses and smoke out its enemies. Delivery customers, drive-through chefs, and synthetic phallus microwavers across the land will then raise a collective cheer of victory as the election-day clock sounds its final bong.
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