Things are strange right now. It rained earlier, but the downpour only lasted fifteen minutes. I sat in the garage with the cats and waited until it petered out. The rain droplets made a good, comforting noise, splattering onto the metal rooftop.

Premiere Night 

I am watching a network broadcast television show right now—it is the debut episode of a new series. So far it seems to be about getting high on pot. The laugh-track loves it; it laughs and gasps, and once I’ve heard it exclaim “awwww” after an awkward, ostensibly charming interaction. It’s weird though, because all the characters are sitting around eating pot-laden brownies. I’ve been to an assortment of parties wherein people were getting high on pot. There have been a handful of these parties that involved brownies or cookies, but for the most part, people smoke weed. Maybe they smoke it in a pipe, or in a rolled cigarette… but people smoke weed.

I understand that you are probably reading this and saying, “duh.” I also see the rock and the hard place that artificial public-decency standards have put these networks between. Right now you can talk about smoking weed on a network television show, and you can show people simulating the consumption of weed, but you can’t show anyone actually smoking. So much time, money, and effort has been spent encouraging the idea that smoking is completely unacceptable, that now it can’t be shown in a manner that lets it appear anywhere along the spectrum of neutral-to-beneficial. We’re not even supposed to use cigarette smoking currently to illustrate misfits, rebels, and criminals. “Sure I’ve killed before, and I’ll kill again—but I want my lungs to be fresh and pink when they fry me…”

Pot’s on this weird scale. It has become wide-spread to the point that if you know what you’re looking at, you can spot it growing on every other block, but the drug’s popularity has exceeded its accepted mode of consumption.

Err, whatever. I’m glad whiskey hasn’t been illegal for a good eighty-five years. Don’t quote me on the time frame; Trish is helping with the math. Pot should be legal—everyone is coming around to that. Personally, I think a lot of illegal stuff should be legal. I like being able to walk down to the store and get a pint of whiskey if I feel like it.

Okay, I’m three premieres in and wondering, what the hell drug is floating around Hollywood these days that is sustaining the production of these monstrosities?

I don’t know what’s going on. I have always more or less enjoyed watching television. Something is amiss.

Toilet Humor 

Just saw toilet humor in a premiere. This is the universally-acknowledged admission that the writers are out of ideas. These people have had… I don’t even know how many months or years, to come up with ONE DECENT EPISODE. This is the best they can do? I give up. I’m going to drink the rest of this whiskey, take a long hot bath, and read a book.

Bob Howard has been living, working, and writing in Northern Califonria since he moved to Chico in early 2000. In January 2011, he and his wife Trish relocated to Los Molinos, 30 minutes north of Chico, where they are the proud proprietors of the Double Happiness Farm. There they grow organic food, ornamental plants and trees, and generally work to enjoy the beauty of this great region.