Head Shops

It Seems to Me

Dispatches from the Highlands

News from CannaTown
Printed bi-monthly in CANNAPAGES Print directory
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Ya see all these durn youngsters dabbin’ and purgin and twerkin all over the place, makes ya sick. In my day, we had a piece of paper and the bud. That was it. You rolled 'er up and if some dirt or grass got in there, well, you smaked it, dad-gummit. We’d keep all our roaches to roll up in a massive roachie spliff, I tell you what, and then we even kept that roach! Times was tough, is all I’m sayin’. 

Then ya hear about these young folk with their glass rigs and torches and shit? Well, in my day we made our bongs out of bottles and cans, fruit, whatever we could find…one of the key accomplishments of my youth was the construction of a two-barrel garbage can bong made with two new bins from Homie Depot. Those were the days. Chiefin’ hash out of whatever contraptions could be built from everyday household parts... doing knifies in the kitchen over the ol’ gas stove. Hot boxin’ in the closets and cramped stair wells. Waking up in a haze daze with last night’s pizza still in the oven. Ya wonder what kind of fancy couches them young’uns camp out on while they chief -- probably a chaise lounge? Lordy. In my day we fell asleep under the stars! On the rocks! We let the durn’ bugs crawl into our clothes because we had no blankets, or shelter. Also, we had no food around because everyone always had the munchies so bad. Gad, what a fantastically awful time it all was. Even though I don’t remember it, I miss it.

A young miser came up to me just the other day and asked if I wanted to Vape. Vape! Speak English, I told him, I’ll have Scottie beam me up to the Death Star and smake a Hash Vaperilizer with George Orwell, I said. The man asked if I still wanted his wax. Wax? It was earwax, he said. I didn’t know what it was but he said it was potent so I got some, either way. Wax! Well here I am, probably time to get a cellular telephone too, damn generation, draggin me into the future as I kick and scream. That’s the way I see it, mm-hmm.

 

Raymond Halvorson is a regular guest at the bus stop at 43rd and Ganj Ave. where he feeds the pigeons. 

 

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