Laugh Before Breakfast, Cry Before Sunset

In the good ole days, I enjoyed reading the morning paper as I ate my breakfast. Then the 21st century rolled around. I still read the news over my breakfast, but now that news was delivered over a computer monitor instead of by a paperboy or -girl. The years continued going by and the news, despite its name, grew older and older—which is to say, more and more stale. In seeking alternative reading to accompany my oatmeal—something “fresher”—I turned to Reddit, or rather, certain substacks in Reddit. One of my favorites pertains to the uses and disadvantages of cannabis for life.

The other day I came across a post on that substack with the heading: “help me took to much rick simpson oil been high 3 days feel like I’m dying or already dead or maybe I am sleep. idk what can I do? [sic].” Well, those words brought back some not-so-happy memories of forty years ago. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. I want to talk about the generous advice offered to this poor guy, who, for all we know, is still soaring somewhere in the outer ether.

I was struck by how sympathetic and snark-free most of the comments were. For instance, Admirable_Windows1679 wrote: “Lol you will be ok. I have done this by tomorrow you’ll come around. Eat and go back to sleep. I was so wasted I couldn’t walk and no bs my face was actually melting off.” Along the same lines DryDabHit wrote: “Lmao, take some CBD, eat a good meal and keep hydrated. You’ll be back to normal.” Others—employing the same casual disregard for grammar, spelling, and punctuation–offered their own home remedies, a favorite being to place black peppercorns under one’s tongue and suck on them—though one practitioner did caution: “I’ve used this method and it worked for me, but at RSO levels it may not help.” That left me wondering if maybe our poor, baked friend might best be served by climbing into a pepper-tree and curling up in a vacant bird nest for the duration. But I digress.

The further down I scrolled in this thread, the more I found myself giggling. At first, just a bit. Then the laughing started, just a little. Then a lot. Then I hit upon this comment: “You really want to be careful with edibles and Rick Simpson oil and go slow. You can always do more. I know it’s kind of too late for that advice but over doing edibles sux. I feel for you. A 1 mg Xanax or a 1 mg valium or 1 mg kolonapin [sic] would prolly help calm you down if you know anyone that has something like that. But feel free to message me if you have any questions or just need someone to talk to.” Xanax?! Valium?! Klonopin?!!! Now was I laughing out loud. But the next comment—a reply to that last one—had me in tears, “lmao” as they say: “A Xanax would throw him into hibernation mode until this wears off too, I’d do the same.” Perhaps no truer words of wisdom were ever uttered, but I couldn’t stop laughing. It was like an RSO contact high. My wife came into the room to see what all was going on. She asked me if I was high. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even ask her to get me a Valium.

Well, I’ve calmed down now and am writing this to you. Why? Not to share another High Times, Good Times story (they’re all the same anyway) but to offer a reflection on the nature of what it is we call “the news.” Journalism: the word actually means “so-of-the-day,” which is to say, “the news” is akin to a daylily—but without any redeeming floral features. Or maybe it’s like Rick Simpson Oil: You gotta be careful with it. “Start low and go slow,” as the friendly budtender in the dispensary says when handing over the little brown bag of “edibles.” Consume (and that’s the operative word here) too much, and you’ll be posting on Reddit a “help me read to much news I’m dying or already dead or maybe I am sleep.” Then you’ll be sucking on peppercorns, waiting for “things to get back to normal.”

It used to be that “religion was the opiate of the people.” These days it’s “the news.” Or so says some old fox.