There’s so much in this post we don’t know where to start !
“By the way, sworn police officers are not allowed to smoke marijuana, but try to keep it on the down low. It can be embarrassing to tell people that you not allowed to do all the cool things. By the way, I don’t disagree with this rule.”
Full Post .. be prepared it’s a diatribe
The questions have started; my response will continue to be, “Google is your friend, read the Maine State statutes, or ask your friendly and professional purveyor of marijuana.”
I have been inundated with incoming questions about the new rules in regard to smoking marijuana for those who are no longer forced to refer to it as medicine while they are hiding in their basement near the air handling equipment, or, just an old fan—that only works on the middle setting— blowing the residual smoke out of the chest-high casement windows into their mother’s rose bushes.
It is now legal for recreational purposes in Maine.
I am positive that it is still being successfully used to treat many afflictions, and I am hopeful it is working for that which it has been prescribed. We all get it. Certainly, I know people who have been aided by the medicinal use of same.
There are better places to search for the rules, and you should, if you are planning on taking up the pastime for recreational purposes. Why would you want to ask the cops about it?
One of the upsides in the new rules regarding the recreational use of Marijuana is that I no longer will have to worry about misusing the terms, caregiver, medicine, herbal therapy, and patient when I am engaged in conversations with humans who chose to partake in the ingestion of plant-based herbal calming smoke.
No, these conversations were not work related. These were the terms that I was forced to use at family reunions and other events when my great nephew piped up and said, “Hey, be careful! He’s a cop. I think he’s wearing a wire.”
You see, contrary to popular belief, I haven’t lost a bit of sleep over the new rules. Mainers voted, and here we are.
I have found it somewhat disconcerting that the entire world has deemed all forms of smoke ingestion to be a repulsive and filthy habit, while also telling me that filterless hand-rolled firesticks of the finest backyard-grown Mary. J. Wauna has zero negative effect on lung function. I’m no doctor, and I am not the boss of you.
I already snack like a 70s stoner, and I have been known to partake in both Hostess cupcakes and sweet chili Doritos within the same half-hour period. Years of black coffee and stale doughnuts have made my stomach both larger, and cast iron. I don’t even need to chew Tums or Rolaids after a road-trip that is littered with empty bags of delightful and deep-fried tubers, Mountain Dew, and Whoppers containing self-installed banana peppers..because the King really doesn’t supply those burgers exactly “my way.”
By the way, sworn police officers are not allowed to smoke marijuana, but try to keep it on the down low. It can be embarrassing to tell people that you not allowed to do all the cool things. By the way, I don’t disagree with this rule.
This is not me complaining about the fact that cops can’t partake in recreational marijuana usage. It’s merely me advising you to avoid passing the fatty to the cop who happens to be standing between you and the next person in your “therapy” group at the next Phish festival. It’s best if we don’t become involved in the ritual of passing of the happy salad to your friend, Kevin, even though he has really short arms ever since he has been lifting heavy.
Just ask us to get out of the way so the party can continue uninterrupted by the guy with the bad moustache and the pistol.
You might take this as some type of diatribe against the new rules, and it is, in a way.
You see, the people who smoke cigarettes, pipes, cigars, and all manner of tobacco products have been literally shunned and thrown outside in cold weather, hurricanes, and winter storms for the last thirty-years.
They are forced to walk five-hundred-feet away from the doorways of buildings. No one even supplies a burn-barrel for them to keep their hands warm. I worry about how they feel. Because they have feelings, too. No one ever lets them refer to themselves as caregivers when they pass the menthol-filtered tobacco torch to their friend who is short on cash and can’t afford to pay two hours wages so they can have their own pack of cigarettes.
They’ve been taxed, tormented, and ridiculed for a very long time. I like to show a bit of support for the little guy with a “fresh pack of Luckys and a mint called Sen-Sen.” And, I refuse to judge him for his use of Old Spice aftershave.
I suppose the smoking of anything cannot be really good for you, but, I am not a doctor. I did play one as a child.
For the record, I don’t smoke cigarettes or medicine. As for the recreational use of marijuana, Federal statutues disallow your local, county, and state employed gendarme from partaking in dabs, doobies, and bong-hits as we— apparently—are not actually regular citizens, but merely a class of individual who should not stoned or buzzed while enforcing laws and such. I have to agree.
For you? Smoke away my friends. Check the rules at the State of Maine website, you must be twenty-one-years-old to stop referring to weed as medicine, at least, in front of your mom and dad who you have derided for years for having a couple of Swisher Sweet stogies at the poker game. And, yes, I am talking about dear mother. She also cheats at cards. We love that woman.
**Note from legal team** Much of what Lt. Cotton writes are steeped in his own opinion, and really have no place here on the BPD page. He lost his grandmother to the long-term effects of smoking cigarettes, he just thinks there are better ways to force people to stop partaking in nasty habits other than taxing them into living in a van, down by the river. Cotton also has many bad habits and urges others to seek help for overeating, smoking, drinking to excess, and buying so many scratch tickets at the C-store that you block him from buying his black coffee while you go through thirty-seven “scratchers” while the clerk (your wife) cheers you on because you promised to buy her a 1990 Corvette if you win. The 1990 Chevrolet Corvette was a miscarriage of auto design, and, Cotton is mad about that as well. Buy her a Miata. I mean, if you ever win and get out of the way so he can purchase his coffee.
The Bangor Police Department, its staff, and dogs support your right to live well— and prosper— while doing anything that you are legally allowed to do. Cops don’t really care what you do in your own home, but driving around—stoned—will get you in trouble and you might hurt someone else. We are hopeful that the new laws will make people a little more relaxed.
FYI- Bangor Police Department dogs are not trained to sniff out your marijuana, that would be really dumb, because it is now legal. We saw this coming. Our dogs do sniff out lost people, evidence at crime scenes, and illegal narcotics. Don’t get all hinky and bolt across town if you see Aki, Raye, or Jessie when you are carrying some shake and a half pack of ZigZags, you’ll be tired for no reason. Relax.
****Legal notice**** We have no legal team, and Cotton wrote all of this. If you demand him to be removed from taking care of the Bangor Police Department page because he has offended you in any way, drop a letter to the chief. Cotton says he won’t even complain, and he has other things to do anyway. He has taken up competitive eating and plans of making a run on the Nathan’s in Coney Island for the 2025 hotdog eating contest if this Covid stuff clears up.**
You can find more of Tim Cotton’s writings at his other page where he seems happier writing about stuff that has nothing to do with police work. Tim Cotton‘s page has nothing to do with the BPD page, but he seems to more concerned about overuse of commas and other punctuation over there.
Keep your hands to yourself, leave other people’s things alone, and be kind to one another. All we have is each other. Keep it in mind.