Pubdate: Wed, 29 Jan 2014
Source: New York Times (NY)
Copyright: 2014 The New York Times Company
Website: http://www.nytimes.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/298
Author: Maureen Dowd

DEALING WITH POT

DENVER - There's a lot of giggling in Colorado, and about Colorado,
these days.

Except by the state's leaders, who are like uneasy chaperones at a
rowdy school dance.

"It's insane," says Senator Michael Bennet.

"It's no fun," says Gov. John Hickenlooper, who admits he winces when
he hears late-night pot shots, like Jimmy Fallon's barb: "Stoners took
a moment to thank Governor Hickenlooper, then they spent a few hours
just saying the word 'Hickenlooper.' "

Sitting in an office filled with panoramic depictions of the West and
a New York license plate that belonged to family friend Kurt Vonnegut,
the governor, 61, notes: "No matter how big a failure the war on drugs
was, you don't want to be the butt of late-night jokes."

The lanky Jimmy Stewart look-alike, known as Hick, has warned
Coloradans that they shouldn't "break out the Cheetos or Goldfish too
quickly," given that pot is still illegal under federal law. But
unlike some other Colorado pols, the former microbrewery pub
entrepreneur has been leery about being drawn into any joshing about
Chronic Bud Bowl bets.

Both Bennet and Hickenlooper opposed the recreational pot referendum.
(One marijuana advocate denounced Hickenlooper years before for
balking, saying that a pub owner is a "drug dealer.") The pair of
Democrats, who ambled into politics late, seem as if they wandered out
of a Frank Capra movie; they have the sort of innocent, zany charm
that you rarely see in a profession that stamps out
spontaneity.

But how will the role of pioneer scouts in a spacey odyssey, leaders
in a state that suddenly has a more louche image, affect their
promising national ambitions?

"Luckily, I don't have serious national aspirations," Hickenlooper
says, "so that doesn't really become much of an issue."

He wouldn't want to be Hillary's vice presidential
pick?

"She wouldn't do it," he replies, "because by that time I'll be 64."
It has been rare to have a ticket with both people over 60, he said,
noting: "You have an older, wise person who's a leader and then you
have a young, spirited charismatic one."

That doesn't always work, I point out. Consider Sarah Palin and Dan
Quayle.

But look at Barack Obama and Joe Biden, the governor
replies.

"Great social experiments always have risk," says Hickenlooper, who,
amid floods, fires, droughts and shootings, finds the pot issue
bogarting his time. The state, subtly supported by the president and
attorney general, must conjure up a regulatory system, sort out legal
and banking complexities, and quickly try to head off deleterious effects.

"It's like opening a restaurant," the governor says. "Just because you
have three great weeks does not make it a successful
restaurant."

The infusion of young people into Colorado made the seismic shift
inevitable, he said, because they thought banning pot was "absurd."
Yet the big trend of the premiere month is the parade of giggling
grannies scarfing down pot-infused granola bars, candy and pastries.
Hickenlooper is bracing himself for the first traffic or workplace
fatality traced to pot, which is far more potent now and sometimes
spurs an acid-trippy effect, and he's working on an anti-pot-smoking
campaign directed at teenagers, who he says are at the most risk for
long-term memory deterioration.

Although some Colorado pols think the tax revenue should be higher,
Hickenlooper demurs that states shouldn't be dependent on revenues
from vices, like drugs or gambling or tobacco, "that inherently don't
make people happier or better."

State Representative Jared Wright, a Republican, warned on Fox News
that it was only a "matter of time" before violence ensues and,
spurred by a Web satire, sponsored legislation to stop people from
using their food stamps on pot.

"Marijuana, generally, doesn't make people confrontational or
combative, unlike alcohol," Hickenlooper objected.

Now that the rollout has been a success, the governor can once more
think about his re-election race. He and the writer Helen Thorpe had a
friendly separation in 2012 and are raising their 11-year-old, Teddy,
together. The governor's strategists have warned him that he might
need to be a monk.

"I really can't date," he says. "Political enemies would attack
whoever the person was for whatever reason unless it was just exactly
perfect."

Looking dubious, he ventured: "I might meet someone that's just
perfectly, you know, uh, normal, appropriate in every way." But, he
notes, it was hard enough the first time. "I was 49 when I got
married," he said. He broke off a couple of engagements and then went
on the Phil Donahue show (with a girlfriend, oddly enough) and
playfully offered a $5,000 reward to anyone who could help him find a
wife.

Isn't celibacy too much of a sacrifice to ask?

"I think it's terrible," Hickenlooper says with a grin. "But my
campaign team is not so shy."

The governor says he smoked pot in his 20s to feel more comfortable in
social settings, but that he hasn't done it "in decades."

"It makes you slow down and clumsy," he says. "I wouldn't do it even
if I was completely by myself in the forest or whatever."
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