Saturday was 4/20, the *high* holiday infamously celebrated by teens, bottom-tier losers, and girls in the “hippie” sorority who sport those headbands that go across the forehead. I celebrated by getting drunk at a winery.
I’d be lying if I said I’ve never partaken in the use of the grungy illegal substance, though. I don’t think a damn thing is more gentlemanly than a suitor lighting for you as you teeter on the edge of blackout at a post-game, so I shan’t judge those who dabbled in greener pastures on that day. I shall, however, judge or at least view with a hybrid feeling of disgust and awe, the students at UC Santa Cruz who brought a two pound joint to Porter Meadow, where the school’s annual 4/20 party is held.
First of all, joints are for weed snobs. I don’t know much about cannabis, but a stoner I went to high school with once told me that “joints got soul,” making it clear to me I’d never associate with anyone who smoked them. More importantly, two pounds of marijuana is absurd. I saw an ounce one time when I had the misfortune of dating a guy during his pothead phase, which I’ve found even the most respectable men secretly go through. When converted into terms you’ll understand, an ounce already equates to “a fuck ton.” Two pounds is 32 times that amount. Police officials confiscated the giant joint and not surprisingly were heckled by the party’s attendees.
Discretion is an artform, folks. A joint the size of a baseball bat is not a tool that will help you master it.
[via Huffington Post]
Image via Huffington Post