THE_LEGENDARY_HQB

I voted regularly.

The story behind my sudden conversion to the world of marijuana is quite interesting.

I grew up in Tewksbury, Mass., a town with nothing much to do other than smoke and drink. Everyone around me smoked.
How much weed did these guys puff? How about an ounce every 2 days! {that's over 100 dollars of weed}. We called stoners "yadudes", after their favourite saying.
I tried it. Multiple times. I got hardcore cotton mouth. I coughed. My lungs ached. And after that...nothing. Zip. El zilcho.
I pretty much gave up on the stuff after that.
Fast forward 8 years, to last summer. I was offered some hits of KB. We're talking dayglow raver green shit.
At first, I didn't think the stuff had worked. Then, I realized that my feet were beginning to float off the ground. HOLY SHIT!
I sat outside, completely obliterated, for 3 hours. I realised something was amiss when I seriously began to question wether I was dreaming or not. All around me, sounds were blending into an audial mush. After that, I became a "weekend warrior"

For all of you who have never tried weed, and some snapperhead comes by and tells you, "dude, this shit makes you so smart, man! You think about crazy assed shit!" laugh at them...for HQB. The only thing I have ever really pondered while stoned is where exactly the "universal buzz" comes from. Yes, make no mistake about it, ladies and gentlemen.

SMOKING POT MAKES YOU A DROOLING MONGOLOID!

That having been said, I find pot to be far superior to booze. Though it isn't exactly pleasant, it doesn't taste nearly as raunchy as beer, wine, or hard liquor, you don't ger violent, and the comedown is a lot gentler {no hangover}.

If consumed in reasonable quantities, marijuana is completely harmless, IMHO. I have never experienced any lasting effects from it. However, like everything else in life, there are always people who take a perfectly good thing and abuse it. Thus we get the classic "yadude", forever vigilant against unseen narcs and cops, constantly prattling on about useless shit that he thinks is profound, etc.

Finally, as a service to all of you who have never smoked a doobie, I give you some of my compositions. I love writing surrealist, nonsensical stories when I'm sober {see the thread in Elsewhere entitled "Infidels: how bizzare can you get" for some examples}. When I'm baked, however, I lose all concentration, and go from one subject to another without even realising it.
In fact, sometimes I completely forget the original point of the story. All spelling errors, type-os, grammatical abherrations, and just general absurdity have been faithfully preserved.

The child cried, uncontrollably, as the screams of "yo Ratboy!" eminated from our friendly neighborhood homies, friendly however, not in the traditional Mr. Rogeresque Paradigm, but rather, friendly in a style more reminiscient of social norms in 13th century Persian aristocracy the wonderful thing about the current-ality of species within a somewhat unorthodox Quasi-Darwinian methodology, which conformed quite nicely to the chivalric code practiced by certain subgroups of 1950's Chevrolet Dealers, those, of course who were unaware that that their company was doomed, now that they realized that Ford was run by aliens.

And:

I hear 80's music in the background. Quite annoying, in its synth pop pretentiousness, but yet in my, er, altered state find it deviliciously delicious, delicious kind of like certain types of passionfruit shakes drunk by Keanu Reeves and Chris Rock, one of whom was know for his rather haphazard acting schools, the other for his biting yet deliciously commentary on race relations, relations which, though they may not be the best but can be proven to be improving because many white people drink passionfruit drinks, once considered the savages beverage is now considered an essential part of American dietary habbits, but at least for me they are, but, as I write this letter, can be directly corrolated to this weird ass dub shit they're playing in the background. Damn, now I'm completely stoned, gonzo, kaput, bye bye, and I want to go to Jamaica. Bastards!

Repsect, duuuuuuuuuuuuuuudes!
HQB

Putney Swope

But without weed, life can become an "unleased subconcious". Case in point, Dubya's administration. Just imagine how much nicer John Ashcroft would be if he copped a nice buzz. He might want to take down that drape from the statue so we can all see her fine thang.

Powell would have done a rap at the UN if he had toked up first.

If Harvey Pitt got high in the stairwell at the SEC, he might still be in charge.

How about if Cheney smoked a bong during the State of the Union address, then passed it to Frist (for medical reasons only).

AquaVita

I concur.

I never have...don't have much of a desire to. I figure that if I need an external stimulant to get myself going at a party or social setting, then I'm too boring and need to work on my personality.

elanah

Have never had the inclination to. Same goes for other drugs and alcohol. Life is interesting enough already.

Thanatoast

Twice.

It never really peaked my interest. It was neither wonderfully pleasurable nor dismally painful. Just an experience that was, IMO, "no big whoop".