My mom's Hannukah weed

I used to smoke weed with my mom. Just to be clear, I was a grown adult at the time. It's not like I was a toddler and she went, "He’s not eating his peas. You know what he needs? The munchies. Pass him the bong!" Though that probably would've been a pretty fun childhood.

She got it legally too: Medical marijuana because she lived in California and had MS (she was paralyzed and it helped her deal with muscle pain). She lived out in Humboldt County, where they have some crazy good weed. I call it Hannukah weed: One hit and you're lit up for eight days.

So while the chronic illness was very bad, the ill cronic was very good. I'd go out there and she'd have me pack bongs until I was out of my head. That's when I learned a valuable lesson: Never try to outsmoke a paralyzed person. They are going to win. Every time. What's going to happen...Is she going to smoke so much weed that she can get up off the couch? Unlikely.

Trying to outsmoke a paralyzed person is like trying to go shot for shot with the ocean. You: "Come on ocean, I can drink Jaeger all night long!" The ocean: "Bring it on. I'm an immense body of water. Trillions of gallons. I'm not worried. Plus, I'm not even human so I can't get drunk."

And here's another piece of advice on smoking with someone who's paralyzed: No matter how good the weed is, don't call it "The Crippler." That's just bad form.

I think if you’re in a wheelchair, you should be allowed to take whatever drug you want. You’re not driving anywhere. You're not gonna join a wheelchair gang (though that would give new meaning to Bloods vs. Crips: "The Hemophiliacs are battling the Parapalegics again!").

Bottom line: A person who has to wear a seatbelt their entire lives should be allowed to move about the cabin of their mind freely.

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