[LEMONS] 5.16.2002
Back in the southeast, I would always hear suckers talking Old Miss weed. They called it G-40, or some such shit, and bragged and bragged about its potency. If I had a dollar for every Old Miss frat-boy type with tales of twisted thai stick peculated from the publics proprietary pot plants, why, there would be no need for that Amazon beg box you see below. (Of course, none could ever be produced on demand.) And then you come to Northern California, just down the road from Humboldt and Mendocino counties. Home of the chronic, the krypto, the kind, the hairy green death, the (as I like to call it) brainhammer. And you realize that the stuff back east--even the pricey expensive stuff that purported to be blueberry or shiva skunk--just didn't stack up. No way no how. And you realize that the crowd back east, unless they're smoking the stuff grown here, is getting shortchanged. Oh. And that Gubment stuff? Maybe it'll fly in mighty Mississippi, but out here, folks call it ditch weed.
- l i n k -
