Potus called the next city. “Wichita Falls, Kansas, my home state. How are you?”
Wichita Falls appeared onscreen as a middle-aged man in a blue suit. He said, “Good evening Mr. President. I’m glad that the previous caller asked about medicinal marijuana. I have proposed a business plan around raising a new line of cattle that are fed on cannabis. Inside the feeding troughs we also plan to build THC vaporisers for the cows to breathe. As they eat and munch on their hay, they will be extremely relaxed and hungry. The meat will be so tender that you could eat it with a plastic spoon, like beef tartare.”
Potus interupted. “Wait a minute. You’ve got high cows eating hay munchies and laying around stoned? What about the meat? Won’t the consumers get high?”
Wichita Falls remained unfazed. He said, “Well, sir, those claims haven’t been reviewed by the FDA. We haven’t actually measured any THC content in the meat. Although, if it did, the product would be self-perpetuating. If you eat the meat, say in burger form, you’d get the munchies and eat more. It could also help with a wide variety of diseases and symptoms that are indicated as benefiting from medical marijuana. It would also be completely legal except for the growing of cannabis itself. So I’d like to get the beef industry to back growing feed marijuana. We’d trademark it under the brand name ‘Cannibeef’ with a service mark ‘Mellow cows make great steaks’.”
Potus frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “Sounds like some back-door legalisation. I don’t support that at all.”
