The coolest thing about Christmas is all the other holidays packed into the calendar around about the same time we celebrate the hoax of the virgin birth of a crazy motherfucker way back. Everybody likes to get loaded towards the end of December. That is what the people want. They may not get much else they want this Christmas but they will have a party.
Back before I smoked my first joint, Steve-O, one of my boyhood pals, told me he smoked a joint before his family even began opening up their presents on Christmas morning. He was about eight at the time. I asked Steve-O, "A couple of beers isn't doing it for you any more, eh?"
"Fuck no," he responded confidently. "A few of my old man's Black Labels taste pretty good by the time lunch time rolls around but for the tree and the presents dope is the only way to go. Don't knock it 'til you tried it Beer."
When I was eight a sip of my dad's whiskied coffee added enough sparkle to the tree but Steve-O sounded pretty sure of himself so I made a note to myself to try and score a little hash for my ninth Christmas. Pot was not much good in those days; you had to score some hash if you wanted some effects.
Steve-O could not have been more right. A little hash smoked by an open bedroom window with my brother on Christmas morning made Christmas morning seem like a movie. My mom even liked it. After assessing the look on everybody's faces as we were about done opening up our presents, she said, "This is the best Christmas ever!" It was the best Christmas ever. I got a new hockey stick, like I got every year, and a Bobby Orr hockey set to replace the decades old one passed down to us from an older cousin. And I found out the only thing better than Christmas is Christmas with marijuana.