Makes you think of South Park

Took care of many useful and important things, yesterday. Fortunately, not among them were dealing with Obama's visit; his motorcade drove by the street that runs straight up to the Eagle Rock, not something I can see from my house but I could have seen the motorcade with about 30 seconds of pushing me along in a wheelchair, and with about 5 minutes work (thank you, wheelchair pusher) I could have been on the sidewalk along the route. I'm not hung up about seeing Obama, even just sitting in a car, but it would have been cool. Even more cool is that I did not go to my doctor's place yesterday, because the few truly nasty traffic snarl-ups were directly in the places that I have to go through to get to my doctor's office. "Of all the words of song or pen, the saddest are: It might have been" was not for my own set of yesterday's "it might have beens."

Spent some time chatting with a friend who's at a particularly challenging workplace, the classic "manager who mis-manages horribly" tragedy. People apparently leave her office with their head in their hands, all but in tears.

I found myself quoting Steven Universe to him: Sometimes, you gotta know when to bail.

I asked him, "What does she need?" Not "a two by four in the face," although as Marcus Cole said on Babylon 5, "You get more with a kind word and a two-by-four than just a kind word," but this poor person's problem may drill down to fear... and if so, perhaps all you can offer is compassion, the charm of the two-by-four notwithstanding.

But more importantly, to use the words of the Science of Mind church: I bless you and release you to your good. And more immediately, to work without ceasing to get a different job, which will put said poor person once and forever into the soft and fuzzy box labeled "Someone Else's Problem."

Other experiments: My buddy drove me around to some place where I could get my medical marijuana OK signed and sealed, and we took some time to sneak off to the local burger place. We would have gone to the local hot dog place, which does amazing work, but may not have much "inside" room for people like me in a wheelchair, and although it does have quite a beautiful little patio with tables and umbrellas and everything, and I've enjoyed lunch there before, but "charming outdoor seating" doesn't go far with heat-sensitive MSers and temps that on the day and time in question were in the high 90s, thank you Southern California.

But I was pulling at my "vape" device, charged with quality indica. It made the "being driven" around significantly easier to deal with, and when we pulled into the hamburger place itself, I was knocking on the door of "hungry," aided by a few extra puffs. Which never happens, especially after having been driven around all over the place, with a lot of time spent on rough and bumpy roads.

It really is quite amazing stuff. Pretty cool for something that just grows in the ground. There's a reason they call it "weed," because it is a ... weed, after all.

How long has humanity been treating itself with plants it just finds, growing happily and quietly?

And where are the piles of bodies found on every highway in the states that have decriminalized, even legalized it?

Perhaps we haven't found them because they are hidden by the piles of bodies created by gay marriage. Under the piles of hetero couples who have plunged to their deaths from high buildings, driven to take their own lives because their marriages were ruined, ruined, by all those gay people.

Makes you think of South Park.