High Tea with Carlton Milhouse, Edition 3

High Tea w Carlton Milhous

 

Good afternoon! The clock on the wall says it’s 4:20. If it’s Sunday that means it is High Tea with me, Carlton Milhouse. Your botanist. So, if you haven’t already, prepare your tea and your greenery and we shall begin.

Last week I had the good fortune to be joined by Celestial Wilde and we completed the High Tea recap of 2018. Our final conclusion was….meh. This week, however, I am solo in studio and am partaking of some Evergreen Dream. This is a delightful sativa in a nearly emerald green fluff with hints of balsam and cedar. It’s a real Rocky Mountain high. After sampling some it put me in mind of some Rocky Mountain history and some of my earliest encounters with Ford Wenty, the Ale 81 Inn field correspondent.

I first met Ford a little over ten years ago when my botanical enterprises were still in their infancy. In those years I regularly made the long runs from northern New Mexico, through Colorado and on, all the way to Montana and back again. We first became acquainted through an associate of mine, Javier, under less than conventional circumstances. Not at any time since can I say that any subsequent encounters with the man have even approached conventional.

He no longer travels as extensively as he once did. I did have occasion to meet with him fairly recently, however, at an “undisclosed” location. I’m going to take advantage of this edition of High Tea to share with you my lasting takeaway from the latest encounter.

I met him at the agreed upon hour at a park and ride lot for ride sharing, right off of the interstate. There were no other vehicles in the small gravel lot but his nondescript rental sedan. I pulled up beside him, shut off the engine and locked up as I got out to head to the passenger door of his car. The windows were all up, tinted to reveal nothing, but the aroma of weed was unmistakable. As anticipated I was greeted with a sweet cloud upon opening the door and getting in.

Most people are afraid of this man. It gives some hope for the human race to know this: maybe some people have more sense than we give them credit for. He scares me. Still. Not in a Freddy Krueger or homicidal killer in the room sort of way. It’s the unpredictability of the man. Sadly this trait is exhibited very strongly in his driving, but our ride that day was relatively short.

We were headed to a breakfast diner, fifteen miles or so away. On the way he smoked me up with some premium bud and launched right into a really strange topic. This is one of those disturbing elements about Ford. Often meeting with him, especially for strangers who have not been introduced previously, there is the absence of any of the traditional niceties or introductions. He proceeds directly into whatever occupies the front of his mind at the time. If you have known him a while you must always be prepared that he may resume some conversation that he may have had with you weeks or even months before. This fortunately wasn’t the case on this trip, but even in his most lucid moments Ford can be difficult to follow.

“Hey Carlton! You know anything about silent films?”

“Uhh…a little bit. I guess.”

“Okay. You ever heard of Sergei Eisenstein?”

“Uh, no. That’s not one I know. I know a couple of the really old German ones, you know, like Nosferatu and Metropolis. And like old Charlie Chaplin movies, but no. Never heard of that dude.”

“Yeah, Eisenstein was like the Soviet Union’s Leni Riefenstahl…”

“Who?”

“Oh…never mind. He was a propaganda filmmaker for the Soviets.”

“Okay, what about him?”

“Back in the mid to late eighties Laurie Anderson did a brilliant multi-media arts presentation adapting Eisenstein’s famous film The Battleship Potemkin. You should check it out. Sure you can find it on the web somewhere.”

“Which?”

“What?”

“I mean which one, the Laurie Anderson thing or the actual movie?”

“Oh, uh…the Laurie Anderson thing, but yeah…the movie too. Yeah we are approaching a Battleship Potemkin moment, Carlton. You know that, right?”

He gave me one of those looks over his glasses that really makes me nervous. I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about and so I did, as I have done before in these cases, simply nod, laugh nervously and agree with it. Whatever it is. “Yup. Heh-heh….sure are.”

When we got to the diner Ford ordered his usual special, Heart Attack on a Plate, with two eggs, hash browns, bacon and biscuits: all smothered in sausage gravy. Service was fast and the chow was good. We were completely baked so almost anything would have been good, but this place like most that he seems to find was a jewel. Over breakfast he shared with me his latest project.

“I’m doing a study on tolerance.”

“Tolerance?”

“Yeah, tolerance. What does it actually mean? How are we defining it? You know, because it seems like the definition is changing. Either that or there are a lot of people misusing the term.”

“Okay, Ford. How do you mean?”

“Right. Let’s just take this diner as an example. Fifty years ago a patron here complained to the owner because he allowed blacks to sit at the counter. The customer was very loud about it too, you know. He was almost shouting Hey, I don’t wanna have to sit next to no fuckin’ niggers. The owner says, alright asshole! Get outta my store! Yay! Everybody cheers.”

He paused here to doctor the refill on his coffee. I didn’t say a word. I knew he wasn’t done.

“Then thirty years ago everybody starts whining about second hand smoke. The owner tells all his smoking customers , Nope! Sorry, can’t smoke here anymore. Yay! Everybody cheers. Twenty years ago? A customer starts bitching because the owner has allowed one of those faggot couples into  the diner. The dumbass is wailing, Yer goin’ to hell for lettin’ them faggots come in here! The owner says, you get the hell out of my store! Yay! Everybody cheers.”

Another pause there, for emphasis? I guess?

“Ten years ago…..you get one of these painfully obvious transgenders. Wants to use the ladies room, right? Shouldn’t be a big deal, you know, but some patrons had to make a fuss over it. What does the owner do? He brands the complainers as haters and he tells ’em they can leave too. Yay! Everybody cheers.”

Ford stopped here and proceeded to attack the remainder of his plate with vigor. After several minutes he gave no sign of resuming his rant. I was left to form my own conclusions, which is often the case with Ford. I am usually more confused than when the conversation began, only slowly beginning to understand later what he may have been saying.

A burly looking character emerged from the back of the kitchen hailing Ford at the counter. Ford responded and the two chatted for a couple of minutes. No introductions were offered, but I gathered from the brief exchange that he was speaking with the owner and that this was actually the establishment’s last day in business. A short time later Ford settled the bill and with no lingering sentiment or long goodbyes we left the diner. I still wasn’t certain what all that had been about in there. Once seated back in the car Ford concluded.

” A few months ago a customer came into that diner wearing a MAGA hat. The owner got really pissed off and insisted that the customer leave.”

He stopped there, but that didn’t fit with the rest of the narrative. So I volunteered ” Yay! Everybody cheered?”

“No Carlton, not this time. There just wasn’t anybody left to cheer. This tolerance is a funny thing, you know?”

I think I know what he meant, but I’ve been wrong before. Maybe some of you have ideas of your own. Let us hear what you think.

Well, that’s our High Tea for this week. Until next time, I’m Carlton Milhouse, your botanist. Stay stoned my friends!

High Tea with Carlton Milhouse, edition 2

High Tea w Carlton Milhous

Greetings all. This is High Tea with Carlton Milhouse. Your botanist. This is our second edition of High Tea and this week I am much better prepared. So please prepare your tea and your greenery and we’ll begin.

As for myself today I will be partaking of a lovely sativa, Stardog G-13. I have absolutely no idea what Stardog G-13 is supposed to mean, or if it is even supposed to mean anything at all, but….I can tell you it’s some good shit. Now from our rather impromptu inaugural outing last week we posed the question: 2018 SUCK or NOT suck. This week’s edition will complete the theme and hopefully answer the question. About sucking. Or not.

I had provided just my initial, gut responses in both categories of things which did or did not suck about 2018. When you look at my list from last week there is a mix in both categories of things that were just general, as in public matters, or more personal in that it only related to my own experience. In the responses received from some of our readers I noted a similar mix. I also noted that the balance of the general/personal responses told an awful lot about those giving the response.

One of the most striking responses provided came from a reader named Frank. Under the SUCK category Frank listed pain. All of it; his personal physical and emotional pain, that of others near to him and the pain in the plight of humanity globally.  Frank, I dig where you are coming from, but brother you are carrying a heavy load. So we’ll talk about it. When we come back later for the extended edition of High Tea.

It’s 4:20!

one NFL Wild Card Round playoff game later….

Okay, so it is now later. Uh, full disclosure….I was better prepared this week, but being a lifelong Packers fan I could not fail in my duty to cheer the demise of those no-goodniks from Chicago. Now we also have Celestial Wilde in the house. Celeste, why don’t you say hello to all dem good peoples?

Hello good peoples.

Thanks for joining us this evening. So what do you think about this Stardog? Are you stoned?

Baked to a crackly crunch my friend.

That’s what I like to hear. Okay, so Celeste? We are definitely going to talk some more later. Can you hang around with us?

Will there be green?

Yes. Plenty of green.

Okay, I’m down. Go.

Alright, so we’ll pick up on our final verdict for 2018 then. I mentioned earlier the differences in the balance of personal and general responses. This was true in both the suck and no suck categories and no matter how I have come at this thing, it keeps coming back to a judgement not of the year, rather of the respondents. And it made me think more about my own initial reactions to the question.So lets review some of the responses and then I want to come back to our friend Frank.

Last week I listed my top suck entries as: the national news media, a loud mouthed braggart president, Washington DC, all of these fucking ads!, Facebook and the passing of both Mark E. Smith and Aretha Franklin. The first four are clearly general things which affect a lot of people, not just me. The last two are also general in the sense that I am hardly the only person who laments the passing of those two great artists. I will still, however, consider these as being personal in nature because there has been a personal severance between the artist and my appreciation for them and their work. Facebook? Same thing really. They undoubtedly suck, but that is true for many besides myself. It is a personal choice for me: I simply don’t participate in Facebook.

Now in the non suck column I listed: Adult Swim, a loud mouthed braggart president, a successful fourth generation of hybrids,Bartok the Bat (Jeff Sessions) leaving as US AG, business is good and finally tax cuts. For starters: Adult Swim. What else really needs to be said? It’s a personal thing, but there are millions of us. Okay, well….at least a few hundred thousand. The prez….again. Again, its a general thing and it is both suck and non suck. It only depends who you ask. The successful fourth generation of hybrids Blue Velvet, The Presidential Cheese and Flowering Dogweed are all great personal accomplishments in my own endeavors. Sessions leaving is another general thing and it definitely does NOT suck that he is leaving. An attorney general who insists on carrying on the bull shit war on drugs status quo while sitting on his hands over real crimes in Washington? Good riddance! Finally on the last pair, the economy and tax cuts, these are both general. I can say unreservedly though that on a personal level I have certainly benefited.

Even though some of the things listed are indisputably general in nature, when the reasoning for entering the case is based upon personal affect this makes four of the six. In the suck category the general category dominated with four of seven.

We found some trends of a similar nature in our responses. A representative sampling of our top ten:

Jeff –  Jeff’s submission was a list of things that did NOT suck only. All of these were personal. Jeff is from the Midwest

Cliff – Cliff’s submission was a list of things that all sucked. All of these were general. Cliff is from North Jersey/NYC Metro

Junior –  Junior submitted a nearly unintelligible tangent from which we could find two things that he apparently believes suck. Project cost overruns in the state of California and Trump. Junior lives on a Unicorn farm outside of San Diego.

Michael –  Only submitted a suck vote and it was an individual – no, it was not Trump. We think Michael was just trying to be funny

The OG –  Oggie is from the UK. His suck list was primarily the loss of artists, Brexit and Trump. His non suck list was all personal successes of the year

Leroy – Leroy thought the major suckage for 2018 was the #MeToo movement and the stock market. Non suck was? The jobs market/economy.  Leroy is from Illinois.

Mustafa –  Mustafa gave us a full list of both suck and non suck and all of his were general in nature. Cryptocurrency and the political process in general were all suckers in his book, and his non suck entries were also regarding policy matters, in particular withdrawal from various conflicts. Mustafa is from the desert southwest.

Jim –  Not sure where Jim is from but he is a member in good standing of Stoner Nation. Jim’s suck list was all general including the political process, disasters and war. Jim’s not suck list involved retirement, arts and entertainment on a personal level and a Democrat victory in the House elections as a more general thing

I’m winding down here and I’m going to come to the aforementioned Frank as part of our conclusion, but as promised we are going to get some input from Celeste.

Ok,ok, Carlton, you get me here, you get me stoned as fuck then ask me to think?!? Thanks a lot my friend, but ok, here goes. I personally worked way too much in 2018, missed my entire summer….not even one chance to go skinny dipping, so yeah, that sucked big balls.  On a positive note Kieth Richards and Bob Dylan made it through another 365 days…..kids these days don’t realize how important of a thing that is….but that is a whole different conversation….spark up another bowl Carlton, mamas on a roll…..

Legalization in North America made great strides in 2018. Ten states made marijuana legal this year. I personally was shocked by the Vermont legalization, suddenly makes me want to go there, even though its really cold. That can be seen only as a NOT suck very much. Even if you are not lucky enough to live in a state that has recently legalized, there is a movement afoot. It is now a conversation that people are willing to have, as opposed to the days and times that created classic films like ,”Refer Madness”, no one misses those good old days. So broad spread legalization, and forward movement on socially accepted cannabis use, not suck…

I personally hit a milestone birthday this year, not gonna say which one, but its a biggie. Its a suck/ not suck…..glad to have been given so many fine years  to party with all of you and see the awesome strides that have been made in the strength and potency of marijuana, thank you Carlton. But do keep working on that strain that completely gets rid of the paranoia thing, Ill keep the munchies, but that other part can go.

Damn dude…Im fucking baked…what were we talking about?

Oh yeah, suck and not suck….I did some sucking in 2018, but not in Seattle. Do you know that 2018 was the year that Seattle Washington made plastic straws illegal? Are you fucking kidding me? Obviously none of you have ever worked in a restaurant before. I don’t know who used this cup/glass before me, and I’ve seen the care and time that an angry dishwasher takes during a Saturday night rush, and you want me to put my bare lips on that? I’d rather suck Trump’s dick, and don’t nobody know where that thing has been. The only way it is hygienically safe to do away with plastic straws is to start serving all drinks in disposable cups, and now we have just added to the nightmare that all you Eco warriors live in on a daily basis…must suck to be you. I’m going out now and buying a case of plastic straws before they are illegal. I like to go out to dine, but am not willing to take my life in  my own hands to do so. How about I just avoid Seattle for a while…..

Speaking of sucking…no Carlton, you are not getting that lucky, but why don’t you load up the gravitation bong whilst I reminisce about 2018…..Not as many sexual partners as I would have liked there to be, 2017 was a banner year for me. I guess I can chalk that up to the work thing again……………..

What was I saying…..oh yeah…is that thing ready to hit yet, Ill give you folks back to Carlton while I amend my fading buzz….hope you all  have a great 2019, get stoned, get laid, and don’t get too worked up over the dumb shit that you can’t control anyhow…talk to you all later, over and out…..

Oo-kay. So you’re kinda falling into line with the trend then. That is to say that your overall list is pretty much a mix of general and personal things. The general things fall mostly in the suck category while the personal things tend to reside in the NOT suck category.

Ummm……Yes?

What, you’re not sure?

What?

Exactly.  Some people only see what sucks. Some people only see what doesn’t. Most people see both and have somehow sorted out what they have control over and what they do not. The things we can’t control, things outside of our direct lives are the things that seem to be sucking the most.

Our friend Frank has determined the major suckage to be in pain. Physical, emotional pain of his own and those close to him. He did not take time to identify other specific phenomenon or individuals to place them in his suck column. Maybe he’s figured out that if you take the pain away the other things wouldn’t really matter. And Frank went on to share with us his NOT suck list. Anybody want to take a guess? Well here it is: a good job, a good bonus (twice!), locating a source for cheap health care and….the priceless gift of a hand made mandolin from a friend.

Frank, who happens to be a deep thinker and very spiritual individual, concluded by saying this: ” Those who express gratitude for the little things create an atmosphere to welcome more good.”  Sounds like good advice, Frank. Thanks for that.

So. Conclusion time. To answer the question, 2018: SUCK or NOT suck ? Neither. Years are just years, each eerily similar to the one before it.  Years don’t suck or not suck. People do. There is only one thing that will end that. All you people out there doing shit that sucks? STOP IT! Okay?

That’s all the time we have for this week. Until next time this is Carlton Milhouse, your botanist. Stay stoned my friends!

 

 

 

High Tea with Carlton Milhouse, edition 1

High Tea w Carlton Milhous

Yo! Everybodys out there! This is Carlton Milhouse, your botanist. We need to get H. John Benjamin to do that voice over for us. That would be cool. Arby’s, Archer, Bob’s Burgers and then us in perfect alphabetical order. 

Ok, so they’re like tellin’ me this is supposed to be like a weekly feature now, okay, but anyway if anybody is interested this is in fact the first edition of HIGH TEA , with me, Carlton Milhouse. Your botanist. In case you forgot that. This feature will post at 4PM Eastern US Standard time on Sundays. Makes it easy; only one day of the week you need to remember. That actually includes today, which is kinda fuckin’ weird……

So it’s like I just found out about this myself only this morning, you know. Like no pressure or anything, right? Ya got a few hours, yeah….I’m sure it’ll be fine. Here we go! I am celebrating High Tea this week at the hour of 4:20 with that lovely piece on my mantle, a fine vessel for one’s cuppa chronic. Earl Grey, no lemon and some East KY “Blue” grass. A little “wake and bake” for a cold winter afternoon on the eve of the eve of the new year. That’s like New Years Eve Eve, right. Somethin’ like that.

That will be our theme this week: THE YEAR END 

Now, what I like to do every year, about this time is like on New Years Eve, or New Years Eve Eve is, uh…put together a pair of tables, side by side, representing the categories of SUCK and NOT suck.  Below is an example:

 

                   SUCK                                                               NOT suck

          Diarrhea on stilts                                 Unsolicited sloppy wet blow jobs

Pinching your junk in a zipper                   The cop pursuing you blows a tire

 

Those are good examples for each category, things which universally do and do not suck. Okay? So, now what we’re going to do is form a set of tables for the year 2018. These will record items of suckage and non-suckage in their respective columns. I will open the tables with my observations and invite our readers to respond by comment with their own contributions. Next week, among other things that we might be doing, we’ll post the final results to determine: 2018, Suck or Not.

 

SUCK                                                                                      NOT suck

The national news media                                                Adult Swim

 

Loud mouthed braggart President                               Loud mouthed braggart President

 

Washington, DC                                                               successful 4th generation of hybrids

All of these fucking ads!

Facebook                                                                            Bartok the bat leaving as Atty Gen

The passing of Mark E. Smith                                         Business is good

The passing of Aretha Franklin                                      Tax cuts

 

Okay, well those are my big ones I guess. I’m sure there’s others, but come on! I only had a couple hours warning for this. These are things I can confidently say in my experience of 2018 were sucking and not sucking. Lets hear from our readers and find out next Sunday at 4:20…..

2018: SUCK OR NOT suck

 

So until then this is Carlton Milhouse, your botanist, saying Stay stoned my friends!

 

My Dog’s Thoughts on Pink Floyd

Not long ago I was introduced to a meditation channel.  It is not the sort of thing I would seek out on my own, but I actually sat and listened to it for a few minutes.  Within a very short time it had formed a reminiscence of the Pink Floyd song from their famed LP Ummagumma, Grantchester Meadows.  I then forced myself to sit and listen to some more of this channel.  I came to a conclusion.  Someone identified the need to create one of these channels (actually there are several) and there are people checking in. This can not be a bad thing if it leads to more people finding their chill and not being such colossal dicks all the time. Or…they could just listen to some Floyd!

There are certain standout pieces from the band’s portfolio which appear with regularity in my various playlists. Dark Side of the Moon in it’s entirety, of course, and select tracks from their other LPs. As I was caused to make a review of these I made a discovery that rather surprised me. There were no tracks from the Animals LP on any of the lists. Naturally my reaction was to cue it up and give it a listen.

The first time I ever heard anything from the album was quite probably some time in February of 1977. We were in the midst of what was up to that time the coldest winter of the twentieth century. In my bedroom above the garage I huddled about the heat register in the floor, a blanket wrapped around to contain the warm air. It was probably in this fashion that I sat huddled in the dark, next to a small radio and listened to a WCOL-FM DJ introduce Pigs (three different ones). Upon revisiting the full LP I am still of the opinion that this is indeed the most striking track of the album, both lyrically and musically.

Though it is hardly February and nowhere near to record-breaking cold temperatures, the change of season has brought with it no shortage of grey, miserably damp, chill days upon which to spend contemplating these weighty matters.  I happened to have at hand an intriguing new strain from my botanist, the Montana Flowering Dogweed, which I employed to good use for the occasion. Both were consumed in the dark, save for the light of the fire. Pink Floyd has always served as a fine soundtrack for any blaze.

For those who are unfamiliar, and those who may have simply forgotten, Pigs (three different ones) was on side two of the original vinyl. The lead off of the LP is the plaintive Pigs on the Wing, followed then by the stark and brooding piece Dogs. Perhaps it is somehow connected to that cold place where I first listened to this work, but I found that the song Dogs takes me to a very cold, dark and distant place.

Beginning at the 6:14 mark of side one there is a segment of about 45 seconds where there are the barks and howls of various hounds. Where I sat enjoying this my dog, Matthau, was at my feet and I noted his ears prick up slightly at this point. In the idle chatter one often engages with their pets I asked ” Well, old boy! Know what they’re saying, do you?” He gave me one of those looks, as dogs sometimes will, which seemed to question my sanity. He raised his massive head to snuff once at the smoke billowing from the glass bong and then rose from the floor to pad across the room and take a seat in the chair opposite. I wasn’t expecting an answer and his behavior, though somewhat odd, was not entirely out of the ordinary. Then he began to speak.

” The dogs, yes… they do go on there a bit, don’t they? Rather funny, that….”

He was sounding a bit like Alec Guinness. “Matthau? I didn’t know you could talk!”

“Of course I can speak, you pillock! I’m an English Mastiff, not some Neapolitan dullard!”

“No offense, Matthau! I just wonder why you waited until now!”

“It’s the Dogweed, old bean. Otherwise you’re too thick to hear it.”

“Is that it?”

“You have a better explanation?”

“I do not.”

“Well, there it is then.”

” I suppose you’re right, old boy. We’ll have to ask Carlton to get us some more of this soon. So what are those dogs saying anyway?”

“Oh they’re banging on about what worthless sods their agents were. Couldn’t even negotiate a reasonable royalties contract, could they?”

“Really? You’re having me on!”

“Am I? Perhaps you’d like corroboration from another hound?”

His point was well taken and I surely had no reason to doubt him. I have since learned of rumor that Roger Waters has advocated on behalf of the estates of these long departed canines. Mr. Waters has declined any comment upon the matter.

 

Summer 2018

A Smoking Bong report

by Carlton Milhouse

 

Boy did I have a fun summer! I have traveled, met new people and have sampled some great new strains. Some of these I would never have had the chance to try had it not been for being on the road. Way back in 1947-51, when Kerouac was on the road, that dude really got what it was all about. The Beat Generation understood and Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs lived their lives complete against a backdrop of jazz, poetry and drug use. My own recent travels had less to do with jazz or poetry, though they do figure slightly in my tales. I too was on the road:  for the green!

Early this summer I discovered a strain in Montana that was, honest to God, covered in a fuzzy, pink and purple hair. That fellow botanist is deep in research developing the best “non-paranoia” strain ever created. He’s getting close because after lighting off some of this bud I was left feeling pink and purple. And quite fuzzy. I hope to have some more details to share with all of you stoners as this research progresses!

About a month later I came across a delightful home-grown strain in Yellow Springs, Ohio that was the deepest green I had ever seen, through and through. It was a green so rich I offered the suggestion of including Emerald somewhere in it’s name. The high was great! And it already had a name: Pine Cones. I had to admit the name suited it as it truly did taste like breathing in a pine forest, the high was so light! I laughed and made jokes, wanted to break into dance.

And when I saw that particular woman walking down the road… Oh, I won’t forget her any time soon! Dark hair and eyes, caramel skin and when we made eye contact? Lady, you know who you are and if you should read this please contact me. When our eyes met, if only for that instant, I had to fight every urge I had to grab her and cart her off to the nearest field for a little afternoon delight. In the Ohio Valley you are never far from a field somewhere.

Well I could act like every other casual tourist and give you a blow by blow account of my summer road trip, but what I’d rather discuss is travel itself from the perspective of the herbal tourist. In my lifetime I have traveled to three different continents. Most of my early travels were made during my studies. It was then, during my college days, that I first discovered this magnificent herb that the gods have blessed us with. I found it grown on all three of those continents, among those few things that nearly every place has in common. The best green I have ever smoked was a strain from Phuket, Thailand (or somewhere near there). The worst? Some nasty, dry, brown scrub I obtained in a little town outside of Paris. Ugh! Choked the shit out of me, gave me an instant headache and a sorry buzz that only lasted about 20 minutes. Kind of like the Colorado weed you find common these days. It costs a lot and leaves you wishing it had never been legalized! Damned commercialization! But that’s another discussion…

Travel changes people. Different people in many, many different ways. One thing that most can agree on is that travel grows the mind. That is if you let yourself go with the experience. Ninety percent of my travel has been solo, which is a definite plus. I have personally witnessed families traveling together in places like Venice and London who were obviously unhappy, stressing out and fighting like they were making a trip to the local mall back home. These poor souls have not given themselves a chance to fully immerse themselves into the experience.

Whether your travel is just stateside, like Kerouac, or put on your big boy pants and explore outside of the US, you have to give yourself to it. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Don’t complain about the monkeys carrying on outside your room when you’re in Cambodia. Ask yourself, when am I ever going to have to worry about monkeys outside my window again?

And stoners? We are worldwide. We don’t look the same everywhere you go. You won’t find any tie-dyes or ponytails from the locals while relaxing in the Canary Islands, but the discerning stoner will find “that guy” (or gal, with any luck) who can hook you up. Like that red and golden bud that made me buzz all over, the one I obtained from that lovely dark brown girl who wanted to sing me Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. In my travels I have learned that it is not only weed, but apparently Bob Dylan too, that is universal in it’s reach. 

The similarities between all people seems to be nearly as many and as amazing as all of our differences. And we all have something we can learn from each other. I spent a summer in Trieste, Italy, where I left my job bussing tables at two in the afternoon (along with the rest of the staff) to go and have a siesta for two hours before dinner service. I like that way of life. Rarely did I rest, though. During that period I had found a luscious, young Italian mother with cleavage to die for. The strain she sold was as rich, dark and decadent as her rich, full bosom. Many were those siestas that we spent smoking the rich, dark herb while she rode on top of me. Yeah, I really liked that way of life! But I digress…

So get out there now! I mean it, a personal note to my fellow stoners. For just a little while anyhow, put down that remote, put the bong in the sink to be cleaned and grab a few bags of Lays from the cupboard. It’s time to travel. Don’t worry about our little green friend: you’ll find it anywhere if you look. Maybe you don’t want to travel with your stash, depending on your mode of travel of course, but don’t let that stop you from adventure. Go on. Go. Get outta here! I’m serious!

This is Carlton your Botanist. Until next time….keep it niiiiiiiice!

 

The Smoking Bong

Hello! This is Carlton Milhouse, your botanist. Welcome to The Smoking Bong, a periodic review of Bud and all things related. The clock on my wall reads 4:20. Shall we begin?

 

Blue Globe

Spanning the globe…

    I pursued a career in the field of botany due to my love for all things Cannabis in nature. I am a true stoner, happily and shamelessly leading a true stoners life, but I’m legit, ya dig? I am not a burn out, nor am I an idiot. I work, I am intelligent, I pay my bills and I keep an immaculate home. All while completely baked, nearly every minute of every day.

 

 

Bud

…in the quest for bud!

 

 

Cannabis Sativa. I love the way it smells, the way it looks, the way it does that sexy, slow burn in the Sherlock bubbler pictured above (a very fine piece of glassware from the Mountain Jam Glass Company of Eugene, Oregon). Most of all I love the way it makes me feel. It keeps me sane in an insane world.

While The Smoking Bong will explore all things Cannabis, I do not wish that this become a forum of debate regarding legalization. When the voices backing legalization have moved away from a discussion centered around decriminalization, to plans for commercialization and revenue stream, well… Friends, sad to tell you, when that is where the conversation begins the debate is already lost. I reject their terms and I refute their laws. Let’s keep the politics out of play here.

I shall regale you with Bud and bong reviews, tales from deep within the stoner culture (all names changed, of course, to protect the innocent). The music, the munchies, the cartoons, stoner films new and old; in general getting baked while having a few really good discussions. There is a clock in my home that is permanently set at 4:20. That’s because any hour of the day can be…

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!

 

Wait….  What?