I’m strongly opposed to the legalization of marijuana. I truly believe it weakens the best part of the marijuana experience, which is buying it. Dispensaries have sanitized the experience. What once was a fun, sometimes risky, always thrilling transaction has been reduced to the equivalent of buying sneakers in a chain store.
Buying illegal drugs from a stranger on the street builds character. It assists in sharpening your instincts, helps one focus in dangerous situations, thus making you a stronger individual. It greatly saddens me that the youth of today will never know what it’s like to have the guy you thought was selling you pot shove a gun in your face and take all your money, credit cards, and cell phone. Sure I pissed my pants when this happened, but ya know what? I got better at picking which neighborhood alleys I walked down with a drug dealer.
I don’t mean to sound like the older guy who nags on the younger generation for being soft, but the younger generation is fucking soft. They think a good time is putting neon colors on their face, taking some molly, and dancing around with a pacifier in their mouths. That’s not partying. That’s a sequence from A Clockwork Orange (book not movie.) In my day when we went out to party we downed a 12-pack of the cheapest beer we could find, smoked some dirt weed, and jumped in a mosh pit. And if you woke up on a lawn with a few loose teeth you knew you had a good night.
It greatly saddens me that the younger generation will only procure their weed in the safe confines of a dispensary to the mind-numbing sounds of Dubstep.
I have listed some of the joys of buying weed illegally in hopes of keeping the spirit of true drug buying alive:
1. Giving your cash to a man named Gator or Coupon Sam and hoping they return with drugs.
2. Not knowing if you are actually buying weed from an undercover cop who may club you and then throw you in jail.
3. Watching a drug dealer weigh the weed to prove to you it’s the right amount while he tells stories of how we saw Black Sabbath with Ronny James Dio as the front man.
4. Rolling up the bag of weed and tucking it under your ball sack in case you get pulled over by the cops or your dad suspects you have weed.
5. Quickly buying weed in a public park and nervously rushing the transaction thus not noticing you actually purchased seeds and stems. (Marijuana buying should be a risk that sometimes pays off or sometimes gives you a headache because your stash was mixed with oregano.)
6. Knowing that someone risked their life and maybe the lives of their family by sneaking the pot into the country by hiding it in their gas tank or mule it in their body.
7. Putting weed up your ass so you can have weed when you fly to another city.
I’m sure most people under the age of 35 can appreciate the subtle enjoyment derived from the above list, but then again I don’t understand going into a weed store and eyeballing the various strains and flavors or chatting about how delicious the edibles are. Jesus Christ! Are you in Napa at a vineyard picking out some wine for your Chilean sea bass or you gonna do bong rips while blaring some Tool?
Also, I don’t believe in edibles. If your not hacking a cough worthy of a chain smoker on his deathbed after a hit from a bowl shaped like a pirate’s skull you haven’t earned your high.
The other thing that totally sickens me about legal weed is Humboldt County. Specifically, my nephew, Toucan Dan (that’s his raver DJ name). Anyway, nothing burns my chaps more than a bunch of 20-something-year-old wannabe hippy dudes with dreads picking my weed. WEED SHOULD NOT COME FROM AMERICA! Or at least it shouldn’t be harvested by a bunch of kids taking a break from college. It’s ruining the economy of the drug world. Weed should come from impoverished South American families. IT’S SUPPORTING INDIVIDUALS, MAN. Not funding some jackass’ summer vacation.
Again, maybe I can’t fit into these new times of dispensaries, vaporizers, and marijuana butter, but I truly think you don’t understand the joys of marijuana use until you’ve tossed a $50 bag of weed into the gutter as your run for your life from the cops.