The Big Secret

Cannabis, Hollywood, and The Counter Culture
Large jar of creativity and stress relief.

To my marijuana-smoking counterparts:

the entertainment industry is mocking us.  They are betting it all on the assumption that the weed smokers of America are so stoned that we won’t recognize the same crap in a different idiot box.  The truth is that their technique is working, just not so much on our demographic.  Soccer moms are easy targets, as are the unemployed.  But we, the cannabis smokers and watchers of the watchmen, are much more attuned than we’re credited for.

The monster that is reality TV has become an instrument of crime. One of the biggest criminals being the “brand” known as the Kardashians, and the little man behind the crime, Ryan Seacrest. And the trained chimps they hire to script the reality?  Let’s just say their little primate hands aren’t unclean either. Regardless, the ratings don’t lie, and the ratings are the bottom line. Being famous for being famous does violence to the term fame. And it does even greater violence to the watching dead; the poor gossip junkies who fill that void with the horrible acting done by “real” characters who cannot even act like themselves well.  I feel for the kid of Kanye and Kimberly, what’s her name?  Oh, yeah:  North.  North West. Wow.  If anyone had a moral compass of any kind, those two would’ve been kicked out of the gene pool long ago.


If Only “Pop Culture” Was Really “Pot Culture…”

The movie industry, Hollywood, tinsle-town, the place where dreams come true.  The place Willie Will Smith and his mutant children call home.  The crimes of the movie industry are less severe than that of TV, but just as harmful. Cannabis smokers world-wide have come the realization that quality ‘stoner’ entertainment just isn’t what it used to be. Picture a board room full of these “idea” people; and the big boss shouts the command, “I want ten ideas that already exist that can be regurgitated before this year is over!”  The room goes quiet as the well-dressed chimps think to themselves, “Oh, God!  It’s already March; Thank God I left Red Lobster on good terms.”  This same room was the birthplace of the remake of The Karate Kid.  They “re-imagined” a great movie that spoke to the generation from which it came, and they got jiggy with it.  The demon spawn of Willie Will did to that movie what American Idol’s Randy Jackson did to the word “dawg.”

All I’m saying is that I may be too stoned to find my lighter, but I’m not so stoned that I can’t recognize feces being hurled at my head.  Think green.


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