cannabisnews.com: A Taste of Their Own Medicine 





A Taste of Their Own Medicine 
Posted by FoM on March 11, 2001 at 08:53:58 PT
By Suzanne Girot
Source: San Francisco Chronicle 
"Pull over! There are at least 20 cars behind you," Todd shouted at me. I looked at the rearview mirror and saw a long snake-on-wheels winding uphill behind us. "I have to wait for a pull-out area," I said. Driving south on Devil's Slide is dangerous enough when you're sober, and sober we were not. 
"Speed it up!" he yelled. "That brownie was strong. This is fast enough," I insisted. I was becoming increasingly irritated with Todd, my cameraman, a tall, well- built, tanned surfer-type. We were on our way home to Santa Cruz after filming some medical marijuana patients in San Francisco for my 1195 documentary, "Let Our People Grow." Brownie Mary had assembled a great cast of characters for us to interview at Dennis Peron's house. Dennis Peron, founder of the Cannabis Buyers' Club. Dennis Peron, perennial target of police raids. Dennis was tough: "I've been busted 16 times, I've been shot at by the cops, I've been stepped on, called every name in the book." We got his testimony on video. But it was Brownie Mary who made the strongest impression on me that day. If only she hadn't given me that brownie. If only I hadn't eaten it. She was the sassiest 70-year-old I'd ever met. Matronly, her gray hair permed, she sported large buttons all over her vest: "Please, Lord, protect me from your followers," "I'm doing something about AIDS - I volunteer," "Laws were made to be broken," and a pin with a picture of a ripe marijuana bud. While we set up the camera gear to interview some patients in Dennis' kitchen, Brownie Mary asked Dennis to sex her new plant. She held a bud out to him. "It's a female," Dennis told her. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in a victory gesture. Only the female plants produce the THC-laden buds that contain the medicinal properties of marijuana. The house was full of marijuana patients who had come to pick up their monthly supply of medicine, which Brownie Mary supplied gratis. The mood was upbeat, jovial even. One patient, Pebbles Trippet (probably not her original name) used marijuana daily as a preventive for migraines. Fiftyish, with skin dried out by years of marijuana smoke, wearing a black beret with a pin the shape of a marijuana leaf stuck to the front, Pebbles' on-camera interview went like this: "My name is Pebbles. That means little stones. Just a little stoned, you know. " Then she took a giant drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke at the camera and straight into Todd's face. Todd choked and yelled, "Cut!" We started again. "If I feel a migraine coming on, like when I was in jail and didn't have access, I cry," Pebbles continued. "Crying is like an orgasm; it helps relieve the tension." It was while interviewing Pebbles that I felt a migraine of my own coming on. Power of suggestion, perhaps? I had to sit down. "Wow. I'm having that dancing-light migraine aura," I said. Brownie Mary opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic baggie with a brownie inside. "Try this." Without thinking, I popped the entire brownie into my mouth. We resumed Pebbles' interview. As I asked her questions, my mouth went dry. It's all there on my source tape. Me: "That was a great brownie. Only thing is, my mouth is really dry." Dennis: "Rehydrate! Rehydrate!" Brownie Mary: "That's another medical use of the plant; it makes you drink more fluids." Todd pulled me aside. "Listen," he said. "You're not acting professional. We've got to keep it together and interview the others." Dennis overheard Todd telling me how to behave and offered him his joint. "Relax, you'll get everyone," he told Todd. Todd looked at the cigarette, hesitated a moment, then looked up to see the eyes of the medical users focused on him, and he caved. He took a long hit, then fell backwards onto the couch. "I feel like I'm going to pass out," he said. Now I was concerned. We couldn't blow the opportunity to get all these interviews. Betsy, a patient who had shown up for her monthly rations, brought Todd a cold washcloth for his forehead. She sat next to him on the couch and pinned a button on his shirt with a picture of a bud and "Inhale to the Chief" written around its perimeter. Someone in the kitchen made him tea. Through a group effort, Todd revived. We began Betsy's interview. "I tried all the AIDS medications. They all made me sick. I lost 30 pounds. I asked for marijuana, but the doctors wouldn't let me have it." She paused and ran a hand through her thinning light brown hair. "So I called my mother and she said, ÔF- 'em, they're not God," and she got me an eighth." My head was throbbing. The brownie was supposed to make it better. I decided I'd have to take my own medication. I stopped the filming and excused myself to go take a pill. When I got back Todd was in a foul mood. "What took you so long?" he demanded. "Let's get Brownie Mary's interview," I said, ignoring his question. Brownie Mary was in good form. "I saw the kids nauseated; I saw them wasting away to nothing." The AIDS patients she visited on a daily basis were her "kids." "They should be able to have anything they want. Anything!" Todd stopped her. "Wait," he said. "The mic wasn't turned on." We filmed her again. "Turn on all your friends, your relatives, your grandmas and grandpas. Tell them that this war on marijuana is b-" This from the mouth of a 70-year-old woman. I quivered in every cell of my body, even as my head throbbed. Todd was tight-lipped. "That better be the last interview." "We still have Dennis," I said. Todd stamped his foot and made a faint hissing sound. Dennis grabbed his toy poodle, a little white fluffy dog in a red dog sweater. He sat the poodle on his lap and talked through the dog in a high-pitched voice. "I use marijuana for my arthritis." He made the dog's front paws move as he talked. I laughed. Todd scowled at me. "You can't use that," he said. "The Humane Society will be all over us." "Relax," I pleaded. "We're almost done." Driving back to Santa Cruz, 30 cars behind us now, my stomach started growling. The munchies. "Maybe that's why Todd is so crabby; he must be hungry, " I thought. "There's a taqueria down the road," I suggested. We pulled into the taqueria lot, got out and stretched. As we walked up to the window to order, Todd ripped the marijuana button off of his shirt and threw it down in the dirt. "I quit!" he shouted. Note: She set out to get footage of the leaders in the medical marijuana movement. She left with more than she bargained for. Suzanne Girot is a video artist based in Marin County. Source: San Francisco Chronicle (CA)Author: Suzanne GirotPublished: Sunday, March 11, 2001 Copyright: 2001 San Francisco Chronicle Page WB - 8 Address: 901 Mission St., San Francisco CA 94103Contact: letters sfchronicle.comWebsite: http://www.sfgate.com/chronicle/Forum: http://www.sfgate.com/conferences/Feedback: http://www.sfgate.com/select.feedback.htmlMarijuana.orghttp://www.marijuana.org/Brownie Mary Tributehttp://www.freedomtoexhale.com/browniemary.htmCannabisNews Articles - Brownie Maryhttp://cannabisnews.com/thcgi/search.pl?K=Brownie+Mary
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Comment #4 posted by kaptinemo on March 13, 2001 at 10:23:58 PT:
How long ago was this written?
Uh, friends, I think someone is yanking our chains; Brownie Mary is dead.http://homepages.go.com/~marthag1/browniemary.htmAnd as to the conduct of the so-called 'reporters'...they better not have quit their day jobs.
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Comment #3 posted by Dan B on March 12, 2001 at 09:10:49 PT:
This Reads More Like Fiction Than Fact
Does the author present any corroborating evidence? It sounds to me like it is simply a propaganda piece disguised as "investigative journalism." I've never had a headache from eating or smoking cannabis, and I wonder if anyone else here on Cannabis News has? In fact, the main reason I prefer cannabis to alcohol is that cannabis does not leave me with a headache.The fact is, this "reporter" was acting unprofessional. She was working, she was driving, and she was irresponsible to have been getting high while doing both (it's not like she was working for High Times or something). She makes it sound as though the medical marijuana patients were pushing cannabis on her--as though she would not know that a brownie given to her by "Brownie Mary" had cannabis in it. She knew what she was doing when she ate that brownie, and she did it anyway.Both of these "reporters" sound as though they have absolutely no self-control, yet they want to blame their own carelessness on "Brownie Mary." If this one incident caused "Todd" to quit the medical marijuana movement, that says a lot more about "Todd" than it does about the movement. "Todd" is weak-willed, as is his buddy "Suzanne." If they wanted to get a story, they should have left the weed until after they were finished. If they wanted to get high, they should have ditched the story. But like I said above, I really don't believe that this story is true. More like fiction packaged as reporting. And if it is true, and these folks did decide to get out of the medical marijuana movement, then good riddance. I don't want people like them representing the interests of the sick and dying.Dan B
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Comment #2 posted by CongressmanSuet on March 11, 2001 at 16:36:55 PT
"Brownie" Mary...
    " Please Lord, protect me from your followers" Absolutely beautiful....
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Comment #1 posted by J.R. Bob Dobbs on March 11, 2001 at 09:09:02 PT
Go Mary!!
>>Note: She set out to get footage of the leaders in the medical marijuana movement. She left with more than she bargained for.  Yeah, a brownie and some tacos. At least she didn't get the rest of her life ruined by some overzealous nark - yet - or she didn't take some legal medicine with deadly side effects... Of course, she shouldn't be driving while under the influence, but that's no reason to ban the brownie entirely, is it?
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