Time to move to a different town, I think. Antioch, California, is officially the sketchiest town I have ever lived in. You literally cannot smoke pot in this place, because my land-lady bans tenants that do drugs, which is fine. And so you have to walk down the street and smoke at the park. Fine. But if you know me, you know I am often a night owl. So I'm walking down the street at 3 AM to smoke at the local park and the local Lone Tree Nortenos, who own many agricultural cities, think I must be a drug dealer that they can shake down. These dudes are literally sitting off their cars, holding on the the “oh shit!” handle with their butts on the open window frame and their feet on the seat of the truck. They're like 20-year-old dudes having big drinking parties with very young women in attendance, loudly in a quiet, remote agricultural suburb. So I decide to smoke in the back yard of my house, gambling that the land-lady and her family have no reason to check out the back yard at this hour. So I'm smoking, and I cough, which stirs the neighbor's dog, which starts to bark incessantly, forever, which wakes up the neighbors, who shout “Shut the fuck up!” at their own dogs. Fuck. Nowhere to smoke cannabis. Time to move to a different town, I think.