From issue 6 of The Magazine:
On a Saturday in early December, I visit the medical marijuana group knows as the Human Collective…—there’s a reception area, a waiting room, and an inner office where neat rows of small, labeled jars sit in a small glass display case: Hash Train, Orange Velvet, Medicine Woman. There are also lollipops, butter, hard candy, and other edibles.
The collectives’s director, Leslie Miller, is quick to tell me how much she deplores the lack of professionalism at many other marijuana clinics. “You walk in the door, there’s all these pot leaves and hippie images over the wall, things that just scream ‘hippie freakshow party'”…The message is clear: This is medicine—albeit medicine with some pretty stupid names.
From Stop Podcasting Yourself 236 and a discussion on medical marijuana.
California has all the dispensaries, but you can’t keep telling me it’s medicine and then it’s called something like “DOCTOR DUDE’S FUN PALACE!” in Wavy Gravy font. Make it look like a legitimate place. No doctor’s office ever employed tie-dye this much. I’m fine with pot, but pot culture is the dumbest shit.
I’m an advocate of putting things in your body that aren’t processed. That applies to food. It also applies here. I’m not saying you should all get high, but if you’re gonna smoke marijuana smoke the real thing.
The real thing is illegal, so kids find legal alternatives…like K2, glue sniffing, and cough medicine trips.
Even if the real thing were legal there would still be some winners messing with this garbage.