Lt Guv Gav Newsom, triumphant at the polls, and now the favorite son of mothers for many years to come in Coastal California, or at least as many as exist in a spiraling vortex until something different comes along, savored his fleeting moment for seven days. Seven days was enough. Soon, and never too soon, there would be shit loads of work to get done by uncounted others in his behalf. Someday, with sufficient focus upon selflessness, they might count. Shit happens, after all, and never ends. Name a growth industry with more raw potential.
Not even the multiple levels of weed extraaction, soon to be the number one worldwide industrial market of all times, comes close to matching what gets flushed down the drain. Opportunity is no mystery. There are philosophers who extol plumbing, and not without cause, premise, presumption, reason, but still. C’mon. Number one can’t be beat. Get fucking real, why don’tcha? Then you might be able to get used by Lt Guv Gav for cause, reason, and presumption, too.
When weed becomes a staple, California will need to grow bigger because California is not big enough. To become an independent state after a new declaration of independence, and to fight the good fight for civil war fought for indigenous freedom, which is only right, because indigenous rights don’t die, a rightful sovereign state must pay the cost to become bigger.
Lt Guv Gav confidently proclaims, “No problemo.”