FINAL EDITION
News from CannaTown
Page 11
It Seems to Me By CannaTown Codger Raymond Halvorson Ya see all these durn
youngsters dabbin’ and purgin and twerkin all over the place, makes ya sick. In my day, we had a piece of paper and the bud. at was it. You rolled er up and if some dirt or grass got in there, well, you smaked it, dad gum- mit. We’d keep all our
Purp Becomes a Professor e sole owner and operator of Purp’s Purp has accepted a position as an adjunct lecturer at CannaTown University. Citing - nancial pressures--from splitting the Purp market with Canna- Town's new King Keefers --Purp reported that he will teach to supplement income and “ensure that the academics of Purp get passed down to the younguns.” “I’ve been sayin’ ‘Smells ain’t free,’” he wrote in a statement. “And the knowledge ain’t free. at’s why it’s college. You’re learnin’ about the Purp. And if you ain’t got the Purp, you ain’t got the smells. It’s a circle, and it’s science. at’s day one .” Purp’s curriculum will focus on the various types of purp, purp history, genetic heritage, eld identi cation, optimum horitcultural technique and appraisal, as well as some social and commercial implications of purp in today’s community. “We’re fortunate to have Purp onboard to share his in nite wealth of wisdom,” said Bert Melkma, Head Dean of the Plant Institute at CTU. Purp also announced the release of another upcoming strain biopic, a followup to his 2011 sleeper-hit, Just Walk Away from that Smallbud Purp .
roaches to roll up in a massive roachie spli , I tell you what, and then we even kept that roach! Times was tough, is all I’m sayin’. en ya hear about these young folk with their glass rigs and torches and shit? Well, in my day we made our bongs out of bottles and cans, fruit, whatever we could nd…one of the key accom- plishments of my youth was the construction of a two-barrel garbage can bong made with two new bins from Homie Depot. ose were the days. Chie n’ hash out of whatever contraptions could be built from everyday household parts... doing kni es in the kitchen over the ol’ gas stove. Hot boxin’ in the closets and cramped stair wells. Waking up in a haze daze with last night’s pizza still in the oven. Ya wonder what kind of fancy couches them young’uns camp out on while they chief -- probably a chaise lounge? Lordy. In my day we fell asleep under the stars! On the rocks! We let the durn’ bugs crawl into our clothes because we had no blankets, or shelter. Also, we had no food around because everyone always had the munch- ies so bad. Gad, what a fantastically awful time it all was. Even though I don’t remember it, I miss it. A young miser came up to me just the other day and asked if I wanted to Vape. Vape! Speak English, I told him, I’ll have Scottie beam me up to the Death Star and smake a Hash Vaperil- izer with George Orwell, I said. e man asked if I still wanted his wax. Wax? It was earwax, he said. I didn’t know what it was but he said it was potent so I got some, either way. Wax! Well here I am, probably time to get a cellular telephone too, damn generation, draggin me into the future as I kick and scream. at’s the way I see it, mm-hmm. Raymond Halvorson is a regular guest at the bus stop at 43rd and Ganj Ave. where he feeds the pigeons.
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