“Yo Jordan, you wanna smoke this bowl with us?” JaVale said, waving him over to where a group of Nuggets teammates was sitting in a circle on the floor. “Timofey just got some of the dankest kush ever from his dealer back in Russia.”
Timofey smiled widely. “I assure you friend that this kush is best kush you ever smoke. Guarantee, man. High as kite in a minute or money back.”
Jordan shook his head. “You know I’d be down for that, but you guys are forgetting that we’re still in Phoenix. Their local politicians are not as enlightened as our representatives in Colorado, thus, possession of marijuana is not allowed in their jurisdiction.”
JaVale’s face fell. “Damn, you’re right. We gotta put this stuff away before the pigs find out.” He sighed loudly. “What a bum-out. Back in Denver, the pigs would join in partaking of the green, not arrest you for it.”
Darrell Arthur interjected, “It is quite ridiculous that a relatively harmless drug such as marijuana is heavily criminalized, while substances that are well-known to be harmful even in low doses, such as alcohol and tobacco, are perfectly legal.” There was a chorus of “yeah’s” and “mm-hmm’s” in response to Darrell’s words.
“Lobbyists, man,” Jordan said. “They got the politicians in their pockets. If weed had any lobbyists, man, we could smoke that sticky ish with no fear of fines or jail time.”
Timofey stood up. “Weed make me feel good. Alcohol not. One is legal, one not. There no logic here.” He grabbed the bowl and stuffed it back in his duffel bag. “America. Land of the free, home of the persecuted,” he said, punctuating his remarks with by spitting on the ground. “420 blaze it everyday.”