S........t

Let me start by saying that if you're the type of person who doesn't like hearing about dudes smokin' pot then you'd better kick it into high gear and scram buddy, because StonedOnPot is back and guess what?...I've been smokin' weed. Alright let's get down to brass tax (That expression by the way comes from mid eighteenth century America when the brass tax, a tax on the net brass a man owned, was the strongest current in the US government's tax revenue stream) it was a Sunday afternoon and I had the day off, I says to myself "I'm no coward, I'm going to try this Delahaze strain that all the kids are talking about probably." Now it just so happens that I'd recently come into possession of one gram of said pot. Not by choice mind you, no, but by sheer luck. Sometimes you wonder if a higher power is writing your story, sometimes you swear you can hear The Creator saying "Hey StoneOnPot, why don't you light up that chron-chron and, I don't know, see what happens." And then he throws his head back and laughs maniacally. You curse your powerlessness but resist as you might, there's no escaping the reality that we're all just puppets on his strings playing out whatever drama most amuses him in the moment. Why, that's the first story he ever wrote. Anyway, rest assured this weed gets you stoned. But I'm only giving it 4 stars. It's not cocaine.

My house in infested with ants. So when I took a seat on my couch having just taken two fat hoots of Pineapple Trainwreck, I noticed two warrior ants locked in a duel to the death against the vast white backdrop that is my carpet. My first inclination was to grab a few squares of toilet paper, crush them both within, and flush their broken insect bodies down the crapper. But as this impulse moved through me another followed, a higher impulse to let them be. For all I knew this savage conflict, this baptism by combat, would define their lives and through it they would truly know themselves. Who was I to deny the victor his glory, his acceptance by the gods. Who was I to deny the loser his shame, his descent into the perfection of his own inadequacy. No, life must be allowed to live and die as it will, to arrogantly interupt the violent ballet is the one true sin. Oh, and the weed got me stoned.