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Dawn Of The Closet Potheads

It seems like many of us are still smoking weed in the bathroom with the door toweled, the fan on and the window open. Those days of stealth and subterfuge are over for me because I have stepped into the light and become an Apostle of Pot, a sanctified Pottist if you will, for I have the celebrated medical marijuana card.

A quick recap: riding accident in 2009, broken sacrum, intractable nerve pain that is all too legit, hence the medical marijuana card.

I started smoking weed when I was freshman in high school because I thought it would make me cooler. It did.

Eventually I got over my adolescent obsession with pot, and even quit smoking it entirely because periodically, my cohorts and I would be subjected to random “whizz quizzes” in a company-wide initiative to prevent life-threatening graphic design accidents.

I continued to steer clear of pot because the idea of getting busted by my kids, or by the local police, was a bit of a deal breaker. But mostly I wanted to model good behavior for the boys. Of course, that has all gone out the window, and the jig is up. Not only that, but after spending something like three years looking for another design gig as good as the one that was outsourced to China, I gave up and became a writer, which renders me officially unemployable.

When I dissolved in a blubbering heap at my orthopedist’s office last March complaining that I was turning into an alcoholic because of the pain in my back and leg, he suggested I give medical marijuana a try. Alcoholism and prescription drug abuse was a huge issue in my family, so I am overly cautious with pharmaceuticals and alcohol.  I have been managing my pain with strenuous daily workouts, fish oil, turmeric, an inversion table, the occasional NSAID and weed.

After securing my card, I turned my attention to finding what the state tactfully calls a “caregiver.” I thought this would take some time, but once I put the word out, the names kept pouring in. I finally chose someone and offered myself up to him as a patient. In Rhode Island, a caregiver can grow 12 plants for 5 patients. Or maybe it’s 5 plants for 12 patients. I can’t remember. In any case, it is more pot than I would ever smoke in a lifetime.

I explained to my caregiver that I wanted a strain with more cannabis and less setiva. Or maybe it was more setiva and less cannabis. I can’t remember. In any case, he recommended Vortex, a wonderful strain of pot that you can smoke and still be fully functional on. Not only that, but under the right circumstances, Vortex can induce pee-in-your-pants, laugh-until-you-cry fits of laughter.

Your basic, old school chamber pipe

Back when I was just a budding pothead, you had your ZigZag rolling papers, your schwag, your standard issue pipe, and your basic bong. Today, there is a veritable Xanadu of paraphernalia available to the modern pot smoker, as well as some robust apps for your smartphone to help you find the best kush for what ails you.

In fact, since stepping out of the shadowy underworld of closeted adult pot smokers, I discovered that rather than remain stagnant, the paraphernalia industry now accounts for a large part of our country’s GDP.

Today there are vaporizers for those of us who are athletically inclined  and mindful of our lungs, grinders for the less fortunate who do not have access to fresh, gooey home-grown, and bongs that you can smoke without feeling like you are performing fellatio in front of your friends. There are hemp and rice papers so that you can avoid ingesting dioxin, and little lipstick shaped stash boxes for faking out your kids. Despite these marvelous innovations, my go-to device is the tried and true cigarette bat for the discrete smoker.

The obvious choice for discrete smoking

While looking for an app that would let me track my chronic pain in preparation for a series of epidurals, I had the idea to search for a pot app. I was not expecting to find more than a couple, but  I found dozens of them. I chose one from leafly.com.

When I showed the app to my caregiver he said that if there was something specific I wanted him to grow, he would try to cultivate it. So, I went onto Leafly.com and used the following filters: “pain” and “anxiety,” with the effects “uplifted”  and “aroused” (hell, why not?).  Atomic Northern Lights was the only strain to appear, but when I removed “anxiety” from the mix two more strains appeared— Avalon and Double D.

Using the properties “lazy” and “sleepy” I was able to see what strains of kush are popular with congress.

With the aid of the app I finally deduced what strains teenage boys prefer by entering the effects “lazy”, “hungry” and “sleepy”.  As it turns out, their tastes tend toward  A-train, Darth Vader, Deep Purple, and Purple Hashplant.

To learn more about what members of congress are smoking these days, I applied the same metrics as I used on the teenaged boys but removed “hungry.” There were too many strains  to list, so I just took a screen shot instead.

For you ladies plagued by PMS, be sure to have either Banana Candy, Chocolate Chunk, Neptune Kush or Woody Kush in your pharmacopeia. You will be transformed from “homicidal” and “feral” to “uplifted” and “tingly.”

My experience with medical marijuana has been beneficial. I am a jock, or rather, I was a jock until my nitwit of a horse spooked at a a cricket. Since then, I have never been the same. Ever since the nerve thing started a year ago, I have had to come to terms with the idea that unless I work out really hard in the gym every day, my left leg will shrivel up.  This has been quite an adjustment. The pot doesn’t get rid of the pain the way exercise does, it just adjusts my attitude so that I can deal with it better, and  attitude is everything. Vortex also helps me sleep more comfortably, and sleep is everything, too.

Someday, when I am able bodied once again, I would like to advance to High Priestess of Pot and try my hand at growing the holy sacrament for those who need it. Let us not lose site of the fact that Rhode Island was founded on the principle of religious freedom by Roger Williams in 1641.

Related links: http://www.bakedlife.com/


4 comments

1 ping

  1. Linton Robinson says:

    You drug fiends will all burn in a sinners hell until you are nothing but charred roaches!

    1. admin says:

      At least there will be no fecal leakage.

  2. June O'Hara says:

    You are a very talented writer. Let it shine, baby!

    1. admin says:

      Thank you!

  1. The story of the treacherous and misleading boots | The Flip Side says:

    […] two semes­ters of high school, and the com­ing of Rhode Island win­ter months, I par­took of The Vortex. Suitably altered, I turned to My Royal Consort and pestered him until he put down his Sudoku and […]

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