Even more potentially damaging to a woman’s potential for pleasure than coke dick is weed dick. And with a certain beloved holiday upon us, it’s important to remember that getting overly enthusiastic about your love of ganj and reverting to listening to Bob Marley while smoking it could put you at risk of a fate worse than missing a dick: having a limp one.
When your love of 4/20 puts your “dick” at risk
While sure, it’s great that it lowers your sperm count so that you don’t bring any of your satanic spawn into the universe, there is something to be said for the stiffness of a non-stoned wang. 1) it might give an orgasm and 2) it shows that it cares about something other than just hanging out lazily in your crusty underwear, much the way the rest of your body exists in its crusty garb. So unless you’d prefer her to stroke a penis bong rather than your actual penis, feel free to celebrate 4/20 in all its glory.
Not that “men” who smoke weed are that awesome of ever make any money, but there is a certain respect one should have for the culture of stonerdom. Part of that culture is absurd food groups like Apple Jacks (and when you watch the commercial for it, you’ll clearly understand why) being considered genuine sustenance.
And yet, a recently busted family-run heroin ring (you know what they say: the family that smuggles drugs together hugs together) run out of South Williamsburg has proven that there is no respect for “men” who love marijuana. If there were, the ringleader would never have deigned to smuggle his contraband in Apple Jacks boxes throughout the boroughs–particularly Staten Island, Staten Island loves heroin. It should have been a disguise more fitting, like a jar of Nutella. I imagine one gets the same serene feeling of ecstaticness from an injection.
Alright, so by now we all know that 4/20 is like a way important national holiday or whatever and needs to be honored by select Travis Birkenstock types who can’t just smoke on normal days like a proper stoner. With this being accepted, what one cannot abide is the “man” who takes it too far and gets so blunted he’s goddamn comatose.
Travis Birkenstock, stoner god
As Cher Horowitz would say, “It is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to be fried all day.” And while, sure, this is the entire point of 4/20, have at least an iota of self-control. You’re a Williamsburg denizen for fuck’s sake. Act like you have the perceived class that goes with it. Weed is, after all, a plebe’s drug. At least spring for something designer, namely amphetamines–Jordan Belfort-style.
Smoking weed is, by nature, a decidedly languid activity, inviting you to curl up into your own desires for utter selfish introspection, or a total lack of thought at all. Considering how tame and accessible this drug has become, it is appropriate that the Williamsburg “man” would seek this outlet as a means to justify the improvement of his “art.”
The accusation may seem harsh, but it’s true: “men” who smoke weed “for their art” are just doing it to escape
Whatever that “art” may be, from painting to graphic design to, oof, writing, the real reason a “man” smokes weed is pure and simple: to escape the reality of his dicklessness and the oppression of living in a condo that he knows he doesn’t deserve to live in. Ergo, sobriety is not conducive to marring the guilt and self-loathing that creeps in on a daily basis. “Art” is not the reason. “Art” is always shittier when coming from a drug-addled place. But it’s a pretty excuse, isn’t it?