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I was just like all of you. Working and happy. Then, there came a certain point in my life, where I had to admit that I needed to do an act that most feel repugnant. The act itself is FUN! However many times I do it, I get the same kick from it. In fact, I really feel that I could not live without the act. But it's not ALL about the act. It makes my whole life blossom.. Most in our society wont even allow this act, no matter how much you declare you MUST do the act. But I digress.
Three nights ago, at midnight, I had four cops banging and ringing on my door. I was asleep. Because I commit the act, I lead a real simple, quiet life. They said that a neighbor called and said that I was having a huge fight with a girl, and throwing her and things around. Now, up till now, I had been scared to death, that someone very prejudiced against my kind would learn of my doing the act. You see, we dont have any cool people. No entertainers, no pundits. While, TECHNICALLY, the constitution seems to protect me, It's a crap{cop} shoot, literally. So, back to the four cops at my door. One says that he sat there and heard a woman crying. He says that he can come in, whether I like it or not, no warrant needed. I, just asleep thirty seconds ago, says I protest. I finally say, that I protest, but I certainly cannot physically do anything to stop them, so do what they are going to do.
Now, in my mind, I know that there are signs of me doing the act, ALL OVER THE PLACE. I couldn't even process that I had no constitution. No fourth amendment. They were going to learn all about me, and the act. And it wasn't pretty. They cuffed me, and placed me on the couch. They said something about a 10-19. At first I was quiet. I said I had a liscense even to say that I was allowed. They said they had NEVER heard of that. One cop made a discouraging remark about the act, and about those that perfomed the act. The head cop had aririved, and he said it wasn't looking good. I was already outted, so I began to preach my constitutional right to perform my act. I had three cops with me, in a semicircle. Teaching them about me, and my kind. And how much we need to do the act. We feel our very lives depend on it. And how in my instance, it was proven. This was at least a half hour sermon. Then, a cop finishes searching my upstairs, and says, who do I have in my crawlspace. You see, some think that those like me are depraved. They villify us. And now they all will know about me. Likely talk to all their buddies when they get back to the station. I answer noone. He asks me again, I am PIQUED. I answer Jimmy Hoffa. he says that an answer of any kind entitled him to check my attic for further evidence of me doing the act. But they said it was to check if I had a Rick James thingie going on. At the same time, they looked all over my house, making disparaging remarks about me, and saying that I didn't deserve to live this well, as I was a parriah. they were getting ready to feel OK about ruining my life. I stood my ground, and proceeded as Jesus did against Pilot. I claimed my life. And defended it, as if my life depended on it. It did. I told them how I am barred from employment. I told them how I can never get health insurance, as long as I commit the act. I live in fear of any kind of trouble. That it would end up just like it did. With my home crawling with cops. Appearing to follow no known constitution. That they only let you commit the act when you are doomed. And even then, they look for reasons why your character, or other irrelevancy entitles you to harrassment, if not life in prison. I talked for two hours straight. I told my life story in bold, brash strokes. I defended my life. There was something even cathartic about it. It couldnt get any worse than this, in this world. I had faced jackbooted thugs, crashing my door, and imprisoning me, and interrogating, looking for the slightest misword, entitling them to further raping my constitution. They took pictures, and said they needed a picture of me, as well. I smiled broadly into the camera. As one cop left, he gave me some advice. He said that next time, let the cops right in, as my protesting having my home crawling with cops, was the very thing, that made me look suspicious. I remarked that if I had known that they were pals, I would have. Now that I know, I certainly will. Did I mention as an aside, that the constitution is null and void?
I am a medical marijuana patient. We hide. Don't make waves. We survive the best we can. Marinol in pill form, makes you paranoid. It makes you also completely useless. I grow my own, as I certainly cannot afford it otherwise. If I dont have it, my lungs fill up with fluid, like being waterboarded, every night, till you die. I have heart failure. Enlarged heart. Bad Mitral and Aortal vlaves. Medical Marijuana allows me to eat without throwing up, or not feeling like eating at all. It controls my blood pressure, and heartrate. I lived that waterboarding, without sleep, every night for three months. I was almost dead. I was on proper medication. I had no voice. Dying of not getting a breath, is a bad way to go. You cannot have opiates. They suppress your breathing. So, I tried Medical Marijuana. My voice came back, my lungs cleared. I used a high protein diet, in conjunction with an oxygen concentrator, and just gardening, as exercise. I now look like Brad Pit. Not a joke. I lost 60 pounds from my high. Kept it off, and am ripped, with the beginnings of a six pack. I am however incapable of employment. Noone will allow me to work. I am an engineer. SS dis said no thank you. Doc says shouldnt work. Now, they want ME, to bail out my state. Taxing the crap outta the sick. Many deathbed.
Why do I blab my fool head off as if I was an activist? Dear friends and fellow founding fathers of the new era, I am frightened. How often can I get raided. Yearly, monthly, weekly, every time they need a kick? Who do they share that info with? Am I safe from further intrusion? Are they building a case? Am I paranoid? Does the term even mean anything any longer? The only safety I have is in notoriety. In transparency. And even yet, I cannot reveal to my neighbors, as they might revolt. I told my Mom. she hardly could listen, and told me to NOT tell my Dad. My growing is a family secret. My conservative parents, told me not to tell my sisters, as they are religious conservatives, and would likely shun me. When I get too sick to care for myself, I will die. As noone will find a sick guy dope. Until then, I am a posterboy for Medical Marijuana, outted by jackbooted thugs. On the forefront of discriminated groups. Without any claim to congenital cause. And no official protection. With a Don't ask, Don't tell stigma on the lot of us. So, I'm here and I'm in fear. Where's my pride parade?
I've never wrote anything that I think should be read by many, this might be it.
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