not fruity English yogurt, that's vile. proper greek/turkish yogurt and it will prime you an assassin.
The cannabis debate
- Thread starter Mr. Tea
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not fruity English yogurt, that's vile. proper greek/turkish yogurt and it will prime you an assassin.
Murphy
cat malogen
eaten eighths/4g’s of different hashish before it all went to shit, mostly with doogh, the taste belies the walloping
10g’s you probably could go the full old man of the mountain, plot a revolution, build an assassination network in idea place and supplant to real life
if you use anything to shield yourself off from your demons and meditating on the divine, it guarantees accelerating inevitable mental and physical health compromises
Mr. Tea
Let's Talk About Ceps
ethanjones
New member
Hey chef, I’m getting into this side of cannabis, and this recipe looks yummy. Going to try it soon. Thanks.
dirty hippy.
Mr. Tea
Let's Talk About Ceps
Says Mr '10 grams of hash in yoghurt'!
Mr. Tea
Let's Talk About Ceps
Look I'm not against the aims of hippies necessarily. I'm against their methods. Instead of psychedelia the method to enlightenment must be (psycho)delia.
shakahislop
Well-known member
yeah i have the same feeling. it's striking, at least. i don't think it's a bad thing but i guess particularly in this 'post-legalisation but pre-legalisation' period we're in in nyc, it is basically weird that you can go to the park and buy spliffs off of random geezers selling them from a table. but then i still find it weird coming across streets of weed shops in LA.
shakahislop
Well-known member
great first comment on that article
I remember crossing Washington Square Park one night in the winter of 1978 after a heavy snowfall had left 8 or so inches of fresh snow everywhere. I didn’t want to walk around and decided to take my usual diagonal route despite there being no one in the poorly-lit park. Shortly after walking 10 yards with my sneakers quickly proven to be ill-suited for the traverse, I saw 2 guys legging their way towards me from opposite ends of the park. They were, I soon realized, the only 2 dealers who stuck it out during the semi-blizzard, and I was the only customer they’d seen for a long time, judging by the lack of footprints in the snow. Apparently neither had taken up the then-new running fad so the usual melodious chant of “smoke and coke” came out as muffled panting. Both arrived at the same time near the fountain but, shortly thereafter, their usual competitive bluster was replaced by mirrored looks of disgust mingled with pathos. Without stopping (I knew that much) I had ducked my head and shrugged to indicate that I wasn’t buying, just passing through. Since neither had the cheery attitude of today’s pot purveyors, I picked up speed, leaving the dealers in the night’s swirling snow. Trudging on towards my illegal Stuy Town sublet, I felt bad to disappoint them but my budget didn’t include drugs of dubious origin or, worse, uncertain efficacy. Good to know that progress has come to Washington Square Park.
I remember crossing Washington Square Park one night in the winter of 1978 after a heavy snowfall had left 8 or so inches of fresh snow everywhere. I didn’t want to walk around and decided to take my usual diagonal route despite there being no one in the poorly-lit park. Shortly after walking 10 yards with my sneakers quickly proven to be ill-suited for the traverse, I saw 2 guys legging their way towards me from opposite ends of the park. They were, I soon realized, the only 2 dealers who stuck it out during the semi-blizzard, and I was the only customer they’d seen for a long time, judging by the lack of footprints in the snow. Apparently neither had taken up the then-new running fad so the usual melodious chant of “smoke and coke” came out as muffled panting. Both arrived at the same time near the fountain but, shortly thereafter, their usual competitive bluster was replaced by mirrored looks of disgust mingled with pathos. Without stopping (I knew that much) I had ducked my head and shrugged to indicate that I wasn’t buying, just passing through. Since neither had the cheery attitude of today’s pot purveyors, I picked up speed, leaving the dealers in the night’s swirling snow. Trudging on towards my illegal Stuy Town sublet, I felt bad to disappoint them but my budget didn’t include drugs of dubious origin or, worse, uncertain efficacy. Good to know that progress has come to Washington Square Park.
