Dear State of California-
I need you to legalize weed, and do so soon. Not just for medicine… for fun and frivolity! Please? Do it for me. You see, my dreams are denied until the time that you do. My dreams… Sigh… Yes. I have them.
I have them, California.
My dream is to open a Tarot Parlour/Smoking Parlour called…
The High Priestess.
Classy, yes? Do a little Amsterdamage, and Rider a little while ya Waite? Mmm-hmmm! Uh-huh!
But, State of California… Without your generous donation of lightening the fuck up, and just chilling out man… like… we totallly could make a difference or something? You know… man.
Duuuuuude… I totally just think I saw a pony run by. In my living room. Do ponies run or gallop? Does anybody know? I sure as St. Fuckery don’t.
We’d do all kinds of classes on tarot and… entheogen! I love entheogens!
Wait… why am I typing in italics now? MAKE IT STOOOOOPPPPPP! NOOOEESS!!!K!K!K
Dude… that’s kind of trippy.
But anyways… I think I’d style it up sort of Victorian Gentleman’s Club. Smoking. Drinking. Parlour Games. Cheezy full on Fortune Teller bad-assery. Bad to J.Lo’s Ass! No stripper poles. They hadn’t yet invented those yet.
And there could be weed. Which would be nice. We would listen to a lot of Bob Marley, and Matisyahu and then totally deny it. I didn’t do that. One Love? What kind of monist bullshit is that? And I could have a business name utilizing being paganically awesome and priestessy, while being a tarotisa… who… get this… here is the kicker… WHO THINKS WEED IS NEATO!
I’ve never had to plan a business model around a name before.
I am… Eris Hilton. I am… The Auntie Christ. I am… The HiGH*PRiEStESS.
So… come on… Californika… Eh? Do it for me. Big deal… Nothing to you. No man is an island, but you’re like a state and shit. That’s almost like a continent, bro.
I don’t want to sit here listening to Matisyahu by myself and Morganing my Greer with my Thoth on. I’d like to do it for a living. Awwwww-yeah! You know you want it baby… and you can’t have it!
I happen to do my best priestessing while high.
Let me get my awesome taro-ing self into such an awesome businessing busingess!
I’ll let you make the decision, California. But work with me here. This is about tarot, and not about weed. It’s seriously not.
It’s about Tarojuana…
Help me, help you… California. It’s all I ask. Or… I’m moving to Nevada.
All my love, kisses, toodles, smoodles, and cock-blocking poodles…
p.s. I was just kidding about Nevada. It blows.
p.p.s I just pulled The Empress in regards to your budget crisis. I believe that there will be some kind of expansion in industry that will help with budget woes. Something that has to do with growth… agriculture, perhaps? You’ll have to be very creative, much more than normal (or is that NORML?). It will sprout anew from within. You are the beginning of something new. You created it. I think you’ll be reacting this way to the potential legalization has on helping with the budget. It really could be something quite beautiful. I say… do it! Just do it!
p.p.p.s You’re going to sell a shit load of snackfoods. A metric shit ton. Tax that shit to death in the name of health, based on some excuse about people being big old fat fuckers for eating too much of it. Do that. You’ll be selling more junkfood to stoners, and hungry people will be buying the same so it’s more junkfood, and…
Wait… what? I’m hungry. Who has snacks? Queen of Pents? Plsz
BONG HITS FOR ERIS! HAIL JESUS! Wait…
Note: On further thought, this would be a very bad idea. I don’t think I could convince the State of California to do much of anything. I need to 4 of Swords this dream. Le Sigh…