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Milkijuana?
by John Wind Bell

"Say No to Raw Milk," will be the popular chant. "This is your brain on Raw Milk," will be on the TV screen. "It's a gateway drink," someone will be sure to preach from their pulpit.

Granted, it's a bit of a stretch, but not that much. Bear with me now.

There is already a fear associated with raw milk that's been planted in peoples' heads, no matter how safe the milk business was before pasteurization. I have relatives that are still alive who were in the milk business before and after this new heating process. We've talked about it on numerous occasions throughout my life, always concluding that the only reason they used this process is so it could sit on the shelves longer, not spoil and be sold in the grocery store.

"And it ain't any better for ya than colored water," my great uncle has said. His family owned Lankerbrook Dairy at one time. I think he has a chip on his shoulder, after all these years, he loved being a milk man.

So yes, I admit it, out of necessity he and I and others in our family, as well as others in this country, have a connection. We deal in the black market,' so to speak. It is our drink of choice. We joke about it. It's our family secret. Some times before I leave for my weekly 'score,' I'll first look out the peep-hole of my front door for any suspicious cars with darkly tinted windows. I'll take a different rout every week to my raw milk supplier, whom I'll call Joseph.

No, I don't have to see him under a cloak of darkness. No, I don't have to call a number or leave a text code on his cell phone before I pick it up. He doesn't have a phone. No I don't have to send him an email, he has no PC. Nor do I have to meet him at an undisclosed location. He doesn't have a car. Nor does he have to be in disguise, but he sure looks like he is. He's Amish, and there's just one day he won't do business on his farm - Sunday. And there's only one guarantee he offers - his family drinks the same. Mind you, I've never seen a healthier family. This is the only example and FDA seal of approval that I need to observe.

What I don't need is some fat fast-food infested bureaucrat telling me what is good for me and what I'm permitted to consume. And thank goodness, after drinking it a person doesn't feel the slightest bit euphoric from his raw milk. But if they did, you bet your Oreos there would be a Raw Milk Czar in the White House.

The FBI would come down hard on the dairy farm like stink on cow patties. They'd confiscate cows,

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