I’m back, Cort’s back (For a little while anyway since that guy is always jumping timestreams.), and the great companions are back. I’m sure by now you guys have figured out that my buddy stories almost always involve non-human companions that matter more than people do. In any case, we are all back.

When last we visited I was in a pretty bad place in life. Marital woes, family fires, depression, etc. A recipe many of my professional ilk share. But I had another issue that I didn’t think was related. I grew up with asthma. I don’t mean, ‘Oh darn I need to sit for a minute,’ asthma. I mean waking up to my mom’s cigarette breath in my mouth because she’s giving me CPR while dad races us to the ER with his own cigarette in his hand, kind of asthma.

I was able to control it with meds. Daily steroid inhalers, emergency inhalers, and humidity always kept me alive. When I got to high school a science teacher and a coach talked me into trying out for the swim team. They both had asthma as kids and swimming had helped. So I tried out and sucked. But that coach kept me on the team anyway. Eventually I didn’t suck so much and the asthma got better. I still fought pneumonia once a year. I still got sick. My lungs still sucked but I was able to breathe.

Fast forward to around the time I last published. So… several years ago. Great book. Warrior’s Curse was a hit and I was miserable. My wife was staying late at work to avoid coming home. My kid and I nearly came to blows a few times. Basically, I was a dick. A suicidal dick. Had I mentioned that part yet?

Anyway, I was camping near the Donner Campsite in the Sierra Nevadas wearing a Soylent Green t-shirt and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me when I came across a study from a famous university talking about how in a small percentage of patients long term heavy use of steroids for the treatment of asthma could lead to… depression… suicidal thoughts… anger issues… Well holy hell! Eureka! Fuck me running! Damn!

I immediately quit taking all my asthma meds. We all know that wasn’t going to end well. But I knew from experience that if I didn’t have my inhalers with me, pot would lessen the symptoms of an asthma attack. The short reason is that if you get these tiny receptors in your lungs stoned, the things that get inflamed during an asthma attack are too high to give a shit. So I upped my pot intake. Then I upped it some more. Let’s just say I’m glad I live in a state where I can have it delivered right to my door, and I’m glad my delivery guy drives a hybrid.

Now I can’t say pot is gonna work for you if you have asthma, I just know it worked for me. Even my lung capacity has increased dramatically over the last two years. And the only time I’ve been sick was when the pseudo-grandkid brought over some sort of alien gut parasite on Superbowl Sunday. I don’t even get colds or have to take allergy pills now.

My wife and I are better than we’ve been in over a decade. Even though we are both working from a very small home right now, as the world faces the COVID-19 battle of our collective lifetimes. I also believe pot saved my marriage. And my wife agrees. It’s always good when your spouse agrees with you.

Thanks to a spit test, I do know that I have some extra Neanderthal DNA compared to most of you, and while I’m not a geneticist, I gotta believe there’s a link between it being called The Stone Age and the fact that we knew getting stoned was good for us long before we knew how to make stone tools.

As for what this means for you the reader… Like I said, I’m back and I’m writing a lot. I’ve teamed up with M82 Books to let them handle the business end of this business, and I’m gonna write.

And by the way, very soon you’ll find my books everywhere, not just Amazon. Sit back, drink a toast to our future in the Cigar Galaxy, or maybe smoke a bowl. I’m gonna do that. Because after all, it is 4-20.