According to a group of official squares that claim to be "government drug experts," analysis from seized bricks of sweet sticky marijuana showed that the funk kids are dunking their heads into is fiercer than ever. Something called the Marijuana Potency Project at the University of Mississippi rolled up these gargantuan honkers of funk and once the fog cleared and the machines went beep, the data revealed that THC, the oxygen for all hopheads, has risen from 7 percent in 2003 to 8.5 in 2006. Apparently in 1988, for any stoneski who can remember back that far, the level was at 3.5 percent. Now, if you are as toasted as my brain is telling my hands to type that I am, math is the furthest thing that I want to tackle. Maybe if math were a bag of chips, we could tear it up.
The dopers, nay, doctors who work in their lab, er, carpeted basement with black light posters blasting Zeppelin on the stereo, huffed and puffed and exhaled and detailed figures and numbers on nearly 60,000 cannabis samples, 1,200 hashish samples, 440 hash oil samples, that have all been legally snatched by weapon wearing storm troopers since 1975.
Its no secret that my mind doesn't work so well, on account of the drugs, but the excuse I give to my parents is that I live in Seattle, where all kids are creative wastoids. It's mandatory. Seattle is a light skip from Portland, which is in Oregon, where according to this really groovy report, the "highest" concentration of THC found in a sample was 33.12. Hashish and hash oil have a far greater level but lets face it, shit is hard to come by and a little pricier than the herbage, which is what I continued to smoke as I read.
Did you know that there is something called the National Drug Control Policy? Me neither. Apparently John Walters, the joint's director, said that current burners are firing up "Pot 2.0." And get this; cannabis has active ingredients very close to that of vital brain chemicals called endogenous cannabinoids.
So like, we're smoking our brains, literally. Science doesn't lie. You know who lies? Your dealer when he says he'll be home and when you call, he's out with his girlfriend. What a dick. Wait, where was I? Ah yes, I was just about to bitch and rant about how much the money the United States spends each year on arming soldiers to legally steal marijuana that took me like a week to get, because my dealer is a space cadet speed freak, who never answers his cell. And once all of the felons are stuffed into overcrowded jails, we, I assume our federal or state taxes, pay more people to "experiment" with brain blowing drugs, only to knock out some statistics that do everything but explain anything at all.
"This report underscores that we are no longer talking about the drug of the 1960s and 1970s," John Walters, the director of the National Drug Control Policy said in this article that Reuters pumped into the retinas of all global citizens. Really? Do we need to pay this guy to tell us that modern day buds aren't as dirty and dried out as the skunk our parents huffed when protesting the Vietnam War? Do we need an analysis stating that engineered plants, harvested in laboratories by seriously smart stoners, can now fuck your thinker up even more than before? And is this shocking revelation supposed to SCARE me into quitting or stop a pristine set of pink lungs from starting? If anything, the rotten croakers have officially congratulated the efforts of mad smoke scientists, whose substantial work in horticulture appears to be worthy of the Nobel Prize.
After downloading the interesting data and fear propaganda into my brain, I totally scarfed down this really huge plate of Hummus with baked pita, and then, before making use of my 4-foot cherry red Graffix, I shot a resume to the Marijuana Potency Project. As official weedologist for The Tripwire, it would be beneficial for all parties if I were to personally test out this Pot 2.0 in a respected medical environment under the supervision of certified experts. Yes, to be paid to bake. Now that's the American Dream.