When Marc Emery was just a twinkle in his daddy's eye, there was already a Prince of Pot. His name was Wally Tucker.
My buddy Kipling is a relative of Wally, much as I am a relative of Captain von Trapp. And while I'm fairly tight with Kipling, I have to say he's never invited me to a family do where the Tuckmeister is in attendance. He's never actually invited me to anything, come to think of it.
In the event, Walter Tucker started a religion. He started it just around the time he was going to court for his first possession offence. The "Church of the Universe". Even if you never heard of it, you're a member, at least if you live in this universe. He did a nice job scoping out his territory. Get's in front of Hammered Hank down in Guelph, and pulls out this achingly compelling yarn about how he is a minister at the Church of the Universe, where the sacrament just happens to be the weed 'o wisdom, and he's being persecuted for his religious beliefs.
You have to admit, not even Marc Emery could top that one.
Hangin' Hank pondered the merits of Wally's defence for about ten seconds, then gave him the same sentence he gave every pot peddler who appeared in front of him. Five years of free room and board at Millhaven. Not what Wally had in mind.
So Wally circles the religious freedom wagons and gets the funding from wherever to take his case all the way to the supreme court. Long story short, at least it delayed his Millhaven vacation for about 15 years. The wheels of justice do turn really really slow up here in the Great White North.
We've come a long way in our attitude to the weed since the seventies. There have been many champions along the way. Marc Emery is certainly one of them. But the next time you twist one up, remember Wally Tucker.
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