Tag Archives: colorado

You Can Now Buy Weed from a Drive-Thru in Colorado

Good news, stoners: The nation's first ever drive-thru dispensary for recreational weed is opening in Colorado on Thursday, just in time for 4/20, the Post Independent reports.

The Tumbleweed Express in Parachute, Colorado, is set to become the only recreational dispensary of its kind to offer the convenient service. When 4 PM rolls around, some lucky pothead will become the first in the country to pull his car up to a window and pick up bud from a drive-thru without needing a medical license. Well, maybe not the first.

Mark Smith, who opened the outfit as an offshoot from his larger, original Tumbleweed dispensary, decided to pursue a drive-thru option after people repeatedly knocked on the window of his shop and asked for green after hours. When a car-wash business across the street from his dispensary went up for sale, he pounced on it and set about making it 4/20-friendly. 

"It seemed like the perfect fit," Smith told a local Fox affiliate. "The stars were in alignment."

Though folks have opened drive-thru dispensaries in other parts of the country—like Olympia, Washington—they only dish out medical weed. One Oregon company tried to pioneer the first ever recreational marijuana drive-thru last year, but it was shut down because it had set up shop right next to two schools.

Smith, however, didn't face too much opposition from the officials in his 1,100-person town, but the operation will need to follow a few stringent regulations. For starters, no one under the age of 21 can be in the car when it goes through the drive-thru. Also, he'll need to have security on-site at all times.

So long as Smith follows those rules, he'll soon be running America's first-ever recreational marijuana drive-thru, serving up product Thursday through Sunday from 4 PM to midnight.

Follow Drew Schwartz on Twitter.

This Is Probably the Most Stoned Stretch Of Highway In All America

Deuel County sits on the inner edge of the Nebraska panhandle, right where I-76 breaks off from I-80 to head down into Colorado. With a population of just under 2,000, the county is served by a paltry five-member police force. And yet even with that tiny law-enforcement presence, Deuel boasted a marijuana arrest rate of more than 24.23 per 1000 residents in 2014, almost six times the statewide average. In the past 15 years, in fact, Deuel County has arguably become one of the worst places in America to smoke or possess—much less enjoy—weed.

Scott DeCoste has been sheriff of Deuel County for the past two years, and on the force there for a little over three. When he got started, Colorado had recently legalized marijuana, and according to Decoste, it didn't take long for pot-related arrests to become a big part of his job.

"It's as busy as it has ever been," DeCoste recently told VICE in an interview. "If you get a vehicle for speeding, nine times out of ten, they'll have some pot or something from the dispensaries over there on them. It's nothing new."

To be sure, the sheriff insists his police force isn't looking to stop people just because they're leaving Colorado and might have weed. But if his officers do stop you, they're probably going to take away your pot—and if it's hash oil or edibles, you're probably going to spend the night in jail.

Deuel County is not alone, of course. According to a study by researchers at the University of Nebraska, since at least 2000, when Colorado approved medical marijuana, Nebraska has seen an increase in marijuana possession arrests along the border. That number rose dramatically in 2014, when weed sales and consumption were made legal for everyone 21 and over. Between 2013 and 2014 alone, the border counties increased possession arrests by 32.4 percent.

These days, according to Sheriff DeCoste some 60 percent of all highway stops in Deuel County turn up some reefer.

"In all honesty, people will tell me, 'You bastards, you just got me coming out of Colorado,'" Decoste said. "'No! If you weren't doing 85 MPH, I wouldn't of stopped you. And man, I encourage people, if you think we're picking on Colorado people, we have to see them doing a violation. We have to have a reason to stop you. We can't stop you just because you're coming out of a state. It's unconstitutional." (In fairness, the University of Nebraska report found that the pot arrest rate in Deuel County, while the highest in the state, actually declined between 2013 and 2014, and more recent comprehensive data was not available.)

"Some people think we're the 'buzzkill county,' but we're trying to do the job the right way." —Sheriff Scott DeCoste

While it's natural to wonder if the cop who pulls you over had a legit reason or just wanted to kill your vibe, Decoste isn't exactly going out on a limb with his tough stance. States bordering Colorado have had a contentious relationship with weed since legalization began, taking their complaints about the corrupting influence of pot all the way to the Supreme Court, which declined to hear one major case last spring. And that setback hasn't stopped some of these same border states from sounding the alarm about a flood of Colorado ganja. Kansas Attorney General Derek Schmidt, for his part, put a report last fall documenting the rise of nefarious foreign bud in Kansas, though it notably declined to provide much in the way of evidence that weed consumption in the state had actually increased because of it.

Jared Ellison, one of the authors of the University of Nebraska study analyzing pot arrests in the region, explained that just because people are being arrested more for marijuana possession doesn't necessarily mean there's more weed in the state.

"These numbers are being driven by out-of-county residents," Ellison said, noting the obvious: the majority of highway arrests tend to be people on their way elsewhere in the state or just passing through. "It's impossible for the amount of arrests to be taking place to just be county residents. So that's the problem with mistaking arrests for use. Arrests are just a reflection of what law enforcement is doing, not necessarily use."

According to the University's report, a large increase in arrests came from Nebraska's state patrol, which keeps tabs on the highways. Between 2013 and 2014, the last two years covered by the report, counties that saw an increase in state patrol and local police presence saw rises in marijuana arrests as well. Ellison did note, however, that when compared to the cost of increased enforcement, the amount of money being taken in by fines for marijuana possession did not seem to be a motivating factor. In other words, this isn't anything like a Ferguson situation where the cops were propping up municipal budgets by targeting the poor for low-level offenses.

"In terms of money, they're not gaining a whole lot for it, especially if you examine how long it takes an officer [who] has to stay with someone accused of possession," Ellison said. "You think of how much they make an hour, the costs to the county and state for the courts system. I think it could just be an ideological difference between the people of Nebraska and other states."

Of course, even with Nebraska's increased enforcement, it still lags far behind other, more populated places in the United States—even those nowhere near legal weed wonderlands. Drug law enforcement has traditionally hit urban communities of color hardest; a 2010 report by the American Civil Liberties Union found black people were almost four times as likely to be arrested for weed as whites.

"In terms of the number of arrests, where those are happening, it's large cities in large counties," said Ezekiel Edwards, director of the ACLU's Criminal Law Reform Project. "We found that places like New York City, back in the 2000s, places like Chicago, Baltimore, that's where you had high numbers of marijuana arrests. That said, when you look at per capita rates, where you're most likely to be arrested, it didn't reflect places where the most arrests were happening. Midwestern states like Iowa and Minnesota were states where the rates were the highest, and the disparities by race were still very high."

Colorado's conservative neighbors are now appealing to Attorney General Jeff Sessions, a staunch anti-marijuana crusader, to bring an end to this brave new era. At the end of February, Nebraska's Attorney General, Doug Peterson, met with Sessions to discuss the impact of Colorado's "big overflow" of weed on the state, as he put it. Trumps's top law enforcement officer took the opportunity to remind reporters that he is "definitely not a fan of expanded use of marijuana."

Check out this MUNCHIES guide to eating your weed.

Meanwhile, Kansas AG Schmidt wrote a letter to the Justice Department (DOJ) earlier this month, calling on the feds to enforce laws prohibiting marijuana, which Schmidt complained "were routinely ignored" during the Obama administration. And two weeks ago, Sessions announced the formation of a task force looking at the DOJ's marijuana policy, asking for the report to be delivered to him by July 27. The attorney general could theoretically decide to sue the state of Colorado over its policies, or just randomly target pot businesses in the state, crippling the economy and sacking a burgeoning way of life. He could also direct more money into neighboring states to help stem violence related to marijuana, which he believes happens more than "one would think."

"Sessions seems hellbent to take us back to the 1980s, where the answer to public health problems like drug use are SWAT Teams, guns, handcuffs and prison, and not investing in communities," Edwards told me.

Regardless of whether Sessions ramps up enforcement, DeCoste, the Nebraska border county sheriff, insists he's not pulling people over for fun or to prove a point. He just wants to serve the citizens of Deuel County— all 1,900 or so of them.

"Some people think we're the 'buzzkill county,' but we're trying to do the job the right way," he told me. "We want to be respected by our county, meaning the citizens in it. If they think we're doing the right thing, that's what matters. So it sucks being considered unfair in some people's eyes, but in all honesty, I know I'm not going to make everyone happy. If you want to legalize weed, that's your thing. Unfortunately, weed is illegal here, and we have a duty to do our job."

Follow Max Rivlin-Nadler on Twitter.

Fun in the Supermax

This story was published in collaboration with the Marshall Project.

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

I had spent the previous 12 months incarcerated at the Federal Prison Camp at Florence, Colorado. Living with 400 other minimum-security inmates, I'd grown acclimated to a certain level of background noise: radios playing, loud conversations, card games. The place buzzed with the sound of life—not much of a life, but life nonetheless.

Now I was walking into our neighboring facility, the infamous "supermax," and it was as silent as a tomb.

I'd recently had my prison job transferred from the recreation department at the camp to the same department at the supermax. Three days a week, I would be an inmate worker inside the most imposing building I had ever seen.

If someone asked me to describe the word "doom" using just a picture, I would hand them a photo of that maximum security prison.

On my first day, we boarded a bus and drove the two miles over. As we got off, I realized the place had two levels: the upper levels held administrative offices, medical stations, and guard rooms, and the lower levels housed the prisoners in a maze of electronically locking doors and steep ramps.

We went through an ID check, two pat-downs (one on each side of a razor wire-topped fence), and a metal detector.

"I have six campers moving from back bay to recreation," the guard next to me squawked into his radio.

"You're free to make that move," responded the voice of an unseen officer, whose job it was to  watch the monitors and help coordinate the movement of the inmate workers bused in from the camp.

The door opened and we proceeded down a large hallway. Overhead, halogen lights glared every few feet. The walls were bare, painted a white that was almost reflective. Nothing could hide here, not even shadows.

As we walked, an administrator turned the corner and came toward us. Because I was near the front, I didn't notice that every other Camp inmate had stopped and pressed themselves flat against the wall.

"Williams, stop!" the guard yelled.

I froze, unsure what I had done but realizing that he'd used his "show" voice, reserved for situations when higher-ups are observing, when the CO is trying to impress other inmates with his harshness, or when you have royally fucked up.

"This ain't the fucking camp. In this building, when anyone is walking towards you that's not wearing green, you stop and press yourself against the wall. And you stay there until they are a dozen feet past us."

"Got it, boss."

After several more electronic doors, we arrived. An officer we knew from camp greeted us, and was soon explaining what our job would be. On Tuesdays, he said, our six-inmate crew would shelve books returned by the supermax inmates; we would also type up a ten-question quiz about one of the novels, make copies for every inmate, and place them on the appropriate cart. On Wednesdays, we would fill requests for new books, grade the returned quizzes, and place candy bars on the winners' carts. Wednesdays we would also prepare a math, logic, or visual puzzle for the inmates, which we would then grade on Thursday.  

An inmate who had already been working at the supermax for years told me that the quizzes almost always had a large number of winners, because the inmates whisper the answers to each other. That way, everyone on the tier gets the highest score and a candy bar.

Soon, I was sitting down before an ancient typewriter, trying to think of some good quiz questions. The inmates had apparently been watching all eight Harry Potter movies recently, so I typed up a quiz on Harry Potter from memory.

Among the questions I posed to the most dangerous inmates in the world: How does one free a house elf from servitude?

The next day, when I sat down to grade the returned quizzes, I noticed that most of the inmates had gotten 5 out of ten. Just as I'd been told, there were over a dozen inmates with this score on each tier, making them all "winners." I had already started doling out the candy bars when I came across another quiz—with a score of 8 out of ten.

At the top of the page, in perfect all-caps, the inmate had written: THEODORE JOHN KACZYNSKI.

I circled the score and put his sheet and candy bar on D wing's cart, alone.

After lunch, the guards came to collect the carts. One of them beckoned me over.

"What's going on? There's only one candy bar," he asked.

"Kaczynski dropped an eight on them. Everyone else got fives."

"Fuck! They are gonna be pissed about that. Grab me a box of PowerBars, I'm not listening to a bunch of whining today. It's bad enough you sent them a Harry Potter quiz."

"I thought they would like it! They just watched the movies..."

"Well they didn't like it. I've been listening to them complain about it all morning."

Check out our interview with Barry Jenkins, director of 'Moonlight.'

My exchanges with the supermax inmates eventually became more cordial. I continued to write themed quizzes (the astronomy one was surprisingly popular, producing a handful of perfect answers), mixed in with some pulled directly from a 12-year-old Trivial Pursuit game.

I even opened a letter from the Unabomber. Like everything else Kaczynski sent in, it was written in all caps and he referred to himself as THEODORE JOHN KACZYNSKI. But rather than a diatribe, he was simply making a polite request for books.   

I recognized one of the titles: "The Name of the Wind," by Patrick Rothfuss.

I like to think that fantasy books are popular in prison because they allow the inmate to escape his surroundings. But there's a simpler reason: prisoners are only allowed a certain number of books, and fantasy books tend to be much longer than general fiction.

If you can only have three books, might as well make one of them a 1,000-pager.

Blake Williams, 34, was incarcerated at a satellite camp of the Federal Correctional Institution in Florence, Colorado, for securities fraud and conspiracy to commit securities fraud.

Weed Is Officially a Billion-Dollar Industry in Colorado

In its third year since legalizing recreational marijuana, the Colorado dispensaries took in $1.3 billion in legal weed sales, according to the Colorado Department of Revenue.

Recreational marijuana accounted for about two-thirds of 2016's haul, ringing in at $875 million in sales, compared with medical marijuana's $438 million, according to the Cannabist. The state took in $199 million in taxes and fees, too, which is usually put toward law enforcement, building schools, and helping the homeless

This is the third year in a row that weed sales have increased in the state, but the first time they broke the ten-figure mark. In 2014, the state sold $699.2 million, followed by $996.2 million in 2015. Pot prognosticators think that 2017 will break another record, but after that, they expect Colorado's kush boom to level off.

The expected downturn is due to a number of factors, including increased competition as more states begin to legalize the drug. Some of those states, like Maine and Massachusetts, won't have their regulations in place until 2018, which is why Colorado will still likely reap the benefits next year. Weed prices nationally have already dipped a bit, signaling an influx of product in the market that might be starting to exceed the demand. 

Still, the novelty is starting to wear off a bit. According to the Denver Post, the Colorado Tourism Office found that fewer people were visiting the state solely to get stoned. Presumably snowboarders on vacation will still pick up an ounce or some edible gummies, but the tourism office saw a return of the "more usual Colorado traveler" in 2016, instead of those just looking to score legally. 

"It was a difficult year," Sally Vander Veer, president of large Denver dispensary Medicine Man, told the Cannabist. "We're still seeing a steady increase in the number of customers and patients, but [sales] numbers are pretty flat." 

Even Furries Are Fighting Fascists

Beginning in January, Red started getting calls from groups of furries who wanted her help fighting Nazis.

Red—who did not want me to use her real name because members of her subculture who speak to the press can be blacklisted from events—knows her stuff. The 26-year-old Chicagoan has been dressing up in a fur suit since 2008, and joined Antifa International three years later, after getting involved in the Occupy Wall Street protests. Antifa International (for anti-fascist) is a group dedicated to fighting right-wing politics, and to achieve that mission antifas are prepared to do anything up to and including punching Nazis. But Red, who believes fascist rhetoric should be met with a closed fist—or paw—wasn't sure the furries were prepared to do what it took.

"Most furries find any kind of violence abhorrent," she told me.

The furry fandom is one of the most inclusive subcultures on the internet. Many furries are queer, and most are used to being ridiculed for their "fursonas," anthropomorphized animal avatars that are used in roleplaying that sometimes (but not always) gets sexual. But even the furry community isn't immune from the political upheaval sweeping through America. Instead, it's a microcosm—albeit an odd one—of the culture war that the rest of the country is consumed by. The furries who called Red faced a question all too familiar to many people today: What should be done about far-right figures coming out of the shadows?

To be clear, Nazis are not new to the furry community. All the way back in 2007, a group called Furzi clashed with Jewish users of the game Second Life, which is a popular place for furries to congregate. Several members of the fandom told me that the ideology has festered among some furries ever since. More recently, a group called the Furry Raiders has become emboldened by the campaign, and eventual victory, of Donald Trump.

The Raiders are led byLee Miller, a 29-year-old Furry who goes by Foxler Nightfire—a blue-eyed character who wears a red-and-black armband that should be familiar to any student of world history. Although he's been a known quantity within in the fandom for years, Foxler drew wider attention in January when he tweeted out a picture of himself with the hashtag #altfurry.

In late November, before "alt-furries" or "Nazifurs" attracted media attention, group called Antifa Furries formed to try to address the growing problem. Their goal is to get Nazifurs banned from events and to encourage furries to get involved in politics—efforts that seasoned activists like Red think are insufficient when it comes to combatting the far right.

Red told me that when members of the Antifa Furs called her up to ask for advice, they didn't like what she had to say. Though being "anti-fascist" seems like an obvious position to take, especially at a time like this, many antifas advocate property destruction and other forms of lawbreaking—which, Red said, the Antifa Furs weren't up for.

"Everyone jumped on this antifa bandwagon, but they are getting over their head," she told me. "It's not for all liberals, it's for anarchists and for communists. It's not for people who wanna hold a sign or sign a petition, it's for people who are willing to do whatever is necessary to stomp out fascism."

logo courtesy of Antifa Furries

Instead of fighting Foxler with violence, the Antifa Furries decided to go with a strategy of trying to convince people to boycott conventions that didn't ban the Furry Raiders from attending—a fairly roundabout way of ostracizing one's enemies.

Fiver, a soft-spoken 20-something member of a group called the Antifa Furries, told me that furries—who tend to be both gentle and geeky—may reluctant to expel problematic community members because they're afraid of being as intolerant as the people who bullied them in high school.

"While we do desire to be as accommodating and accepting as possible, this attitude has also required the acceptance of Nazis who will turn around and tell you that if you don't accept them, you're the real fascist," he told me.

When I talked to Lee Miller, who lives in Fort Collins, Colorado, he told me he's been into the fandom since he 12. According to the high school dropout, his Nazi-esque armband originated as a Second Life accessory—but it's difficult to pin him down on what it actually represents, or what he actually believes.During the course of our conversation, he oscillated between claiming ignorance and irony. When I asked why he won't just take off the armband to end the drama, he unspooled a story about how the character of Foxler was based on his deceased father and that changing it would be tantamount to disrespecting his memory. When I asked about his politics, he said that they're starting to change in reaction to all the backlash he's received from people offended by his outfit. Before all of this, he used to look exclusively at 4Chan, he says, but now he's starting reading about "SJWs" and "safe spaces" and getting more involved in what might be termed slightly more mainstream right-wing modes of thought.

"Why are people trying to control my existence or tell me what I can and can't do when it's within the law?" he says. "I've never really driven into politics, but I need to get more serious about them now that all this is happening."

Miller says he originally supported Bernie Sanders, but now agrees with at least some of Trump's views. He also admires Trump's campaign tactics and the way the orange-faced provocateur played the media into giving him coverage. Meanwhile, furries aligned against him say Foxler/Miller has emulated these tricks. They say that he'll say anything to anyone as long as it increases his popularity and gets him more followers. It doesn't matter that he's bisexual, or that his boyfriend is a minority, because aligning himself with white nationalism has given him a platform. His backstory and its apparent contradictions make him vaguely similar to Milo Yiannopoulos, the alt-right personality who has built a whole career out of saying things calculated to piss off the left. Miller even attended a Yiannopoulos event he attended last month in full furry regalia.

As for how a furry might be radicalized in the first place, one hypothesis among furries is that members of the fandom congregate on anything-goes image boards like 4Chan, which are also frequented by members of hate groups like Storefront who will deliberately appeal to lonely nerds. The Raiders, like a fair number of those on the far right these days, can claim that they're just conducting a social experiment or trolling, but their opponents say that's just an excuse that they use to hide their honestly bigoted views.

"Foxler is all about grooming and manipulating people that don't feel like they belong anywhere—and, let's face it, most furries feel like they don't belong anywhere," a Colorado-based furry named Ash told me.

Ash is a 28-year-old who, like Miller, lives in Colorado and has been working to ban Foxler and his crew from local meetups. Armbands are now almost universally disallowed from the local scene, she told me, and Foxler is also not welcome at a local bimonthly dance party called Foxtrot. One problem, however, is that since people in the community are almost always in disguise at these events, it's impossible to tell who is secretly an alt-furry. Ash and others have been monitoring Twitter and trying to suss out who's been communicating with the enemy, but it's been tough.

Her big target is the Rocky Mountain Fur Con, which is set to take place this August in Denver. Anti-fascist furries claim that members of the Raiders are on staff there and that the con has been silent about their pleas to ban Nazis because they fear violence like the chlorine gas attack that sent 19 Illinois con-goers to the hospital in 2014.

Sorin, the con's chairman, declined a formal interview but instead issued a relatively middle-of-the-road statement: "Rocky Mountain Fur Con does not support or condone discrimination or violence in any of it's forms and is saddened by the hatred and division that has been caused be [sic] a small minority of our community on both sides of this issue."

That division, like the larger one afflicting America, isn't likely to heal anytime soon.

"It's so strange that this is also happening in our community," Ash told me. "But since the fandom is growing exponentially and the group is getting bigger, we were bound to pick up a small sliver of people that are completely off the wall. Foxler would be that sliver."

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.

There’s So Much Legal Weed That It Might Now Be Too Cheap

If there's one thing to take away from Economics 101, it's the fundamental rules of supply and demand. When the supply exceeds the demand, prices tumble, which is exactly what's happening right now in the legal weed market. 

According to Forbes, the prices for marijuana in the states where it's legal have fallen precipitously. In 2015, wholesale pot plummeted from $2,500 a pound to only $1,000 in 2016. In Colorado, prices went from $8 a gram for marijuana flower (what the rest of us call "bud") in mid 2016 to a current price of $6. The drop was more dramatic in Washington, where prices decreased from $25 a gram to just $6.

Experts believe this is a result of heavy investment in the marijuana business, which is causing pot production to exceed demand as big-money speculators try to cash in on the emerging market. In the short-term, this market saturation means that prices at the dispensary will be down. But as it becomes more difficult for small growers to turn a profit, they may go out of business, possibly leaving kush fiends with fewer options.

A crowded market might not be the worst thing for consumers, though. When there is a lot of product vying for tokers' attentions, brands are forced to differentiate and go beyond coming up with cute strain names like "Steve McGarrett's Hair" or "God's Vagina 2.0." Some strains will likely rely on celebrity endorsements, like Willie Nelson's Willie's Reserve or Snoop Dogg's Leafs by Snoop. Others will go the Whole Foods route, making organic and pesticide-free bud available at a premium. Some may just try to make their pot stronger.

Still, there are parts of the marijuana market that are holding steady, particularly edibles, concentrated oils, and concentrates made for vapes. There's also the high-end weed market with its $200 blunts that shows no sign of slowing down.

Of course, this is only a concern to those in the eight states where recreational marijuana is currently legal. While the legal weed market is worth about $6.9 billion a year, 87 percent of all marijuana purchases are still made on the black market, which is estimated to be worth, annually, about $46 billion. Some might argue that we're currently living in the Golden Age of Illegal Weed, where dealers are still seeing large profit margins.

A Denver Deli Owner Is Making His Own Weed-Smoked Turkey

Smoked turkey, a staple of the deli aisle, is usually made by allowing the smoke of hickory, mesquite, or apple wood chips to aid in cooking the large bird. But one deli owner in downtown Denver has successfully fulfilled a stoner's Thanksgiving fantasy by basically hot boxing a turkey and creating his own marijuana-smoked piece of meat, local NBC affiliate WKYC reports. 

However, the meat of the appropriately titled Mile High sandwich at Cook's Fresh Market probably won't get you stoned like some gourmet edible from a dispensary. Instead of using marijuana buds, owner Ed Janos says he used a bunch of stems from the plant, which don't carry THC. 

"I was really surprised," Janos told WKYC of the final product. "It didn't smell like marijuana burning. It had a sweet aroma, like a cherry wood, and it was absolutely delicious." He added, "I tasted a couple of slices and didn't feel anything."

For those with their own stash of sticky stems at home who want to recreate the recipe, Janos prepped the bird by first brining it with sugar, salt, and spices, then letting it sit for three days. The smoking process then took about six hours at a low temperature.

"Some people are afraid to try it," Janos said of his creation. "Some people are like, 'Wow, this is really good.' So it's—people are kind of surprised, and they're talking about it."

If you want to try Janos's speciality product, you better get a plane ticket to Denver now because he's only keeping the Mile High sandwich on the menu while the first batch of meat lasts. But don't worry, he told WKYC he doesn't think his smoking process is illegal—Colorado only grants marijuana licenses to specific types of retailers—so he might keep making his delicious, revolutionary meat, provided the cops don't have a problem with it.

You People Need to Stop With This Scary Clown Bullshit

Okay jokers, listen up. Maybe you think dressing as a psychotic clown seems like jolly good fun. Maybe you see it as some larger commentary on the macabre absurdity of human existence. Maybe you didn’t have to sleep with the lights on for an entire summer after watching Steven King’s It at a slumber party. I don’t care — we’re done with this bullshit.

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