The Yearly Weed Divorce Clause: Congress Extends Cannabis Protections Like a Bad Ex Who Won’t Move Out

Washington, D.C. — July 2025

In a legislative maneuver so familiar it could be written into the zodiac calendar, the U.S. Senate has once again extended federal protections for state medical marijuana programs—without actually doing anything to move federal reform forward. Think of it like a prenup for the War on Drugs: the feds won’t mess with your stash as long as you promise not to ask for real change.

It’s called the Rohrabacher–Farr amendment, but inside the Beltway it’s known as the Yearly Weed Divorce Clause—a budget rider that’s been tacked onto every appropriations bill since 2014 like the congressional version of “we’ll talk about it later.”

This year’s extension came via the Fiscal Year 2025 Financial Services and General Government bill, and was approved by the Senate Appropriations Committee with all the passion of a spouse handing over a rent check they’re legally obligated to split. Meanwhile, the House quietly backed down from a separate proposal that would have blocked cannabis rescheduling altogether, proving once again that gridlock isn’t just a political term—it’s a whole damn lifestyle.

“We Support States’ Rights—Until They Actually Do Something”

On paper, the rider prevents the Department of Justice from interfering with state medical marijuana laws. In practice, it’s like promising your roommate you won’t eat their leftovers, while actively lobbying the landlord to evict them for growing basil in the window.

“This measure ensures we protect patients and uphold state laws,” said one Senator through a clenched jaw, seconds after voting against cannabis banking, interstate commerce, and literally every other mechanism that would help patients, operators, or the economy.

The amendment doesn’t cover adult-use programs. It doesn’t touch on rescheduling. It doesn’t fix 280E. It’s a bandaid over a bullet wound. And the worst part? We’re supposed to be fucking grateful.

“This is a bipartisan win,” said an anonymous staffer who has been copy-pasting the same press release since the Obama administration. “We believe in progress, just not all at once. Or ever.”

Meanwhile, DEA and FDA Still Can’t Find Their Asses

Rescheduling? Don’t count on it.

The DEA is allegedly still reviewing the FDA’s cannabis rescheduling recommendation, a process that’s been dragging longer than the plotline of a bad Netflix reboot. In the meantime, cannabis operators remain stuck in legal limbo, paying corporate taxes like cartels while being treated like meth labs by banks and insurance providers.

“You can sell THC next to a Walgreens in some states,” said one former regulator, “but federally, you still have fewer rights than a chicken plant.”

No one knows what Schedule III will look like in practice. But here’s what we do know: the people holding up reform are the same ones who keep cashing checks from pharma, prison lobbies, and piss-test companies with federal contracts.

What This Really Means

The rider's extension is a political shrug. It says, “Sure, you can exist. Just don’t ask for legitimacy, funding, or fairness.” It's the same logic that kept Don't Ask, Don't Tell alive for decades: you're allowed, but only if you shut the fuck up.

Cannabis gets treated like a side chick. The government won’t publicly acknowledge the relationship, but it keeps showing up every night to hit your ATM and ask if you still have any pre-rolls from that Oregon drop.

This Is Compliance Theater, Not Reform

The truth is: cannabis reform is stuck in a hostage situation where the hostage-takers write the news headlines.

We get the crumbs—protections for people already operating under a thousand restrictions—while Congress pats itself on the back for not launching a new federal raid in fucking 2025.

We’re not being freed. We’re being leased.

And until that changes, expect this exact same amendment to roll around next year like a divorced ex dropping off a birthday card: too little, too late, and somehow still claiming alimony.