[ad_1]
In a land where the grass is always greener—or at least it would be if anyone could get their hands on it—Alabama has decided to take its medical marijuana program on a scenic detour through the labyrinthine legal system. Because who doesn’t love a good game of “musical chairs” when it comes to accessing medicine?
In a thrilling twist of bureaucratic irony, Montgomery Circuit Judge James Anderson has appointed retired Circuit Judge Eugene Reese as the mediator in this long-running cannabis comedy. One wonders if Reese will bring snacks to the mediation sessions, maybe some nachos made from fresh, non-medical ingredients—because heaven forbid the deliberations get clouded by anything remotely resembling medicinal judgment. After all, nothing screams “compassionate care” like a sprawling legal battle that keeps patients waiting longer than a DMV line.
Three years post-approval of a program that promised pot for patients, the only thing rolling in Alabama seems to be red tape. Medical cannabis remains as available as a unicorn in a haystack as the eager legal teams square off for their daily dose of courtroom drama. “It’s a feast for the lawyers at the expense of the citizens’ health and quality of life,” noted Amanda Taylor, who’s been left high and dry by a system that’s more tangled than a bad hair day.
Those denied licenses are doing what any rational group would do: hurling accusations about violations of state law, administrative rules, and possibly the sacred code of the Fellowship of the Weed. Meanwhile, those with licenses are anxiously vying for the green light to start selling. It’s a classic case of the haves vs. the have-nots—only here, instead of wealth, it’s about who can legally sell something that once required finding the right alleyway and a bit of luck.
So as Alabama’s Medical Cannabis Commission shuffles around, trying and failing to award licenses like a clumsy magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat (except this hat is empty, and the rabbits are all still in court), one can only hope this game of legal limbo wraps up before the next ice age. And let’s keep our fingers crossed that when the dust finally settles, patients will get the medicine they need instead of floundering in a pond of corporate greed and litigious limbo.
Remember, folks: while 24 other states are catching a buzz from recreational use, Alabama soars high on the sweet aroma of procrastination and the warm, fuzzy feeling of “judicial mediation.” Ain’t democracy grand?
[ad_2]Source
