Weed





Bancopuma from The Nexian provides an in depth look at one of the most widely used yet misunderstood plants on the face of the earth, featuring digestible overviews of topics such as…





While the names THC and CBD may ring some bells, very few are aware of a compound in marijuana called cannabichromene. That’s unfortunate, because cannabichromene is actually the second most abundant cannabinoid in marijuana,…











The title to this piece is something that randomly popped into my head when I was Occult ganj-i-tating a few months back. I wrote it down on my Facebook page (friend me for strangeness) and ultimately just dismissed it as a funny song title idea until the next few weeks found me catching up on Mad Men. Of course! With weed laws loosening and legal weed a reality in my home state of Washington, we’re going to need some slick marketing copy to make this stuff the center of our economy (as it rightfully should be), and who better to do that than a chronically stoned super freak like me? “You’re Not a Monkey When You’re Stoned.” What a great tag line (pot marketing people, call me), but Christ, you really don’t need a hypnotic tag line to sell this stuff. As I’ve found out first hand as a small time dealer, shit basically sells itself.

Here’s why. Life is bullshit, pot can help! Man, that’s another great one. Someone should really hire my ass here because I could just keep going with these. But seriously, chances are, if you’re not among the supremely wealthy minority of privileged fucks running things, you probably have to work a day job that makes you want to blow your brains out a lot of the time. See, life is bullshit. I have no idea what the architects of this reality were thinking with all that, but the good news is that pot can take you far far away from everything, really fucking quick…






Who are “they”? Good question. Grey Aliens? Beings from the Sirius star system? Harvey the white rabbit? Fuck if I know. They appear to refract differently through the nervous system of everyone…


I grew up reading Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends. It was a major part of my childhood. What I didn’t know at the time was that good old Shel had another side…an adult side…although in retrospect the freaky beard and bare feet should’ve given it away. The cartoonist/writer worked for Playboy in the sixties, documenting his trips to Fire Island, Haight-Ashbury and other places with a reputation for the risque. He also had a pretty serious career as a singer/songwriter who wasn’t afraid to tackle topics like pot (“The Smoke-off”) and venereal disease (“Don’t Give a Dose to the One You Love Most”) in a light-hearted, oddball way. His album Freakin at the Freakers Ball is a prime example of Silverstein’s bawdier side, featuring tracks like “I Got Stoned and I Missed It” and “Masochistic Baby”.
Here’s a few tracks from Freakin at the Freaker’s Ball. RIP, Shel, you are missed.