Why Can’t You Get Any Good Weed On This Campus? By Bill Burleson 2001
Here’s my story. The names were changed to protect the guilty. Several of my classmates and I were working on a group project to present to our class. We decided that Power Point was the way to go. One guy, “Bob,” knew his way around the program pretty well so the plan was to send him all the content and he’d put the presentation slides together. Besides, “Bob” was the only one in the group who owned the program. I said, “Boy, I wish I had Power Point.” And “Bob” said, “Do you want Power Point?” And I said, “Well, yeah, but it’s really expensive to buy it on its own.” And he said, “I’ll give you Power Point.” Where upon he reaches into his bag, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and palmed me a CD under the table*. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this story. It’s because I’m 42 years old, and when I was in college the first time in the late seventies and early eighties, this exactly how we would buy drugs. “You want some weed? I’ve got some.” And then the guy passes it to you under the table. What does this all mean? I have no clue. It’s just the kind of stupid anecdote that old fuckers like me tell people who are young so that they know how cool we were in the old days. And it‘s the kind of story we tell to people my age so we can share smirks of recognition and remembrance. I may not know what this all means, but I do know the world has changed. Did you know that there was a time that when you went out and bought Columbian, or Nepalese, or Panamanian, you weren’t buying coffee?
*
After which I threw the CD on the floor and ground it into the carpet with my boot while screaming, “How dare you! I would never use unlicensed software! Especially Microsoft! Bill Gates is our friend!” So don’t come-a-knocking, Mr. Gates.
It’s interesting that something that was once so ordinary is now so taboo. When I tell people the title of this column, I get the best looks of absolute shock, as if to say, “you can’t say ‘weed’! Reagan made it against the law to say ‘weed’!” There was a time when everyone I knew smoked pot. Everyone. High Times Magazine sat next to the bong on my and my friend’s coffee table. The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers were cool. People thought Pink Floyd was somehow important. You could stand on the dance floor of Uncle Sam’s or the Longhorn (if you don’t know these places you are either from out-of-town or under 30) and pass joints with friends and strangers. We were sure that legalization was right around the corner. Bummer. I guess I’m just in culture shock. I’ve just been living my happy little “Heart Of The Beast” south-side queer life and didn’t realize how much the world has changed. Here’s something for you folks under 30, did you know there was a time that the instructors were button down, suit wearing conservatives, and that the students were liberals? Not quite like that now, is it? Of course what happened is that the liberal students I went to college with twenty years ago are now your instructors, and most of the present student body grew up under Ronald Reagan. Makes one pause. Know what else makes me pause? I haven’t smoked weed in at least ten years. Who’s got time anymore? I can’t take four or five hours off; I’ve got things to do. Besides, where would I get it? You know you can’t trust anyone over thirty. Bill Burleson is a Metropolitan State Student and not as old as he seems to think he is.