Bone In The Fan

What’s next, no porno at the pot stores?

The San Francisco board of supervisors is retarded.  There.  I’ve said it.  Starting this fall, you can’t buy smokes at a drugstore because according to the mayors office:

“A pharmacy should be a place you go to get better, not a place you go to get cancer.”

Riddle me this: Where the fuck do they get off telling people where they should or shouldn’t get their cancer? All this is going to do is force residents to stop at the drugstore for their prescriptions, then make another trip to 7/11 to buy their porno and cancer, which not only unfairly discriminates against people who want equal access to cancer, but means more miles logged in their cars and therefore more CO2 emissions, which I thought they didn’t like in Cali.

This whole micromanagement of behavior, not to mention telling a business which legal products and diseases they can and can’t sell makes me highly agitated. So I’ll take the words of my ancestor (or so my mom tells me) Horace Greeley to heart and “go west young man.” If by “go” he meant “poop,” and by “young” he meant 45. And he meant it figuratively.

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