What Would Chuck Norris Do

The situation: You’re at a party with your high-school friends, and one of them pulls out a marijuna “joint” and proceeds to light it up and take long puffs on it. Then he passes it around to your circle of pals, with each giving in to the peer pressure that is inherent in such a situation. Your turn comes up, and everyone’s eyes turn to you as you take the joint and hold it close by. And you wonder to yourself, “what would Chuck Norris do?”

The response: If Chuck Norris were faced with this situation, he would have some serious questions in need of answering - “Why was I invited to a party with a bunch of kids young enough to be my grandchildren?”, “What am I doing with my life that I have time to spend with underage brats outside the martial arts arena?”, and finally “Why am I the only one wearing cowboy duds?”.

But Norris would focus his attention on the moment that the joint is produced from its primary source, keeping in mind that he is a role model for young children. Youg children who aren’t that smart, obviously, and can’t see through the paper-thin plots and stereotypical villains that rendered Mr. Norris’ show “Walker, Texas Ranger” unintentionally funny. When it became a running gag on “Late Night With Conan O’Brien”, surely Chuck realized that the tale of a strong-willed Texas Ranger with his own sense of justice and a questionable mix of Oriental philosophy and fundamentalist Christian dogma as a personal faith who dispatches his enemies not by turning his other cheek but by turning their cheeks with a swift roundhouse kick and doesn’t see the irony in that is somehow made for mockery.

Scanning the room for signs of other adults who could bust the teens’ illicit joy (there are none), Chuck is convinced that he will have to stand up and be the one hero in the situation who does the right thing. There is the problem that Kenny, the asthmatic kid you know from Shop, seems to be puffing on the joint like a newbie, with little consideration for his fellow party-goers. What with the rising cost of dime bags in most suburban drug markets, weed don’t come cheap, man. Norris eyes Kenny with a mixture of admiration for the youngster’s guff (perhaps the young man is trying to ensure that no one else will be able to go one toke over the line) and some anger as he wants to be able to raise the still-lit joint himself, ground it into the floor below him, and come up with some hip-to-be-square quip like “Drugs are for dopes” or perhaps “the only roachs I care for are the ones that I can crush underneath my boot when they come crawling out from under the fridge where I keep my beer…don’t be surprised that I drink beer, children! I’m a grown man…I have needs.”

Norris would finally get the roach passed his way after Barbara (the friendly but plain girl who follows you around all the time) stumbles through her one attempt at getting high and merely ends up with a cloud of smoke surrounding her head. He looks at it with his trademark squint, eyeballs the other partygoers who look on him as a hero and role modal. Should he take a puff, just to see what it’s like? Or should he take the high road (no pun intended) and put an end to their dopey party (pun intended).

Just then, Norris’ costar Clarence Gilyard breaks into the room and alerts him that Ramon Sanchez (or some other Spanish-named drug dealer from a vaguely identified nation in South America) has kidnapped Walker’s beloved, Alex, and is holding her and CD (Walker’s bartending friend) hostage in his heavily armed lair. Norris, caught up in the moment, simply lets the blunt fall to the ground as he runs to start up his truck and ride off alone to take on Sanchez and his private army. He has only his gun, which he will not need, and his martial arts skills. But Chuck Norris has no worries.

Because he is as high as a kite right now. Sorry to disappoint you, kids.