If there’s one thing we can count on in the Trump era—or any era touched by this chaotic orbit—it’s that the man knows how to ride a wave without getting wet. During his presidency, executive orders flew like confetti at a ticker-tape parade—on immigration, trade, social media, even dishwashers. But amid all the bluster, one topic remained conspicuously absent: marijuana. No sweeping reforms, no proclamations, not even a half-baked attempt to cash in on the green rush. Weed, it seems, wasn’t worth the ink.
Marijuana laws? Just another prop in his endless carnival of self-promotion, a shiny bauble to dangle in front of the masses when the stakes get too high or the heat closes in.
Picture it now: a rally somewhere in Middle America. The red hats are out in force, the air thick with the smell of fried food and whisky. Trump, bathed in the soft glow of stage lights, drops a line about “Big Marijuana” or maybe “farmers growing the finest weed—American weed!” The crowd roars, half of them unsure if it’s a joke or a promise. And that’s the trick—keep it vague, keep it shiny, keep them guessing.
In September, Trump made history as the first major-party presidential nominee to endorse a state adult-use legalization campaign. A Florida amendment had his official blessing, though skeptics say it was less about policy and more about sticking it to a political rival. Spoiler alert: the amendment failed. But Trump also teased support for moving marijuana from Schedule 1 to Schedule 3 of the Controlled Substances Act—a game-changing step for the cannabis industry. Or was it just another line in his greatest hits reel?
Since then, the silence has been deafening. Trump hasn’t mentioned weed reform again, not even during confirmation hearings for his Attorney General nominee. Meanwhile, the marijuana rescheduling process—originally jump-started by Joe Biden—is now on pause, thanks to a tangled mess of legal drama, agency bias allegations, and Trump’s own leadership vacuum. The whole thing now hangs on who he taps to run federal drug enforcement, and whether they’ll march to his tune.
So where does Trump really stand? His relationship with cannabis is as murky as a bong water spill. On one hand, there’s big money to be made—the $32 billion marijuana industry is no small fry, and Trump loves a good cash grab. On the other hand, legal weed doesn’t sit well with his pearl-clutching, Bible-thumping base.
Will he legalize? Decriminalize? Hand the whole mess over to his corporate cronies to monetize like they did with casinos and steaks? Maybe he’ll dabble in some half-measure, a token effort to keep both libertarians and evangelicals pacified. Or maybe he’ll just let the states keep squabbling over it while claiming credit for every tax dollar raked in.
Meanwhile, cannabis operators and lobbyists are reading tea leaves like they’re working overtime at Hogwarts. They’re clinging to Trump’s September social media post like it’s the Dead Sea Scrolls, hoping his vague promise to support “safe banking” and “state’s rights” wasn’t just hot air. But hope in politics is a lot like blowing smoke rings—fun to watch, impossible to hold.
And then there’s the elephant in the room: his pending nominee for Attorney General. If confirmed, they’ll be in a prime position to shape the future of federal cannabis policy. Their track record is hardly a guarantee, and the cannabis industry’s faith in the administration is as fragile as a glass pipe on a tile floor.
Add to that Trump’s pick for interim DEA chief, a longtime agency insider and rescheduling skeptic. Whether this is a placeholder or a permanent headache for cannabis advocates remains to be seen. Either way, optimism for reform under Trump’s watch is starting to feel like waiting for a pizza delivery that never comes.
Let’s not forget Congress, where Republicans mostly march to Trump’s drum. Some cannabis lobbyists have resorted to waving screenshots of his social media posts in meetings, trying to convince GOP staffers that, yes, their boss did technically endorse marijuana reform. It’s a desperate strategy, but what else can you do when the deck is stacked with leaders who have shown little love for weed?
In the end, Trump doesn’t care about marijuana. Not really. To him, it’s a bargaining chip, a headline generator, a tool to use when the walls start closing in. When the poll numbers dip or the scandals boil over, don’t be surprised if he suddenly becomes the “weed president,” painting himself as a champion of freedom while quietly ensuring the real winners are the ones bankrolling his campaigns.
And yet, the truth is far less dramatic. Marijuana laws will likely stay just the way they are—a tangled mess of state-by-state regulations, a patchwork quilt of progress and prohibition. Trump might play at being the Great Decider, but this one’s staying in the states’ hands. Just like always.
Keep it Weird,
