Vineland Revisited: Prop 19

[Robin Landseadel]

I would love, love, love a [California] novel length exploration of  
Proposition 19 by Pynchon, the politics, the players, the surreal  
nature of the emerging business model, the whole.

Wouldn't as so happy if it ran to 1200 pages.


	Soullite 		Yesterday 		02:27 PM

	In the end, the elite were simply never going to address this issue.  
They enjoy having a near-
	universal excuse for arresting anyone they want whenever they want.  
Those elite are in turn
	backed up by federal and state enforcement agencies that make too  
much of a profit by
	stealing from drug dealers. If the public didn't take this issue up  
itself, it was never going to get done.

	Right now, the political elite aren't getting anything at all done.  
They should not be given
	an ounce of deference if they can't even keep the economy from  
collapsing or do anything
	once it does.

http://yglesias.thinkprogress.org/2010/10/the-prop-19-train-wreck/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+matthewyglesias+%28Matthew+Yglesias%29&utm_content=Google+Reader

See also:

	The big question left unresolved by Holder’s announcement is the  
behavior of state and
	local cops with respect to commercial growing and (non-medical)  
retailing. If no county
	or municipality can issue a license, that activity will remain  
illegal in California. If
	California law enforcement continues to enforce those laws  
vigorously, nothing much
	will change. If not, there’s no way to put enough Federal resources  
in the field to make
	up for the absence of state and local enforcement, and California  
will become the
	cannabis supplier to the rest of the country, and probably Canada.

http://www.samefacts.com/2010/10/drug-policy/prop-19-holder-says-no/
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		At the far end of the courtyard was a Mexican with a hose, chatting  
with
	one of the housekeepers. jardine's room hadn't been made up, yet. The  
bed
	had been slept on, but not in. Lew made his way through the place,  
hoping,
	and not hoping, for surprises. The small chifferobe held only a  
couple of
	hairpins and a price tag from the hat department at Capwell's. The  
shelf over
	the sink in the bathroom had an empty face-cream jar on it. Lew could  
see
	nothing out of the ordinary in either the bowl or the tank of the  
toilet. But
	he got an idea. He went down to the office again, flipped a bright  
new fifty-
	cent piece to the kid, and asked to use the phone. There was a  
Filipino hop
	dealer he knew down on lower State who could gaze into the depths of a
	toilet bowl the way other scryers might a crystal ball or teacup, and  
learn the
	damnedest things, most of them useless, but now and then so  
illuminative of
	secrets a subject might think he or she had kept perfectly hidden  
that there
	was no way this side of the supernatural to explain it. Cops here and  
in L.A.
	respected Emilio's gift enough to allow him discounts on the payoffs
	required to pursue his career in agricultural goods unmolested.

	Against the Day, 1043/1044

Wait a minute -- When exactly did the heat come down on Hop, anyway?

How long has marijuana been underground, anyway?