Pubdate: Sun, 02 Nov 2014
Source: San Diego Union Tribune (CA)
Copyright: 2014 Union-Tribune Publishing Co.
Contact:  http://www.utsandiego.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/386
Note: Seldom prints LTEs from outside it's circulation area.
Author: Charles Lane
Note: Lane is a member of The Washington Post's editorial board.

EDIBLES PROVE PROBLEMATIC FOR COLORADO'S POT EXPERIMENT

DENVER - LoDo Wellness Center, which calls itself the largest 
marijuana dispensary in the trendy Lower Downtown ("LoDo") area, is a 
mellow place, decorated with Oriental rugs, sofas and statues of Buddha.

Yet there's a moment of mild tension when you arrive: Staff members 
politely insist on proof that you are either older than 21 and 
eligible to shop in the "retail" area or older than 18 with a 
doctor-approved "red card" for access to the private "medical" area. 
The latter is on the other side of a door marked "must remain locked 
at all times."

The atmosphere is part speak-easy, part pharmacy and - incongruously 
- - part candy store. At the retail counter, you'll find not just 
smokable dope but also myriad "edibles" infused with 
tetrahydrocannabinol (the main active ingredient in marijuana) that 
are outwardly indistinguishable from ordinary cookies, gummy worms 
and lemon drops.

LoDo epitomizes the quirks, contradictions and unanticipated 
consequences that characterize - or, some say, bedevil - Colorado's 
10-month-old experiment with legal marijuana.

There's been no surge in crime or drug abuse, nor is there a big 
movement to repeal the measure voters approved in 2012. Still, second 
thoughts are evident in everyday conversations here as well as recent 
polls. A USA Today survey this month found that roughly half of 
likely Colorado voters disapprove of legalization in hindsight and 
think the state has not done a good job regulating the burgeoning industry.

Edibles are the big issue. Coloradans have been astonished at the 
array of delicious THC delivery systems: candy, sodas, even, at LoDo, 
spiced peanuts soaked in marijuana oil. Edibles account for 45 
percent of the legal marijuana market, according to the Colorado 
Cannabis Chamber of Commerce. Given that Colorado adopted 
legalization on an adults-only basis, this doesn't sit well with a 
lot of parents.

The actual health risks, as opposed to the risk of underage usage, 
are unclear. Still, bad reactions to THC-laced treats have landed 
several children and adults in the emergency room and possibly led to 
two deaths. Consequently, the state tightened rules on labeling and 
dosage. Like other purveyors, LoDo now sells edibles in childproof 
containers. Yet standardization of packaging and THC dosage is, at 
best, a work in progress.

Legal pot in Colorado was supposed to be a major new source of tax 
revenue. Early returns are underwhelming. The state legislature's 
budget office originally forecast $67 million for the 2014-2015 
fiscal year; it subsequently marked that down to $47 million.

Optimistic projections assumed users of medical marijuana, legal in 
the state since 2000, would switch to recreational marijuana, to 
avoid the hassle and cost of seeing a doctor. Instead, the number of 
red cards has increased slightly because medical pot is far more 
lightly taxed, and hence roughly 40 percent cheaper, than 
recreational. For heavy users, that adds up. LoDo distributes 
advertisements for $55 red-card consultations at the Canna Health 
Clinic; "pay less in taxes," they urge.

In economic parlance, this is known as "regulatory arbitrage." The 
failure to have anticipated it makes the continuation of medical pot 
"the biggest challenge" for the new system, according to Sam Kamin, a 
professor at the University of Denver law school.

Meanwhile, millions in marijuana revenue may be refunded anyway, 
under Colorado's unique constitutional provision that requires the 
government to give back money when state revenue growth exceeds the 
rate of inflation plus population growth.

No one knows exactly what to do about that or many other issues that 
have cropped up - such as the persistence of the untaxed black market 
or how to measure the impairment of pot-using motorists.

Colorado could eliminate the medical-recreational distinction. If the 
latter is available, why keep the former? But then people would have 
to admit that the vast majority of "medical" usage is, and always 
was, recreational. The likes of Canna Health Clinic would be put out 
of business, too.

As for edibles, the state public health department recently told a 
state pot advisory panel to ban them, except for lozenges and oils, 
noting a "definite risk to children." The cannabis industry quickly 
shot that idea down; it appears pot growers and retailers have 
already achieved a measure of "regulatory capture."

The industry's alternative is clearer labeling. That could backfire, 
too. "A stamp would just help [kids] find it," LoDo employee Liza 
Baker told me, citing conversations with middle school teachers she knows.

None of this proves Colorado's brave new world is worse than the 
status quo ante; there were high costs to pot prohibition, too. Every 
regulatory dilemma for legal pot is analogous to those facing 
alcoholic beverages or cigarettes.

Still, what's impressive - and, for other states, instructive - about 
this libertarian project is that it hinges on well-informed, 
impartial government regulation, free of undue special-interest 
influence, about which libertarians are ordinarily and properly skeptical.

Colorado may yet achieve that. For now, though, the system still 
seems a little half-baked.
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom