Ha. That’s my backdrop for the new DeSantis column. I’m cracking up. Let me give you the origin.
This pic of some clearly midwestern Karen on Reddit. With a shirt, “you may call him Ron, but I just call him Daddy”. Why in the fuck the state of Indiana cares about Daddy, dunno, but it’s had me cracking up for weeks. What a true fucking clueless bitch.
So, I’m going into a rabbit hole for the next couple of days. I recently reconnected with someone, y’all may remember. Do y’all remember when I was seeing the weed chef? You know, the High Times Cup holder? Well, he’s in town this weekend, but he is bringing with him (no, not a bunch of weed, you still can’t just tote it around like that) a story.
Here’s something I should have already known, but I guess I never really thought about, and I can’t believe I didn’t. I’ve talked of my days in pills before, plenty of times. We all know I have a serious background in Big Pharma, and it nearly killed me.
It’s a ruthless world, I’m a woman. If you don’t understand how fucking mean I really am, go advertise for about 10 minutes that you have pills and watch the type of scum who come to your door and try to a) hustle it from you b) steal it from you or c) arrest you for it, and I ain’t talking the good version of a cop.
Never, though, did I stop and think about the women in weed. The industry has gone from all hippie to half hustle, and it has drawn some shady folks. I have personally met a few, and I’ve heard lots of stories, because Chef has been around since the inception of the legalization movement. And many of those shady folk have money. Investment money. Open a little business and women with tattoos in bikinis money.
And now we have problems. We have drugs and money equating to power problems. I guess because I affiliate weed with granola, I never stopped to think about the dudes walking around pot farms with AK’s (just saw one yesterday, refreshed my memory), or any of the other craziness that happens when you have a freshly legal industry that still has a lot of cocaine cowboy ties.
Anyway, that leads me to today. I feel like there’s a whole lot to say there, and if I wasn’t listening, maybe a bunch of clueless ass people weren’t either. It just wasn’t anything I thought about. Like, okay, great, smoke weed, I don’t care, I just really don’t care much for it because I like to go the other way. If I have less than 15 cups of coffee in a day, I’m not feeling well. If they ever legalize phen-fen again, y’all can kiss me good-bye because I’ll have a heart attack within the first hour of having my prescription filled.
I have nothing against the weed movement. I find it much better than alcohol, that’s coming from a 20 year bartender. What’s a pothead gonna do? Sit at a stop sign and wait for it to turn green? Drive slowly in the passing lane with 311 blasting in the car? None of that bothers me in the least. I’ve lost so many people to drunk drivers, and drunk biking, I can’t even count anymore.
But, there’s another side to the industry, and it ain’t filled with weed gummies and blunts. It’s filled with people with nasty intentions, and the money necessary to do shady shit. I like stumbling upon shady shit, because it makes my cape silk tingle.
So, I’m putting my arm bangles on, and I’m going to go see what kind of mid-grade nonsense I can find. God help me, if I catch a contact buzz, I’ll need a nap. I don’t know how these goddam Scooby and Shaggy type of folk do this shit. Maybe I’m defective. Thinking about pouring my coffee in a Camelbak just to stave off the effects…
I’ll see y’all after the smoke clears.
Love-
Q
I’m with you sis. People in my life have been really fucking rotten and I’m taking some time off too. Love you
Unfortunately nothing’s okay. As much as I appreciate the nail gun and gas can, I’m going to need to distance myself from someone who I thought loved me deeply. This is going to hurt for a long, long time but it is what it is. Love you