Garden of Eve

We met at the Baltic Room in 2009. Jack is an average-looking white dude, bald and shorter than me, but there was instant and overpowering chemistry. I would never have guessed that he had a basement full of weed. I rented out my house and moved in with him three months later. It was love at first site – for both him and the grow room. When I lost my job, I figured I could be a stay-at-home girlfriend, collect rent money, and take care of the ladies in his basement. He asked me to call dispensaries and make ‘donations’ which soon became my part-time job – working Rainier Ave and frequenting West Seattle, making connections with several dispensaries.  In 2010, the going rate was $2,800 per pound, on consignment, and usually paid in full within three weeks. I started getting the brush off from one dispensary, with a balance owing of $1,400 after 30 days. Jack doesn’t like people messing with his money, and decided to take matter into his own hands. We showed up and waited in t

There is an ugly side to the Seattle cannabis movement. There are lawsuits and name calling, and narking and threats. People from other states probably think we lavish each other congratulatory back slaps with the passage of I-502. (That, in addition to smoking the very best weed in the entire universe, of course.) But no. There are egos, agendas, paranoia and bottom lines. A few individuals are hacking their way through the movement, creating discourse and distraction. It’s shocking how ugly this side of a revolution can be. To affect change, you gotta bang on some cages and throw poop at people, I suppose. But is it really necessary? I don’t know – not my monkeys, not my circus. Maybe it’s because they’re all men! Oops, that’s supposed to be a question mark. Sorry. Well, at least I don’t  know  of any  women in the movement  calling each other dirty, pilfering cunts. I could challenge Cat Jeter to a hair pulling contest. Would that help the movement? I don’t see 

My friend of ten years died today. He had liver cancer, was 52 years old, and survived by a confused wife, five kids, and one grandchild. Cannabis did not save his life, because he wouldn’t try it. When he told me last year that he had liver cancer, I immediately told him about Rick Simpson Oil. I begged him … please … I don’t want to lose you.  I have access to highly-potent, tumor-killing medicine from the best medicine growers in Washington. Look at the studies! Let me show you the research! It’s here, it’s affordable, and it’s available right NOW! What have we got to lose?!? “Well, my doctors want me to follow their strict dietary guidelines, and of course chemo and radiation. Just bring me some medicated cookies and we won’t tell anyone.” So that’s what I did for nine months… I watched my dear friend wither away while sneaking him brownies and baked goods, which didn’t seem to be working. Ugh… the frustration and heartache is unbearable. Three weeks ago he asked me