Friday, November 16, 2018


Many years ago, I was very curious about pot.  I had kids, but I didn't want to ask them for it, not that my kids would ever use it!!  I called my niece in San Francisco & asked if she could help me. She invited me up for the weekend & said she would be my supplier.  Delicate thing that I am, her boyfriend had to cut the filter tips off of my regular (legal) cigarettes & attach them to the joint.  My niece, her boyfriend & I were peacefully smoking some pot & talking when I suddenly realized something strange; I couldn't remember what had been said the last couple of seconds!!  It would come to me, but I had to wait for it.  It made for a very odd (& slow) conversation. I never tried it again.  I've since had no desire to try any other mind altering drugs, except alcohol.  I do like me some margaritas and/or wine!!

One more fishducky smoking fact: My ears were constantly popping (like when you’re on a plane, but I wasn’t on a plane) so I went to see an ENT.   He said my Eustachian tubes were blocked, cleaned them out & inserted some tubing to keep them open for a while.  He asked me if I smoked & I told him I did.  He said that he had another patient with the same condition.  The doctor said that it wasn’t a good idea, but that the guy won bar bets because of his ear problem.  You’ve heard the expression, “Blow it out your ear”?  Well, he--& I--could!  With our tubes, we just had to inhale some smoke, close our mouth, pinch our nose shut & blow.  Smoke would come out of our ears!  I only tried it once or twice--I had to show Bud (& myself) I could really do it.

The history of marijuana (According to quora.com.):

Once upon a time there was a band of cave dudes and dudettes just wandering around looking for stuff to eat (this was before convenience stores were invented). They decided to stop for the night beside a nice river because there were some tasty crawdads in the shallow water, easy to catch, you know.
Well, after they ate their fill of the little crustaceans they settled down to rest. One of the cave dudes had eaten a bunch of habañero peppers that morning for breakfast and had a bit of an upset stomach. He got up and tiptoed away from the group (up wind - he was a bit of an ass and wanted to share with the rest) pulled down his loin cloth and deposited what was left of the peppers into a patch of some very nice plants with long, sticky buds hanging all around.
Well, it turns out that the pepper poop wasn’t finished working. It laid there generating more and more heat until the patch of plants burst into flames. The slight breeze propelled the smoke toward and through the campsite and, before they could get good and awake, all the cave folks got a potent dose of the smoke. Instead of running away, screaming like little girls, which is usually what they did when they saw fire, they just sat there breathing deeply and smiling.
One of the smarter cave dudes put 1 and 1 together and got 3 (arithmetic is hard when you’re stoned!). But he realized the value of what they had discovered so he invented rolling papers and plastic sandwich bags and got filthy rich selling the pot (that’s what they ended up calling it because that’s what Mr. Pepper Butt should have been sitting on instead of crapping in the weed (pun intended)). They already had on smelly clothes and their hair was long so this was the first generation of hippies.