To the barracades!

Whoever came up with the “pussy hats” was brilliant. Looking at that sea of pink displayed on Saturday was heartening and powerful. All I know is that I want one. I wear hats all the time and really think it would be a dynamite addition to my collection.

But wearing the hat, a symbol of the Women’s March on Saturday, carries far more weight than just a fashion statement. It is a symbol of the uprising that covers more than just women’s rights and issues. It is about being pissed off about the new master in the White House. It is outrage against everything that he has said and represents. It is a call to arms, a wake-up call, Paul Revere ride through the night about the threats to our civil liberties, to our democracy, to our Republic, to the state’s rights we cherish that just might disappear under the new administration.

The cat-earred chapeau is more than a head warmer, it is a sign that we are not going to go quietly into that good night. We have struggled mightily for decades and will go to great lengths to preserve our freedoms.

On Saturday we rolled into town just as the parade was ending. Somehow I was living in a cave all week and missed out on attending one of the biggest events since the anti-war marches of the 60’s. Maybe it was just as well. If we had gotten there on time we would have been part of a historic day, we would have added to the numbers, not just in Denver but to the international scene. Instead we drove through the crowds still spilling off the parade route and made our way across town to Sushi Rama for lunch.

As I sat there with my family, picking off plate after plate of carousel sushi, baked to a nice finish thanks to a wee bit of homemade cannabis baklava, I thought of how lucky I was to be living in a state that allowed for such a thing to happen. That I could be out in public and not have to worry about the man coming down on our family outing. There was an overall sense of happiness that went along with the lack of paranoia that I totally loved that day. I didn’t have to fear cannabis any more than I had to fear arrest or being hassled for being high. I could get fueled up, lightly, as is my preference, and be able to go out to eat, navigate around town, go to a very busy museum, groove, and not be bothered by anybody.  As the song goes, ain’t nobodies business but my own if I wanted to be buffeted about by the wee winds of a cannabis high. But like the libertarian ethos that goes along with that, you get to have those freedoms by maintaining and respecting the lives of others as well.

In other words, be cool.

That’s what those million plus folks did on Saturday. There were out there, walking for our freedoms and being cool. Quiet, peaceful protest. But with a kicker: it is out there now that we are not going to take any outrage or bullshit against us lightly. Our new president woke up on Saturday with a parade right down the block that let him know that we had our eyes on him and we are going to watch his every step, from inauguration day on.

I love my cannabis freedoms. I wasn’t wearing a pussy hat on Saturday. Nor did I march in a parade. No, had my own little bit of civil disobedience that day. Instead of going along quietly with Federal law I immersed myself in a peaceful groovy kind of day. I stuck my finger in the eye of those folks out there who say that I am menace to society if I indulge in cannabis. On Saturday I showed the world that I was a peaceful citizen, a well composed and controlled cannabis aficionado and loving family man.  I ate a teaspoon of marijuana edibles and peacefully and respectfully comported myself around town and the region. The biggest threat I posed that day was to a chili cheeseburger at Der Wienerschnitzel. I savaged that thing.

Yes, I partake in cannabis. Yes, I am a voting man. Yes, I believe in personal liberties. And yes, we will vote the fuckers out if they don’t behave. If that doesn’t work, well, impeachment just might do the trick.

Salud!

Signs of the times!
http://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/The-most-clever-signs-from-the-San-Francisco-Women-10874428.php