Discovered a recently released sitcom on Netflix starring Kathy Bates called "Disjointed." It's about a sixtysomething cannabis activist who now runs a marijuana dispensary with her son and several other twentysomething "budtenders."
At times, "Disjointed" is a really bad sitcom. It abuses the laugh track button. And the character dynamics are pretty predictable. Stoner mom versus business-oriented son... Stoner mom versus straight-laced neighbor... Drop-out Asian med student who's afraid of disappointing her strict parents... There's even a will-they-or-won't-they romance between Ruth's son and one of the employees. And there in a ton of stoner humor in this series.
But then there are these insightful moments in most of the episodes that say something really cool about pot legalization, or pot culture, or the pot industry, or the power of trauma, or even the power of addiction. And I find that I can't stop watching.
One of the cooler subplots has featured Carter (played by Tone Bell), the security guard at Ruth's Alternative Caring. He was a soldier in Iraq who is still plagued by his wartime memories -- not to mention childhood abuse that was inflicted upon him. We periodically slip into his mind's eye, which is a cartoonish kaleidoscope of traumatic memories. Carter begins exploring the myriad marijuana products around to help him open up to the pain -- before realizing that his PTSD is bigger than either he or the pot can fix.
And there are some really great supporting characters. There's Chris Redd and Betsy Sodaro as permanently blitzed vloggers Dank & Dabby. There's Michael Trucco at Tae Kwon Doug, owner of the TKD dogo next door and perpetual thorn in Ruth's backside. Or is that the other way around. And then there is Nicole Sullivan as unhappy housewife Maria. I've loved Sullivan since her days on "Mad TV." She's
One of the things that annoyed me about the shop has to do with the amount of weed that Ruth and the others ingest while working. Effective bar owners quickly realize that you don't drink when you're working. The same surely must be true for a marijuana dispensary also.
One last thing for my current and future employers: I don't smoke pot.
At times, "Disjointed" is a really bad sitcom. It abuses the laugh track button. And the character dynamics are pretty predictable. Stoner mom versus business-oriented son... Stoner mom versus straight-laced neighbor... Drop-out Asian med student who's afraid of disappointing her strict parents... There's even a will-they-or-won't-they romance between Ruth's son and one of the employees. And there in a ton of stoner humor in this series.
But then there are these insightful moments in most of the episodes that say something really cool about pot legalization, or pot culture, or the pot industry, or the power of trauma, or even the power of addiction. And I find that I can't stop watching.
One of the cooler subplots has featured Carter (played by Tone Bell), the security guard at Ruth's Alternative Caring. He was a soldier in Iraq who is still plagued by his wartime memories -- not to mention childhood abuse that was inflicted upon him. We periodically slip into his mind's eye, which is a cartoonish kaleidoscope of traumatic memories. Carter begins exploring the myriad marijuana products around to help him open up to the pain -- before realizing that his PTSD is bigger than either he or the pot can fix.
And there are some really great supporting characters. There's Chris Redd and Betsy Sodaro as permanently blitzed vloggers Dank & Dabby. There's Michael Trucco at Tae Kwon Doug, owner of the TKD dogo next door and perpetual thorn in Ruth's backside. Or is that the other way around. And then there is Nicole Sullivan as unhappy housewife Maria. I've loved Sullivan since her days on "Mad TV." She's
One of the things that annoyed me about the shop has to do with the amount of weed that Ruth and the others ingest while working. Effective bar owners quickly realize that you don't drink when you're working. The same surely must be true for a marijuana dispensary also.
One last thing for my current and future employers: I don't smoke pot.