Not Rated

Sometimes I read about couples in recovery that actually do stuff together.
We're not one of those cool couples.  I mean, we talk about maybe doing something else besides sitting and watching TV together, but those conversations never last very long and are usually ended by
"Want to watch Cheers again?"

A few nights ago, we sat next to each other on the couch and I totally SHOOK UP our routine.  Instead of watching a funny sitcom (I can only handle so many episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond before I want to kick Raymond in the nuts because a grown man should have a limit to how much whining is allowed in one  fictional, scripted lifetime), I brought up our Netflix queue and clicked on:

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I actually had to go in and change my parental controls so we were able to watch it.
Reefer Madness was made in 1930, and for 1930... it was a downright scandal!
Don't tell my mother, but in one scene.
I saw a woman.
In.
Her.
Bra.

It almost felt exactly like 1975 would have.

My husband and I fast-forwarded through all of the educational mumbo-jumbo and went straight to the meat of the matter.
Bill and Mary are going steady.  They say things like "swell" and "gee" a lot.  They take a few innocent turns down Peer Pressure Rd, and before anyone knows what's what:
Bill loses his virginity.
Mary gets shot in the back.
Mary's little brother gets high, drives a car at the racing speed of 45 (gasp!) and HITS a man and then RUNS.
The woman Bill gives it up to (also a regular pot head) throws herself out of a window.
Bill is framed for Mary's murder and is so stoned when she's killed that he actually believes he did it.
Ralph (I think his name was Ralph) tries to take advantage of Stoned Mary shortly before she takes a bullet to the back... and somewhere during the trial in the which Bill is convicted of Mary's murder... Ralph goes certifiably insane and kills his drug dealer with a fire poker.
He is sentenced to spend the rest of his life in an institution.  See Ralph?  See Ralph toke?

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The movie is just over an hour long... if you fast forward through all the boring educational stuff, it's much less than that.
As we crawled into bed that night, I asked my husband if he had been shocked into changing his perspective on Mary Jane.
We had a good laugh and went to bed.

Am I allowed to laugh at addiction?

I think I am... especially when it's cloaked in a blazer and saying things like, "C'mon, Bill... I thought you were on the level."