So I got stuck in traffic today, I haven't had sex since Bush -- the Senior Bush -- was in the White House, and all the music I thought was cool is now called "Dad Rock" by
smirking Millennials who never experienced the joy of ELO's "Time" with a pair of Sennhesier HD 800 headphones and a brain fulla Chocolate Thai. Well, fuck them! You know
why? Because I'm blitzed to the tits on Pearl Scout Cookies right now and they aren't. That's right -- they're relishing in Autotuned garbage while I have the dulcet tones
of Jeff Lynn buying me a ticket to the moon. And by the time I'm not high off this bud anymore, I could have WALKED to the moon! This isn't a hi-and-bye high, this is a
"Oh, were you just about to watch The Wall, Heavy Metal, Wizards -AND- Fritz the Cat? Don't mind if I join you!" high. Three hits off this shit and the buzz is filing a
change of address card and putting your cortex down as its new permanent residence. But unlike your last roommate who took a dump in the catbox and then ham-slammed your
couch, this new resident is a mellow sort. No drama, no Stinky Hermans in the catbox, no waking up and finding Dickbutt drawn on your face with a Sharpie -- nope, none of
that shit. This is a strain with manners: it Fabreezes the bathroom after dropping a Taco Bell deuce, addresses your Mom as Mrs and never once says 'Oi! Wouldja lookit them
tits!' within hearing range when you bring your girlfriend over. It will, however, fart on your cat if given half a chance, so, y'know, keep Mittens at a distance. Damn, am
I still stoned? Ohyeah I am! So next time you need to be stoned for the length of a Yes song, remember Pearl Scout Cookies: The Dickbutt-Free Strain!
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