Brewer even has a 2018 album, After the Storm, that fans can order with a $23 from Michael Brewer, PO Box 150, Powersite, MO 65731. It is truly must-see TV! Sweet Jesus! Gail Farrell & Dick Dale perform “One Toke Over The Line” on The Lawrence Welk Show in 1971.Īs if to advertise that some of what we were told about THC wasn’t true, both Brewer and Shipley are alive and still performing both together and apart. Did Lawrence Welk play one toke over the line? If you listen to the lyrics of that song, ‘one toke’ was just a metaphor.
Tom Shipley explained: “When we wrote ‘One Toke Over the Line,’ I think we were one toke over the line. One toke over the line, sweet Jesus, indeed.What does one toke over the line mean in the song?Ī “Toke” is a puff from a marijuana cigarette or pipe. Remembering only the vague buzz from the marijuana of the ‘70s, I recently inhaled an entire modern-day joint without stopping, blissfully ignoring the fact that the THC content had perhaps strengthened considerably during the decades following the Great Remembrance Day Bust. My only concern is the ability to measure impairment. While there is a mischievous irony in this, there is also no turning back, especially now that legal pot growers are already seeing significant dollar signs dancing in their heads
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has already announced his intent to legalize marijuana, of course, and has given the task to Toronto MP Bill Blair, the former Toronto police chief who once oversaw the squad of drug cops who liked nothing more than busting down doors to haul out bad guys. The other day, Conservative MP Kellie Leitch, a medical doctor who has already declared her intent to seek the leadership of her party, said if ever elected prime minister she would repeal any legislation that would unleash Reefer Madness 2.0 on unsuspecting Canadian youth. Today I have a nephew who has a medical marijuana certificate, and who works in one of the many still-illegal pot dispensaries throughout Toronto that the cops now ignore. Me? I got my charges dropped early in the game because I was the only one who refused to ‘fess up. It took him years, and thousands of dollars in lawyers’ fees, to get the Crown to finally drop the trafficking charge to one of simple possession, and send him on his way with a rather significant fine. My co-accused, who kept his pot proceeds in an antique cash register, had more than a pound of weed in his room, all nicely arranged in nickel and dime bags, and this was considered a big-time amount. The demon weed, considered a scourge back in the late Sixties and early ‘70s, had various courts handing out what were strictly enforced minimum seven-year sentences for high-level trafficking and/or importing. One of my co-accused, however, was making a tidy profit at the time by dealing pot at our Ryerson campus, and so he was therefore charged with the criminal offence of possession for the purposes of trafficking. The cops wrongly thought they were busting a speed lab. If Arlo Guthrie had been there, he’d have written a song. That, and a pair of jeans and sneakers, would be how I was attired when arraigned later that morning for possession of marijuana, along with the other three students who communally shared that old rooming house.īut that was after spending the night’s remainder in “the pit” at 52 Division, and then being driven in a paddy wagon to be fingerprinted and mug shot at police HQ before being jammed into a communal cell to await bail court. I was making Kraft dinner, and was standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but undershorts and a Fly United T-shirt depicting two ducks copulating in mid-flight. I was still in college, and had just returned from my part-time job on the sports desk at Canadian Press. The Great Remembrance Day Bust, as it became known in peer folklore, began with two long-haired gun-wielding undercover Toronto drug cops busting down the door and charging up the stairs, followed by six uniformed officers.
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