When I was a sprout, I had “a friend” (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more, say no more) who used to sell ounces of weed for $12. As a journalist some years later, I used to snicker at the police valuation of weed seizures, knowing that they were based on outmoded business models like “matchbook” or “joint” sales.

Well, they’re still at it, or I’m hopelessly behind the times. According to the Bibleburg Gaslight, a medical-marijuana dispenser who beat the rap after getting arrested at a traffic stop in December 2008 — “even though he presented his medical marijuana registration card and signed documents showing that he was the … lawfully appointed supplier … for several medical marijuana users” — was holding less than a half-pound, which either the G or the cops say was worth about $4,000.

Shit, no wonder Dave’s not here. He can’t afford to be here.

Frank Rich at The New York Times draws a bead on John “Wrong Way” McCain, whom he deems chief among “the unrepentant blunderers” who dug us deeply into the twin holes of Iraq and Afghanistan. Notes Rich: “Americans … want to see the fine print after eight years of fiasco with little accounting. While McCain and company remain frozen where they were in 2001, many of their fellow citizens have learned from the Iraq tragedy.”

In noting Rich’s broadside, Steve Benen at Political Animal wonders why, given his long record of bellicose ineptitude, Wrong-Way McCain keeps getting invited to broadcast his ignorance of foreign policy via the Sunday morning political talk shows. Today marks McCain’s 14th Sunday-morning appearance since President Obama’s inauguration, notes Benen: “Not bad for a senator in the minority, who isn’t in the party leadership, who has no role in any important negotiations, and who has offered no significant pieces of legislation.”

The mainstream media often mistakes septic tanks for oracles, but McCain is a particularly odiferous sack of effluent — a military man with the boundless ego, lust for publicity and tactical genius of Gen. George Armstrong Custer.

At least Custer was among those with boots on the ground when the deal went down. McCain’s clearly spent too much time in — and on — the air to have a real sense of the real costs of warfare.

That monumental clap of thunder you heard this morning was the sound of millions of Repuglican assholes slamming shut at the news that Adolf Hitler Benito Mussolini Mao Zedong Pol Pot Josef “Uncle Joe” Stalin Barack Saddam Hussein Obama has won the Nobel Peace Prize.

Now, I can sympathize with those who may consider this award a tad premature. It’s not unlike stopping the Tour on stage 5 and saying, “Aw, fuck it, give the jersey to Michael Barry. Nice guy, hard worker, real good sport. Chapeau. OK, guys, let’s ride on to Paris, whaddaya say?” There are a few other guys in the contest, and lots of summit finishes and hairpin descents and road furniture between here and there.

Still, it works just fine as a review of the eight-year-long rendition of “The Horst Wessel Song” as performed by the evil organ grinder Darth Cheney and his monkey. Perhaps the award should be renamed this year as the Holy Shit Are We Ever Glad the American Executive Branch Is No Longer Insane Prize.