Weed TV

School would let out at 2:30. By 2:45, we would be getting as high as we could. At 3:00, we were ripped and ready. It was TV time.

After that last hit was inhaled, we would hurry into Sluggo’s parent’s family room and warm up the tube. With a few of Sluggo’s Mom’s homemade cookies in hand, we waited as the image slowly appeared on the screen.

The “after school” block of television was clearly marketed to the “stoner” demographic.  On the UHF band, we would carefully tune into channel 38 with a twist of the dial and a good whack on the chassis while someone would move the antenna wrapped in a wad of foil. We claimed our our spots on the couch and surrendered our brains for a couple of hours of the most mindless television shows ever created.


The Three Stooges would start an afternoon of “de-education” as the cathode ray tube bathed us with all that violent goodness. The timeless slapstick comedy taught us that whacking your best friend with a hunk of pipe or poking your pal in the eyes is just harmless entertainment and not assault and battery.  We crossed our fingers for a Curley episode, we were convinced Larry was high and the Joe episodes were just  a waste of time.  By 3:05, we were effectively “couch locked”. We remained riveted to Moe as he slapped his way through three “shorts” of black and white hilarity sandwiched between overly colorful junk food commercials.

After the Stooges were done, there was time for a quick bong hit in the garage so we could be high enough for Gilligan’s Island. So colorful, so stupid, soooo stoned, Gilligan’s Island was the ultimate in brain numbing television. Once a prime time staple, Gilligan’s Island is the perfect example of the family entertainment my generation endured.  Completely harmless and  unoffensive with zero educational value, Gilligan’s Island was just the thing to flush out all the day’s  “learnin”.  During the commercials, we would offer our opinions of the professor’s “coconut science” or argue over who was hotter: Ginger or Mary Ann. You’re singing the theme song right now, aren’t you…?

debbieAnother bong hit or two… Lost In Space was the most high show ever. Bad science, bad dialogue, bad acting, bad effects but still great “stoned” TV. Even though Lost In Space was a lame attempt to capitalize on the success of Star Trek, it still had the best theme song on TV at the time. (listen here)  The best episodes (by best I mean “dumbest”) featured Penny’s pet, Debby the Bloop, a chimp with fuzzy Spock ears that only utters “bloop”. We would fall about ourselves loudly laughing at Dr Smith moaning “oh, the pain, the pain” as Robots’ flailing arms would warn Will Robinson of “danger, danger”…

By this time, Sluggo’s Mom would walk in, sigh deeply and tell us to go outside.

Good idea, it was time to get high.

Westborough Weedless

It seems Westborough just isn’t the town for me. In fact, I feel a bit insulted.

Yes. I take Westborough’s hatred for cannabis personally. I’ve been a chronic inhaler way before Clinton. For years I have been secretly smoking my cannabis like a criminal. Marijuana finally becomes legal in the state and my town says “no way”. Yup, the first town in Massachusetts to defy the choice of the people.

I hope you’re proud, Westborough. You’ve succumbed to the fear.

Hey, don’t worry, Westborough… You can get your alcohol at 33 locations in town. Soon there will be even more places to get shit faced because our town’s citizens also voted to lift the quota for liquor licenses. Economic development, that is what that is called. So drink up, Westborough… apparently you would rather your children drink because a little alcohol never hurt anybody, Right? I’m sure Westborough never has drunk driving issues with all of these establishments in town. There were 10,519 drunk driving arrests in Massachusetts in 2016. Honestly, Westborough… you should be selling your liquor right there between the porn shop and the gun shop.

Westborough’s Economic Development Plan.

Fret not, Westborough weedies! I feel your pain. I’ll deliver all the cannabis you need, right to your door… from Grafton.

related articles:

Westborough Votes To Ban Recreational Pot Shops « CBS Boston

Westborough selectmen approve marijuana opt-out question on March ballot – Community Advocate

How I learned about Weed.

I grew up in suburban New England during the 70s. At 10 years old, I watched the 60s transition into 1970 as the youngest of 4 boys. With curious eyes and a sponge-like brain I observed my brothers from the safety of my youth as they tested my parents, enraged their teachers and challenged society just like every other teen in America.

I knew about drugs at an early age watching my older brothers experiment with the vast selection of substances that were available in the 70s.

It wasn’t until an assembly at school when I would discover marijuana would have a special attraction for me.

I was a wide eyed fifth grader when Officer Grassy came to Cole Elementary School to teach us about drugs. On the stage of our gym/auditorium, the Officer opened up a magical trunk filled with mysterious stuff. As he opened it up, I smelled the familiar odor that also lingered on my brothers’ jackets. Inside was a curious collection of confiscated contraptions: hookas, roach clips, bongs, a gas mask with a bowl, even a trumpet converted into a pipe.


I could not keep my eyes off the Officer as he explained how hippies would make “steamboat” pipes out of toilet paper tubes and foil. As he spoke he twirled a beautifully decorated cardboard tube in his hands. He picked up a large bag of marijuana, held it up high with a disgusted look on his face and continued… “Always needing their fix, the crazed hop heads smoke their reefers and then go on crime sprees.”

Hmmmmm. My brothers smoked that stuff all the time and all I ever saw them do is listen to music, eat lots of food and laugh a lot. But more important than that, I never realized there were so many cool toys marijuana smokers got to play with.

I had no desire to get high, having no idea what that even was. I did want to see how that trumpet pipe worked and that gas mask looked like a whole lotta fun.

The next day I had crafted my own “steamboat” toilet tube pipe just like the fine Officer taught me. Hiding in the woods behind my parents house, a friend and I smoked random dried leaves until we were dizzy. We pretended we were hippies as we coughed ourselves red faced and wiped smoke induced tears from our eyes.

Clearly, smoking “weed” was the coolest thing EVER!


Walking Through That Gateway.

The biggest argument I hear against the legalization of marijuana is that weed is a gateway drug. Smoking marijuana, it is argued, leads to harder drugs like heroin.

As a pot smoker for more than 40 years, I can understand why pot is perceived this way.

I tried all the drugs I could. I never used any drug intravenously, but I freely took just about anything handed to me for a few “wasted” years.

My first “high” was hyperventilating on purpose to feel that “head rush”. Cigarettes and cigars were another “high” for a curious preteen. I remember stealing my dad’s table pipe with a handful of Borkum Riff. I remember throwing up in the woods after a lungful of that nasty stale tobacco.

Another reason I was throwing up in the woods? That would be my dad’s well stocked liquor cabinet.

It was only natural for me to seek out marijuana. My bothers were doing it, the Beatles were doing it, even my own mother was doing it. Once I established a “connection”, I could get a bag of weed easier than an unopened bottle of booze. My dealer was always available to fill my pot order, even though he was usually late.

small_signEvery suburban neighborhood had a “dealer”. Often clad in an olive drab army jacket and flying a freak flag that flowed over hunched shoulders, the dealer was usually easy to spot and easier to smell. Back in the 70s, it was not uncommon for your local drug dealer to offer a selection of recreational drugs. Of course, any good businessman will tell you, the key to profits is the upsell. Mushrooms, LSD, hash, cocaine… there were lots of choices in his pocket on any given day. As he was taking my money and handing me a “dime bag” in a suspicious exchange, my dealer would always offer up other drugs that were on his “menu”.

My dealer introduced me to many drugs. As if he was doing me the biggest favor, my dealer always used phrases like “I saved this just for you” or “You’re gonna love this”. When the dealer was out of smoke, there was alway a back up “tab” of something.

My trusted dealer kept me wasted whether or not he had weed. It was his “job”.

Legalization could remove this “middleman” and allow me to purchase my pot stash without the that upsell. Buying from a regulated and secure establishment could effectively put the weed dealer out of business and reduce the exposure to the illegal dangerous drugs. The movement to keep marijuana illegal is a movement to keep the dealer in business.

Marijuana isn’t the gateway to drug addiction so much as the drug dealer is the “gate keeper”.

Think of the children, people… As voters, we have the opportunity keep this salesman away from the kids and help to keep that “gate” closed.