Yesterday afternoon, minding my own business, I was victimized by the New York State Marijuana Regulation and Taxation Act of 2021.

Here’s how it went down: I was walking south along Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, on the Central Park side, and I lit up a cigar. At a certain point, I crossed into the park itself, barely 10 yards from the wall that separates the Fifth Avenue sidewalk from the tree-lined border, and I sat on a bench to use my phone.

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