#Weed is illegal in Texas

[silverthelovebug]

Brooklyn and Ben definitely convinced Yaz to start smoking with them. Brooklyn pulls Yaz aside and is like “Bro. I think you would benefit from a bit of weed”. and Yaz is mad sus. she couldn't smoke in hs bc of track and just never got into it. but Brooklyn has her hit a joint and Yaz is like “Wow… I love… not being anxious for like five seconds ….”

(Sammy does the minimum dosage on edibles)

[daughter-heir]

not to be dramatic but I have to go to texas for christmas to see extended family that I am not close to like I can genuinely imagine nothing worse. traveling in an airport during the holidays to go to fucking Texas?? kill me

[hearteyedbunny]

what if thatcher starts smoking weed a few months after meeting Abner. because they have connections and also he needs fucking Something especially if he isn't medicated at all

[butchreyes]

There used to be a blog dedicated to the ship Nanteo a few years ago like their blog name was Nanteo and they used to answer those head canon questions like “Who’s the big spoon and who’s the little spoon” and they were always amazing but they disappeared and their blog no longer shows up and I miss them tbh lol. Nobody has mentioned them since tho

not me being born in the wrong generation... but also asking whether nancy or mateo is the little spoon is like asking who hits the blunt and who receives the shotgun... it's about equality <3

[splatter-n-splurge]

So the t4t sex that my boyfriend and I had on the train going to Chicago was illegal sex?

I have a personal question …. It’s for a fanfic (me when I lie)… if you have a private room on amtrak what’s the legality of straight up jorking it?

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 2

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner! Javier Peña)

Word count: 1,736

Summary: After reflecting on the ups and (mostly) downs of your relationship with Javier, you make a decision about your future.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for allusions to smut. Mention of selling drugs (Javi). Mentions of past infidelities (Javi again). Mention of illegal activities going on in Javi's club. Threats towards Javier. Basically Javier Pena is a walking red flag but reader was in love.

Author's note: this is basically just backstory on how reader and Javi got together. Dave makes an appearance at the end. Also, big love to everyone who's taken the time to read/reblog, or leave a nice little comment. 💜

Series Masterlist

I told you so.

That's the phrase booming through every thought in your brain as you try to come to terms with Javi's infidelity.

And it wasn't even the first time. You could kick yourself for being so trusting and so blind.

From the moment you'd met Javier Pena, who sold drugs to your friends behind the football field bleachers during your senior year of high school, you'd fallen for his bad boy persona. Motorcycle, leather jacket, aviators, cigarette resting between pouty lips, perfectly groomed mustache. He looked like the saxophone solo from "Careless Whisper".

He'd graduated six years ahead of you, and still came around campus, a legend in his own mind. That should have been your first red flag.

But out of all the girls who flirted with him, you were the one he wanted.

He'd whisked you away on his motorcycle, bringing you home so late that your parents forbade you from seeing him. But nothing could stop true love, that's what you had with him. Javier saw you, made you feel seen. He listened to you, big brown eyes studying your every feature, compelling you to kiss him, to do things you ordinarily wouldn't have.

You were engaged right after you graduated, much to the consternation of your family. But when your engagement seemed to go on and on without an actual wedding date in sight, you had your doubts that he really wanted to marry you.

After giving him an ultimatum which led to Javi telling you he wanted to wait another few years to actually tie the knot, you'd separated from him, giving back his ring, crying yourself to sleep as your mom or your sister would make their best attempts at soothing you. Seeing him with other girls - a different one riding behind him on his motorcycle each time - during those separations only further broke your heart. You found out you weren't so special after all.

But he always came back, always smooth talked his way to your too-good heart. And you let him back in, grateful for his kisses again, grateful for the way his body molded to yours, the splay of his hands across your hips as he bent you over and fucked his way back into your life.

The wedding, when it finally happened, went by in such a blur-- the two of you at the county courthouse, Javi in his best suit, bolo tie and new shiny boots, you in a simple lacy white dress you'd found at a consignment store, tailored to your measurements, and flowers in your hair. Javi had whjisked you away right after the ceremony, unceremoniously fucking you in the backseat of your car.

You'd always wanted kids, your maternal instinct going haywire any time any of your friends announced they were pregnant. You'd run your fingers longingly along the wooden cribs and quilted blankets on display at Target. It felt like the end of the world when Javi admitted he couldn't give you any children. His 'family visit to South Texas' just a couple months after your marriage was actually him recuperating after his vasectomy. You'd nearly left him then, deeply hurt by his secrecy and betrayal, but considered that you could make him change his mind one day, and he'd have it reversed.

A married man, he wanted to rely on steady income to support you besides selling weed and adderall to high schoolers. One thing he was good at was showing people a good time. He had his heart set on opening a strip club, but when you vehemently refused to stay married to him if he did just that, he set his sights on the next best thing and bought out an old roller rink with the help of his lifelong buddy Steve Murphy and renovated it into a nightclub.

His purchase of the club drained any savings you'd amassed in the first few years of your marriage, and you only saw a return on the investment once he'd promoted every night, made deals with shady people, allowed a few illegal gambling, drug, and prostitution outfits to operate within the walls of his new sanctuary. You looked the other way, only able to stomach the idea of being okay with it when Javi offered to buy you your own small business.

All your life you loved two things: baking and literature. Fresh croissants over the latest Janet Evanovich, homemade chocolates and The Great Gatsby. Ever the businessman, Javi talked you into creating your own business, gifting you the seed money to open Fiction & Frosting more expeditiously than you were comfortable with, mainly because you knew just where the funds for your business were coming from.

Planning and decorating had been the fun part to get you away from that thinking. You made the place your own, with your stylistic touches and smooth melodies to play over the ambience. You handpicked the titles that went into your store, including New York Times bestsellers along with lesser known authors and self-published works. Meet and greets were held, helping to gain traction when well-known authors were brought in to do press for their latest releases and for up and coming writers to display their own works.

You were proud of your own business, and eventually made enough money to pay Javier back for his investment. But even though your conscience was clean, your problems weren't necessarily over.

With Javi at the club most nights, you were lonely. It would be near dawn when he'd come home, stinking of cigarettes and alcohol, and, occasionally, another woman's perfume. And still he'd curl up next to you, kissing your neck as if nothing was wrong, spooning you so you could feel his bulging erection through your pajamas.

You'd stayed away, hoping to keep separate the Javi you loved and the Javi you knew had a business to maintain. But one night in particular your curiosity got the best of you and you found yourself driving to the club close to closing time.

The interior, tacky red and orange lighting that gave you the feeling of entering Hell, glowed with an intimidating glare as you looked around for your husband. Music blared from the DJ booth. The bartender on duty gave you vague answers as to Javi's whereabouts, but Steve was there, nursing a glass of Stoli. He coolly informed you Javi was in his office, and you chose to ignore the wry little smile on his face.

The closer you got to his office in the back, the more muffled the music got. But that only served to make louder the pounding of your heart, booming in your ears.

Seeing him at his desk with a woman on her knees, bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically was not what you expected to find. You immediately ran away, tears streaming down your face as you went out the back alley, slumped against the wall, defeated and heartbroken. When Javi found you, apologizing and telling you she didn't mean anything to him, you pushed him away, cursed him, wanted to kill him.

But Javi was Javi, and despite the way he broke your heart so many times, you couldn't make yourself stop loving him. And so you made the choice to believe him, to hug him, to keep from leaving him.

You think about that night now that you're actually leaving him.

Like a bird with a broken wing you go straight to your parents' house, and they invite you in without a second thought, holding in their own 'I told you so's' until you repudiate Javier yourself, recounting every time he 'interviewed' for bottle girls, groped a waitress, or lied about any little thing. You shine the light on his villainy, and in your hurt and angst, it feels good. You leave out the parts about the illegal activities.. it's already too much to tell them of his more hurtful iniquities.

"He never deserved you, sweetheart, I knew it from the beginning," your father says to comfort you.

"He made a pass at me last Thanksgiving," your younger sister says.

"He made a pass at me on Mother's Day," your mom says.

You shake your head, hating everything that you're hearing. But you force yourself to face the facts you've been avoiding for so long.

Your dad and brother go with you to get your things, providing a buffer between you and Javier, who's begging you to come back. He looks bedraggled, unshaven and unkempt, so unlike the put-together man you've come to know. You don't have the heart to meet his eyes, only gaining some satisfaction when your brother shields you from him while your dad helps carry your stuff out to his truck. It's the only bright spot in your day when they threaten to beat the ever-loving shit out of him if he dares to come near you again. You've never seen Javier scared until that moment.

You're so strong, your family commends you as you as you find a small place to rent, making your split official.

Your first night alone, after your sister has left and you're tidying up, putting away the washed wine glasses, you remember Dave.

In all the hubbub of the messy end of your marriage, you think of the divorce attorney, and you grab his card from your purse.

David L. York, Divorce & Family Law

The next morning you call and are put through to his direct line. Hearing his voice over the phone, so professional and yet warm, brings you back to that day you met him, and you feel a sensation of butterflies in your stomach.

"It's me," you give him your name and he remembers you immediately, bringing a smile to your face for the first time in days.

"I've been by a few times for coffee but I haven't seen you there," he says with some concern, and the butterflies multiply when you realize he'd actually sought you out.

"I've been busy," you make a lame excuse. "And not feeling very well."

"Oh," he replies. "Which is it? Busy or not feeling well?" he teases.

"Considering what I'm about to tell you.. both."

"What's going on? What can I do for you?" he asks, as if he'd do anything at all you ask.

"Oh, I heard you handle divorces. And I'd like to hire you to do mine."

dividers by @strangergraphics & @saradika-graphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @eviispunk @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal

@sunnytuliptime @mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk

@almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647

@milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

[warnersister]

Chapter 1 - The Return to Miramar

The Highwayman Series | Prologue | Chapter 2

‘No Entry – Construction (TRANSATLANTIC RAILWAY DUE TO FINISH 1869)’ the sign read and the frontman on his horse creased his brows into a tight and questioning line. “1869? But its 1863.” He said, voice in a questioning tone. “haven’t you heard?” his companion asked “east and west are racing to see who can build the most. Gonna be shut a while” he said matter of factly, while straightening out his mustache from where the Tennessee heat had frazzled it. The former grunted in response “this is our way though” “well were gonna have to go a different way hangman, don’t fancy getting Spitfire killed by a train” the other told him, motioning to the fine mare he was riding on. He nodded “yeah hornets too young for that, rooster you’re right. You know a different way?” hangman asked. Rooster thought for a minute, straightening out his mustache again, already bunching up under the springtime humidity – but this time, more in thought than in maintenance as he turned to look at his surroundings “already crossed Mississippi” he said, remembering when they’d crossed the mighty river – not wishing to back track on that path. “were gonna have to go the whole way round, through missouri – Kansas, take a left at colorado” “could we not go trough Texas?” Hangman asked, thinking of a shorter route they used to traverse a decade prior. Rooster raised his brows “aint Sherrif Simpson still after us?” he asked and his friend shrugged. “Already told the rest of ‘em to meet us in Louisiana and it’ll take weeks, months to get there if not, were good as dead if the Indians aint as hospitable again” there was silence for a minute “plus you’ve got a stache now and I’ve got this sweet bod, he wont recognise us” Hangman said, flexing while Rooster threw his head back and laughed loudly “bod ain’t as good as mine, bagman” Rooster said and the other shook his head “c’mon. Texas it is."

This route was fresh, recognisable but still; new-(ish). There were plenty of structures that were erected since they’d last abided there, especially in the Plains – a substantially belittled number of natives and much more Easterns who you could tell had no business being in Western heat – searching for green grass but getting tumble weeds in lieu. They’d reached their meeting point but a week later, reconsiliating with Coyote and Bob who’d been engaging in business up in the rockies, taking the strongest horses but only returning with one. “Hercules?” Hangman asked and bob shook his head “struggled all the way up, slipped, poor boy couldn’t handle it. Was cryin’ in the night he was. Had’a put him out o’ his misery” the four all bowed their heads and shook them in remembrance for their fallen companion. “damn” rooster said. “Well there's no way the two of ya can manage all the way to New Mexico on Chinook, let alone California” Hangman said. “we passed a ranch on the way down here in northern Texas, town called Miramar” Bob told him as Rooster and Hangman shared a look. “Ain’t that where we nearly got hung?” Rooster asked “sure is Brad.” Hangman thought for a moment “Good mares?” Hangman asked “the best” coyote said “young lady an’all. Mighty fine on the eyes” “guess we’re heading up North.”

The ride was slightly awkward with Coyote and Bob both on one horse, they changed primary rider every hundred or so miles – and it made it easier to travel at night, but still; a man wanted his own horse and Coyote was proud of Chinook, but the horse was starting to weary with some three hundred pounds on his back. But eventually they saw the sign. White lettering and red background, carved so deeply into old mahogany and almost illegible, but it was undeniably so: Miramar. So close you could almost make out Oklahoma, but far enough away and enough Stetsons present to recognise the contrast between what was and what wasn’t Texan territory. “where’s this ranch of yours, Bob?” Jake asked, swallowing harshly as he eyed the infamous town over his sunglasses; Bob pointed straight ahead, and adjacent to the Sheriff’s office, was an unassuming parlour attacked to a decently sized acreage of farm, a good seven or eight horses feeding off their dinner. “alright. Let’s get in and get out.” Jake said, instructing his horse to move forward as he did so. “you guys got history here or something?” Javy asked and rooster snorted “yeah something like that” “what happened?” Bob asked “lets just say he had a thing for the Sherrif’s daughter and he organised to hang him if he didn’t get out of town.” Rooster explained, recalling the events from what seemed like yesterday. Jake cleared his way as a way to get the lot of them to shut up. He still had the ring he was going to give her in his breast pocket.

They drew a lot of attention as they rode through town – strangers clearly dressed in travelling attire. But they were the Highwaymen, not pilgrims. Coyote hopped off the back of Chinook and Bob followed suit, heading to the girl who had their back turned to them, currently attending to a young pony who seemed to refuse to leave the refuge of her stables. “Excuse me, ma’am – any of these horses for sale?” “Uh huh the lot of ‘em” she’d replied, turning to the strangers to greet them as customers. Jake felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “jake?” “hey, petal” he replied, unable to muster anything else as he looked at you, still as mighty fine if not more gorgeous than he day he’d hit the road with rooster. You looked to his left and nodded “Brad” “hey pretty” after the short and unsweetened reunion. “Y’all should get off my ranch. My daddy still has a right mind lynchin’ the two of ya” you say smally, turning to reattend to the horse. “Still?” Rooster asked with a smirk but Jake was taking it more seriously as you nodded your head to the stocks “meaner than the day you left” “sweetheart-“ “I aint talkin to you, Jake” you say and look at your feet “look, my horse passed in the rockies; was hopin’ I could but a new ‘un to get us to California. Got any up for the job?” Bob asked and you looked at him. “Uh, we got a few. Albatros is gorgeous and strong, but I don’t think she’ll last ‘till Cali.” You place your hands on your hips, surverying the pack “Falcon, he’ll get you there but no further.” You say “that there” you point at the strong, pale coloured horse in the back of the field “Lightning. God he can ride, got the strength of Zeus. He’ll get you there, hell he’ll get you through Mexico and back. But he’s my favourite, he’s gonna cost ya” Jake smiled “God he was just a young’un a few years back. My, he's grown” he says, recalling the day he’d gifted you the horse. He’d saved up all his money, didn’t even steal him, brought him all the way from New Mexico. Didn’t even ride him, he walked on foot – made sure the mare had his breaks and god your smile when you accepted him. His hair matched Jakes, so he’d always be there when he wasn’t. “You’re willing to sell him? After all this time?” you finally look at him, pain apparent in your eyes “you left, Seresin” that hurt “you bought him as a reminder. Don’t need no reminder of you, boy” you say “well ‘m here now-“ “exactly.” You cut him off and there is a silence.

“How much for Lightning?” Bob asked after a while. “Make me an offer.”

Prologue | Chapter 2

[rainwaterapothecary]

Into The Sunset

#serennedyprideweek prompt 3 - Cowboys

June 188X - Texas, USA

Bluestem grasses danced here and there with the breeze as Luis Serra propped one foot up on the wooden fence.

“Ey Sancho, the cows will be eating your hat next.” The Spaniard chuckled, bringing a gloved hand up to hold his own hat atop his curls. The buttero at his feet snorted and made a sweeping gesture at the pastures in the distance.

“What, Signore Quixote, tired of fighting off the herbivores already? You’re getting slow!”

Luis silently babbled ‘getting slow’ in mockery; the blue glint of Leo’s eye missed amongst the weeds. The hat in question thwacked the cheeky Spaniard’s shin with all the force of a lazy ex-farmhand. Luis kicked back, nearly toppling off the fence when he forgot he was only hanging on with one hand.

(His left side just wasn’t the same after the bit of trouble they got into two winters ago with a member of Leonardo’s old band. Luis was a lot of illegal things, but a kidnapper would never be one of ‘em. Ol’ Johnny took offense to the two partners running into his plans with nothing but their horses and a prayer.)

“Careful Bellissimo, or you’ll be the one to puncture my poor hat with those spurs.”

Luis stepped out of the work glove his lover had caught his foot with, shaking his head and chuckling at the immediate save. Leo then tilted his hat out of his eyes with his thumb, broken-bottle blue catching the light prettier than the gold the fools out west dug in the mud for.

No, Luis didn’t need gold or metal or jewels, all he needed was work for his hands, a fire for the cold nights, and his Sancho smiling up at him.

In the distance, the echoing cry of the cattle started up in their evening saludos to the sun. Grass rustled as the lounging man got to his feet, dusting off his chaps in useless swipes. Gray eyes tracked the effort gratefully, his buttero’s rear end always delighting him in its weather-beaten denim.

“See somethin’ you like, Don?”

Luis stuck out his tongue at the smirking man, leaning over the splintering beam dividing them to catch his partner’s sun-sweet lips. He felt the other man smiling into his mouth as sturdy hands caught his hips, the flannel giving into his sides beneath his lover’s leather gloves. His own work gloves left smears of dust on high cheekbones as he let Leo keep him upright, safe from both gravity and splinters by the other’s gentle hands. Hands made rough from rope and gentle with love caressed the shorter man’s cheeks and eyelids, tracing over each feature the good lord saw fit to gift them. Lips chapped from biting and sunlight opened to admit Luis’ kisses, Leo’s breath tasting of the peach moonshine they traded for over past Raccoon’s Rest.

It was always bittersweet to return to the town they’d met in. The trading post was second to none when it came to gettin’ goods from along the river, but it was hardly the place for a lonely Italian immigrant to make a home with a vaquero with mischief in his eyes and secrets in his mouth.

They checked in once a year or so, between drives if it took them through the Pass. Moonshine from Miss Hunnigan’s Roost made for a delicacy that almost made up for the hateful stares of the church folk when the tired cowpokes made their way into town for a rest and a drink.

Luis would trade those fine beds and soft quilts in a heartbeat for this right here though: his man happy and whole and in his arms, kissin’ him like the fields were their sanctuary and the cows their witnesses.

Joy bubbled up past the Spaniard’s lips in a broad laugh, catching Leo by surprise and making him laugh in turn.

“What’s gotten into you, Luis?” Oh his name was so sweet on his farmboy’s breath. The man on the fence merely shook his curly head, smiling down at the man between his palms.

“Just happy, mi amor. So happy.”

”I can’t give you wine or nice silks like the ladies at the Roost, but I can give you a safe place to rest at night and warm hands if you want ‘em.” The shorter man had whispered to where his hands gripped the brim of his hat, his head bowed meekly.

The Spaniard had been bowled over by what the ranch hand in front of him was offering.

“I…you…?” He had replied intelligently.

Leo’s silk-straw hair bobbed as he nodded, his head still bowed. "I could make you happy, if y'like."

Luis had laughed then too, gathering his farmboy to his chest and kissing him among the horses in the barn. Whiffs of fresh hay and the perfume of oats wove through Leo's hair with Luis’ fingers, holding him closer and closer until they were just one wanderer in two bodies, blind to the animals with eyes open to each other for the first time.

Leo smiled at him with the boyish grin Luis wasn’t quite sure he’d ever grow out of – and he certainly would never be bothered if he didn’t.

“Come on, let’s get the herd to bed.”

“And then us?” Luis tried, cheekily. Leo rolled his smiling eyes.

“Sì, amore. Then us.”

The taller man yelped as his lover picked him up, lifting him over the fence in one move and carrying him away with one leg on either side of his torso.

It might not be a horse, but he wasn't going to complain about being carried into the sunset with the man he loves.

...Dignity be damned.

_*_*_

A/N Did some research on vaqueros which then led to traditional Italian cowherders? Leo(n) and Luis bicker about this after it happens just to bicker. Leo says his people won, Luis secretly agrees but he has to be contrary.

Anyway, Luis immigrated to the US as a kid and Leo came over shortly before they met. He had gotten a farmhand job to earn his keep until a certain cowboy came into town, looked at him down the bar, and asked him to dance beneath the stars where nobody could judge a man and his sweetheart.

Luis keeps a copy of Don Quixote in his saddlebags beside a little notebook he uses to sketch in. (Yes I read Eric's hc that he sketches yes it has given me brainrot.)

Everything'll be crossposted on my ao3 at the end of prideweek, mwah!

[marsixm]

god why is weed still illegal in texas. thats like all there even is to do around here

[transmisogynistic]

I thought weed was illegal in Texas… why did I see a dispensary

[ceekbee]

OK, HELLO WORLD...

For most of my adult life, I worked as a journalist in this country and credibly, factually, told the public thousands of stories at the Detroit News, New York Daily News and as head writer for a TV show on ESPN. None of the stories I have ever written is more important than the one I am writing now.

If you will indulge me a lack of brevity this one time, I will explain.

It begins with the three times I realized that the safety and security we so prize here in the United States of America is an illusion. It's not and never was true. It doesn't exist. We only believed it did.

The first time I realized it was in the aftermath of 9/11. After I witnessed the World Trade Center towers crumble before my eyes little more than a mile from my New York City apartment, authorities posted police with automatic weapons and huge American flags at the entrance to every bridge and tunnel in the city.

We felt safe seeing those images, but each time I ventured through those tunnels and over those bridges, I had a question:

"What's stopping that truck in front of me from being laden down with fertilizer and explosives? Who knows what's in the trunk of every car in front and back of me?"

We weren't safe at all. Terrorists just didn't decide to blow us all to hell.

The second time I realized there is no such thing as safety and security came when Donald Trump promised building a wall at the Southern border to keep illegals out.

I thought, "Mexicans are renowned for building tunnels from Mexico directly to homes on the U.S. side in Texas and California to smuggle in people and drugs. How can a wall prevent that?"

A wall could not make us safe at all. We only believed it could.

The third time I realized safety and security is an illusion was on January 6th, 2021, when Donald Trump's MAGA supporters overran the United States Capitol - the seat of power of the US government - injuring law enforcement officers and defacing the offices of cowering, terrified duly elected lawmakers.

The ease with which they penetrated our most sacred symbols of the rule of law and order in America showed me that if this could be done by only a few thousand mostly-unarmed citizens, there really is no such thing as safety and security in this country.

We only believed there was.

The final time I realized there is no safety and security in the United States of America has come in the last three weeks, or rather, since Donald Trump returned to The White House.

Under the guise of weeding out corruption and with South African-born Elon Musk as the tip of the spear, Donald Trump and his Republican confederates have turned every facet of American government upside down, installed inexperienced and unqualified loyalists in positions of power in every sector of government and thrown thousands of hard-working Americans - many of whom voted for him - out into the streets.

While stunned, outnumbered Democrats were frozen to inaction, Trump, through executive order, made laws, changed laws and ignored orders from courts to stop in his tracks.

While those of us who opposed him screamed that his actions and those of Elon Musk were tantamount to creating a fascist government and a dictatorship, we were only partially right.

See, people, Trump's dictatorship has already begun. It is HERE. It is NOW.

For those who don't believe this is true, what we all missed while focusing on the flood of executive orders and bizarre musings of taking over the Gaza Strip, annexing Canada as the 51st state against their will, purchasing Greenland to rename it Red, White and Blueland and taking over the Panama Canal is this:

Trump was merely testing the waters to see how much power and authority he truly had. The final step in his plan will be to ignore any and all court challenges aimed at stopping him.

What should be clear to you now is that there was really only one barrier to Donald Trump taking over this country and remaking it in his image:

The fact that the only thing that has kept our democracy in place since it was written in 1787 is a piece of paper called the U.S. constitution.

That constitution only works if our politicians RESPECT the power within, the rule of law.

Donald Trump clearly does not respect the constitution as have all other United States presidents before him.

Worse, without respect for the constitution and our laws, THERE IS NO AUTHORITY LEFT TO STOP HIM.

There is no police force who can reign Trump in.

There is no military to reign Trump in.

There are no lawmakers or judges to reign Trump in.

And soon, as Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayer declared recently during a speech at Miami Dade College, Donald Trump will refuse to comply with all orders of the court - and his takeover will be complete - for there is no authority remaining to police him.

Like Sotomayer, the American Bar Association just released a statement declaring that, “Trump is not following the rule of law.”

Now, the reason why the ABA sounds like a kid screaming, “Charlie hit me!” is because they’ve reached the conclusion that there is nothing they can do about Trump not following the rule of law. This has never happened before in the history of this country, but it IS happening now.

Hey, America, hey World, you can call it a monarchy, or fascism or a totalitarian government or a dictatorship, but whatever you call it, Donald Trump and Elon Musk are the law of the land now.

Don't believe me?

The 1,500 January 6th rioters who were tried and convicted in federal courts?

Trump freed them. On Day 1.

New York City Mayor Eric Adams, who was brought up on corruption charges after a decade-long investigation?

He cozied up to Trump, who order his Department of Justice to drop the charges.

If that's not enough, I think Donald Trump has one more trick up his sleeve, as I predict he is being lobbied at this very moment to grant clemency to an old friend who has been accused of pedophilia, drugging and raping male and female victims, physically assaulting others and possibly sanctioning numerous murders over the past 30 years.

So what, pray tell, will you say when Donald Trump pardons Sean Diddy Combs?

The lyrics to that song you sang in grade school has changed, folks:

This land is NOT your land.

This land is NOT my land.

NOT from California.

NOT to the New York Islands.

NOT from the Redwood Forest

NOR to the Gulf of America waters

This land belongs to Trump and E.

In less than a month back in office, all of the checks and balances have been removed. Republicans control the house and the senate. Every cabinet pick Trump proposes will be confirmed. No decision he makes, whether it's instructing the Treasury Department to stop making the penny or bringing back the plastic straw, is being denied.

While his supporters cheer his every move, they have yet to see the cost cuts Elon Musk and his team of hackers make under cover of darkness are hurting American farmers, American workers and those in the poorest red states in the country who voted for him.

For them, and us, it's already too late to realize it's too late.

If you saw Musk recently in the oval office with his young son holding court while Trump sat idly by, you should have realized the richest man in the world controls the supposed most powerful man in the world.

Only Elon Musk is holding Elon Musk accountable and Trump - who is likely paying Musk back for whatever he did to help him take the 2024 election - is allowing it to happen.

As you read these words, it is likely that Elon Musk has already had his hackers place back doors into every major computer system across the US government, which gives him the power to shut down any program he chooses at any time on an app while sitting in the driver's seat of his Tesla.

For those in the back or in the nosebleed section or under a rock, let me say it again:

Elon Musk and Donald Trump are the law of the land. Today. Right now.

The United States of America is no longer a democracy. We are now a dictatorship.

In closing, let me say that I don't believe in presenting problems without offering solutions. There IS something we can do to fight this takeover and resist this bloodless coup that has stripped away the sense of freedom we have known all of our lives - but it will require of us a resolve and action most of us have never known or shown.

It will require us to unite, fight, stand up, risk our lives and our liberty - because one thing dictators have never fully understood is that THE PEOPLE truly are the power.

Think of it this way: if we don't want the price of an automobile in America to be $50,000, well, if nobody buys those cars, there won't be a $50,000 car in America.

With that in mind, should Elon Musk and Donald Trump try to dump hundreds of thousands of federal employees out into the streets, simply refuse to leave. If forced from your offices, show up to work en masse the next day - and every day after - and make sure NOBODY goes into those offices.

If Trump's new Department of Defense head Pete Hegseth makes a demand of the 3.5 million workers he now oversees, what can he possibly do if they disobey in the name of American democracy?

The same goes for new national security director Tulsi Gabbard, who has never worked in security or run a department of ANY kind. The same goes for new secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem, new Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. - or any other Trump appointee.

None of these figureheads - not even Trump himself - can do anything without our complicity.

Lastly, this battle is only just beginning. You must protect your physical and mental well-being.

You don't have the time or energy to fight meaningless squabbles on social media against Trump's MAGA sycophants who believe every narrative they sell.

No matter if they are friends or family or casual acquaintances on social media, SILENCE THEIR VOICES and influence. Block, snooze, delete or ignore them.

For me, the purge begins TODAY! I’d love to tell the people going away that it isn’t personal, but their blind belief system is a direct threat to me, my friends, family, neighbors, fellow Americans, Canadians, Palestinians, and, well, you get the picture.

Trust what your eyes and ears are telling you. Hope that they will catch up and join our fight against this power virus threatening our country and the world.

Lastly, remember the words of philosopher Bertrand Russell, who said roughly this of how fascism begins:

"First they fascinate the fools. Then they muzzle the intelligent."

If you've gotten this far, it's because you're not a fool.

We got here because all of our lives we believed in that concept devised by our founding fathers of "We The People."

Well, the only way out from under the megalomania of Donald Trump, Elon Musk and their collaborators is to make every day January 6th.

If you feel so moved, please share my post. If not, please act in some way. We need all hands on deck.

If we want our democracy back, starting today, starting now, we must BE THE PEOPLE.

#DonaldTrump #elonmusk #resistance #democracy

[ihonestlyhavenoideahowigothere]

Americans Abroad in Europe

I’m not so sure about other continents, but us Americans always sound so traumatized talking about out time spent abroad in Europe. I have heard multiple posts of people saying they were worried to pay for a doctors visit that in readily cost them only 100-300 euro…Europeans apologize to us for charging 100-300 Euro for a Dr’s visit and it’s like…no…no you don’t understand I will happily pay 300 euro do you have any idea how much more this would cost me in America??? WITH insurance??? Do you know what I would do to not have to question whether or not I really have to go to the doctor? Even as a kid I was scared of being so sick I had to go to the doctor because my parents wouldn’t take us to the doctor unless it was really really bad. Dont get me wrong, they took care of us and I was lucky to have a roof over my head but we didn’t have enough to just go to a doctor.

Then for the Americans who work overseas telling us the rumors are true…I’ve read papers and magazines saying in France if you’re sick you’re sick and you don’t have to use up “sick days”, in Eurpoean countries pregnant people get MONTHS of maternity leave but I never fully believed it. In America you are told out of politeness to “take care of yourself” and “don’t come to work if you’re sick” but no one really means it. They tell you that because we have certain labor laws they want to pretend are better than they actually are, they want to make it seem like they aren’t going to make you drag your ass into your shift when you’re coughing and sneezing and you’re pretty sure you’re going to vomit, you just haven’t yet because you’ve trained yourself not to because at a young age you were punished for being sick from school.

We are surprised when your cops don’t have guns. We are surprised when the car backfiring wasn’t a gunshot. We are surprised that you don’t take note of the exits when you enter a building, that you don’t stare at the person getting on the bus with a big hoodie on to see if he’s concealing a gun (because chances are you’ve learned to tell the signs of someone concealing a gun).

It’s beyond culture shock. Culture shock is realizing that German trains are punctual and that there is still a heavy Catholic influence in Ireland. It is the same culture shock as finding out that weed is illegal in most European countries but the drinking age is much lower than it is in America. It is the same culture shock one would get from moving from Nebraska to Oregon and finding out that most stores close at 7-9pm and you will seldom find anything open 24/7. It is the same culture shock one would get moving from southern Texas to the Rocky Mountains and seeing just how long the snow stays on the mountains. That, THAT is culture shock. Being shocked that education is affordable, that healthcare is affordable, that people are given vacation time, PTO, decent paternity and maternity leave…that is trauma.

[dudescape]

gonna sleep in the back of a uhaul in a shady motel parking lot behind a packed truck stop in nowhere, Texas and I'm PRAYING nobody latches me in here

my cat is set up with his litter box, food, and water in the cab (for the road, but also he's sleeping in there because I can lock it - I can't even fully close the cargo door from the inside)

got stopped for a vehicle search on the way here and they alerted on my weed. just glass and a cart and they didn't take any of it, but I did have to sit on the pavement for a while, while also trying to wrestle a squirmy cat while they went through all my shit. apparently weed is still illegal in Texas, so if I get pulled over and searched I'm fucked

[spookyhoax]

i just ordered some sundae school thc gummies online even though i'm not a smoker or a weed guy bc i'm curious if they could help my sleep and my motivation/depression. weed is still illegal in texas but there are smoke shops on literally every corner so idk why that's possible. some legal loophole ig... anyways i got 3 flavors and they're each supposed to do something different so we'll seeeeeeeee

[cannawize]

Seamless Access to Cannabis: The Future of Online Weed Delivery

The digital age has transformed the way people access goods and services, and cannabis is no exception. With legalization expanding across many regions, online cannabis platforms have made it increasingly convenient to purchase products from the comfort of home. For users seeking quality, discretion, and speed, buy weed online delivery services offer a seamless alternative to in-person purchases, bridging the gap between accessibility and consumer demand.

One of the most notable advantages of this method is privacy. Not everyone wants to walk into a dispensary, especially in areas where social stigma may still linger. Online platforms allow customers to browse at their own pace, learn about product types, and read user reviews before making informed choices. From flowers and edibles to concentrates and topicals, the virtual menu is usually far more extensive than what's available in-store, catering to both medical and recreational users.

The rise of technology in the cannabis sector means delivery services are more sophisticated than ever. Orders can often be tracked in real-time, and many companies offer same-day or next-day delivery options. Packaging is done securely and discreetly, with safety and legal compliance maintained at every step. Furthermore, identity verification ensures that sales are limited to eligible adults, meeting all regional and federal requirements.

When it comes to buying weed online texas, users need to be aware of their local laws. While cannabis remains illegal for recreational use in Texas, medical use is permitted under strict regulations. That said, the popularity of online delivery has led to an increase in users researching legal loopholes or looking for legitimate CBD alternatives that are legal in the state. In some cases, Delta-8 THC—an isomer derived from hemp—is legally sold online and shipped to Texas residents, offering similar effects to traditional cannabis without violating federal law.

Pricing is another advantage of online weed delivery services. Online dispensaries often run regular promotions, offer bundle deals, and provide loyalty programs that reward repeat customers. These savings, combined with the convenience of doorstep delivery, make digital purchasing a smart choice for modern consumers.

Product quality and safety are paramount in this space. Reputable online cannabis retailers test all their products through third-party labs to ensure purity, potency, and the absence of harmful chemicals. Detailed lab reports are typically available on product pages, allowing customers to verify what they're consuming.

In an industry where innovation is constant, the future of online weed delivery looks bright. Advances in packaging, delivery logistics, and customer service continue to enhance the user experience. As more states and countries adapt their laws to reflect changing attitudes toward cannabis, the demand for reliable and safe online delivery options is expected to grow.

Ultimately, whether you're a seasoned cannabis connoisseur or a first-time user, buying weed online is becoming a trusted, efficient, and legally compliant method to access high-quality cannabis products. As regulations evolve, so too will the platforms designed to serve this booming market.

[dankusner]

Ken Paxton loses bid to keep Dallas from enforcing marijuana charter amendment

A Dallas County district judge on Friday rejected Attorney General Ken Paxton’s request to block Dallas temporarily from enforcing a ban on police arresting or citing people solely accused of low-level marijuana possession.

Judge Dale Tillery told state attorneys in court he was denying Paxton’s request for a temporary injunction because they couldn’t prove the Dallas City Council, city manager and interim police chief overstepped their authority by implementing a recent voter-approved charter amendment decriminalizing possession of less than four ounces of marijuana.

The state argued Dallas is violating state law because recreational marijuana use is still illegal in Texas.

Tillery noted that while state law does say local governing and law enforcement authorities can’t adopt a policy that prevents them from fully enforcing drug laws, it says nothing about what to do when faced with voter-backed and approved propositions.

“The (Texas) Supreme Court says it’s their ministerial duty, and they have to recognize it,” Tillery said, referring to city officials.

The judge added the state could continue pursuing the lawsuit challenging how the charter proposition is being applied to trial but disagreed the actions of the city in response to the November election were illegal

Paxton sued Dallas, all 15 members of the Dallas City Council, interim city manager Kimberly Bizor Tolbert and interim police chief Michael Igo in November after 66% of voters approved Proposition R.

The city charter amendment bars Dallas police from using the smell of marijuana as probable cause for searches and stops them from arresting people or issuing them citations on suspicion of having less than four ounces of marijuana.

Dallas is the largest Texas city to ban arrests for low-level marijuana offenses.

The proposition was backed by Austin-based nonprofit Ground Game Texas, which gained enough signatures to get it onto the election ballot last November.

The group, which has led similar efforts around Texas, said the charter change was necessary to address the disproportionate number of Black people arrested for the low-level offense and help direct police resources to more serious crimes.

The attorney general contends Proposition R is unconstitutional and Dallas doesn’t have the legal authority to make officers enforce it.

“We don’t challenge the fact that the Dallas Police Department and the city of Dallas, like every municipality, has finite resources and need to balance and prioritize those resources,” said Zachary Rhines, a lawyer in the state attorney general’s office Friday.

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“What we are saying is that a blanket policy saying you are not going to do this absent one or two circumstances, pulling discretion away from police officers … that case-by-case discretion is essentially wrong.”

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Elizabeth Chandler, a Dallas assistant city attorney, told Tillery the city is still enforcing drug laws, “just not the way that the state wants them to.”

She argued that granting the state a temporary injunction against Proposition R would infringe on the city’s discretionary action and the will of voters.

Paxton has also filed lawsuits against Austin, Denton and other cities where similar voter-supported mandates on weed have passed.

Judges have thus far overturned similar Paxton lawsuits against Austin and San Marcos, but he is appealing both.

Not every city where voters have approved some marijuana decriminalization is siding with election results.

City leaders in Lockhart and Bastrop say they won’t uphold decriminalizing up to four ounces of marijuana despite voter approval.

Igo testified in court on Friday that Dallas officers still have the option of arresting people in possession of four ounces or less of marijuana if it’s tied to a high-priority drug investigation, violent felony, or if weed is the substance used by an intoxicated driver.

He said he didn’t know of any officer who had been disciplined for violating the department’s directive to enforce Proposition R or who had been referred to remedial training related to upholding it.

Igo said officers can still seize small amounts of marijuana from people who are arrested. But once they are released from custody, the weed can be returned with the rest of their property.