Without checking your cupboards, how many days of snack food do you have stocked up?
If you don't know the answer, it's already too late. April 20th is upon us — AKA 4/20, AKA Kiefster Funday, AKA the Feast of Saint Bowlentine. And it's about to tear our civilization apart...
You might be familiar with the notion that this is a holiday for stoners to roll their "jazz cigarettes" and "spark up a bowl of the dankness." But until now those strange creatures have been forced to live on the margins of society, existing in the shadows of our fair city, beyond the sight of Johnny Law.
Not so anymore. Thanks to the recent legalization of cannabis in the state of New York, those wretches are free to walk among us, and tempt innocent New Yorkers into their patchouli-scented, blacklit, hacky-sacking dens of iniquity. The horror...
While it's true that other states have passed similar laws in the past — New York is actually the 15th state to legalize cannabis — never before has a population so densely packed been given a free pass to indulge in the devil's cabbage so nigh upon this dread holiday. What chance do we have?
Already the burble of water pipes is rising and the fumes and vapors are beginning to gather — a heavy cloud of "good vibes" and anti-establishment sentiments overtaking the city. Once night falls and the entire population of the city has the freedom to take off like Elton John's proverbial "Rocket Man" will ordinary life ever resume?
No longer is there any need for moderation. Hippies and working stiffs alike can toke away to their heart's content — smothering their surroundings in thick clouds. And the rest of us will do what? Wear gas masks for the rest of our lives?!
Now that New Yorkers are allowed to smoke cannabis anywhere they can smoke tobacco — and previous convicts are having their records expunged — here is no hope to escape the reefer madness that is about to overtake the five boroughs. It will consume us all.
Our only hope is that we have stocked up on enough junk food to outlast the storm. And we must pray that our deadbolts and chains will hold longer than the short-term memories of the zombified hordes who inevitably come slouching against our doors, looking for their next fix of "munchies" after Taco Bell has added a fifth, sixth, and seventh meal — only to run out of beef slurry and taco shells altogether.
When governor Cuomo signed this bill into law — hoping to distract from his sexual harassment scandals — did he know what chaos he was inviting upon his citizens? Did he care? We don't stand a chance.
If you're lucky, perhaps your neighborhood bodega still has a snack-size bag of Cheetos being incubated by a the resident cat, or a pint of ice cream bur=ried in the frost at the bottom of the freezer. If you're lucky, your block has yet to be picked bare by the early celebrants of this evil day, and you will get enough to survive the second-hand dose you're about to be gassed with. But it's better not to hope.
Chances are that you won't make it through this. Get ready to stream your favorite cartoons — because you won't be good for much else — then say goodbye to your loved ones and get ready to walk through a gateway drug to hell.
By this time next week, the entirety of New York City will have fallen to chaos and ruin. We will all be hooked on whatever substances lie on the other side of that gateway — spleen splitters or whisker biscuits or nipsy daisers (with or without the scooter stick).
If this website survives past the coming collapse of social order, do not remember me as a prophet — for this sad end was inevitable — Joe Biden has always known it. Just honor my memory by doing everything in your power to continue treating people who enjoy cannabis as the worst class of criminals. It's the only way to save the rest of society from New York's sad fate.