In June 2014, Maureen Dowd published a column that has since acquired legendary status in drug-policy circles. In it, the New York Times writer recounted her experience trying a marijuana candy bar on a visit to Denver not long after Colorado legalized pot. After a calm first hour, the drug plunged her into a personal hell: panting, shudders, confusion, deep paranoia. Eventually: “I became convinced that I had died, and no one was telling me.”
Social media gently mocked Dowd when her column first appeared: silly Boomer, she didn’t dose it right — couldn’t handle the ride. Momentum for legalization was gathering back then, driven by the anti-antidrug Left, the free-market Right, and lobbyists and entrepreneurs who could just hear the cha-ching sounding from the next big vice industry. Twenty-three states plus the District of Columbia would follow in Colorado’s footsteps in the decade that followed.
The picture of weed shared by many older Americans, drawn from their own college years, helped ease the path of legalization. Weed, the mellow drug. The Cheech-and-Chong drug. The Grateful-Dead-road-trip drug. The munchies drug. The drug that, if anything, makes you overly cautious behind the wheel. Dowd thought of marijuana along similar lines — that is, until she tried the legalized stuff for herself and nearly lost her ever-loving mind.
Since then, weed potency has only intensified, with some concentrates reaching near-pure levels of THC, the plant’s primary psychoactive compound. Only now are policymakers and opinion elites reckoning with what Big Weed has wrought: “turning a drug that used to be 5% THC, and made people pass out for a few hours and eat Cheetos, into one that triggers psycho killers,” as Kevin Sabet, a former drug adviser in successive Democratic and GOP administrations, tells me.
Join the conversation as a VIP Member