Tag Archives: POT

Meet the Moms Who Treat Their Kids’ Autism with Cannabis on ‘WEEDIQUETTE’

On a new episode of VICELAND's show WEEDIQUETTE, Krishna Andavolu meets the mothers breaking federal law to treat their children's autism with cannabis. Though the local government might prohibit it, these parents have a conviction that helping their kids shouldn't make them criminals.

WEEDIQUETTE airs Wednesdays at 10 PM on VICELAND.

Plus, BONG APPÉTIT is back with a new episode, and Abdullah Saeed is teaming up with the founders of LA's Trap Kitchen to infuse their signature dish with a generous helping of cannabis oil. Abdullah and his buddies serve up the potent pineapple bowls—filled with jasmine rice, beef short rib, and lobster—to Slink Johnson, the comedian and actor who stars in Adult Swim's Black Jesus.

BONG APPÉTIT airs Wednesdays at 10:30 PM on VICELAND.

Want to know if you get VICELAND? Head here to find out how to tune in.

A Brief, Paranoid History of Anti-Weed PSAs

For all the shifts in American television culture since the birth of the medium—from the way we make and consume news, to advertisements and the shows themselves—many folks raised by the boob tube likely share a common experience: scoff-laughing at anti-pot PSAs.

From trippy animations in the 1960s that tried to speak to the era's hep cats by labeling weed "the hoola-hoop of the jet generation," to this 2007 spot featuring a sadly judgmental dog, hokey ads trying to scare or shame teens away from the demon weed have been an eternal TV trope. Often relying on stilted scripts, logical fallacies, or blatant lies, these ads follow in a pre-TV tradition of anti-pot propaganda films as well. This unending wave of PSAs has basically become a sub-genre of ironic humor. You can waste an entire day perusing compilations of these relics.

Anti-pot PSAs didn't emerge through a slow process of social change, but in a rapid eruption of self-serving bigotry divorced from science or fact. The force of that paranoid thrust dulled over the years, but it was still a vital part of the DNA of most historic PSAs—and their humor. But in a mixed blessing to society (and a curse to comedy), paranoid anti-marijuana PSAs may be on their way out in favor of a new, more sober breed of ads made for the era of legalization.

No one's entirely sure when weed, which likely originated in Central Asia thousands of years
ago, made its way to the United States. Although the early colonies notoriously promoted hemp production in the 17th century, there's no evidence the intoxicating strain of the plant was ever grown. It seems most likely that cannabis came north in tiny spurts and sputters with immigrants from or folks who'd visited the Caribbean and several Central and South American countries, where it was brought over by Indian workers as part of their pre-existing culture. Colonizers also transported it here to inebriate enslaved Africans.

For centuries, the low-level presence of pot in ports and insular communities was a non-issue. It was used in 19th-century US patent medicines without concern, and at least one mid-century medical periodical described the effects of cannabis resin fairly accurately and bluntly as leading to "inebriation… of the most cheerful kind, causing the person to sing and dance, to eat food with great relish, and to seek aphrodisiac enjoyment," with no big side effects.

Things started to change around 1910 with the Mexican Revolution—a messy affair that would lead to decades of sporadic violence, forcing periodic and substantial waves of refugees into the American Southwest. As with today's refugees from the Middle East, these victims of war and instability were greeted with fear and quickly associated with violence and social disruption—especially toward the dawn of the Great Depression, which naturally called for a racial scapegoat.

Law officers and locals began to credit violent crimes to Mexicans' use of weed, which came north with them, painting it as a substance granting users great strength and sending them into murderous rages. Of course, these stories seem laughable. (Some historians note that we don't know exactly what these immigrants could have been mixing their weed with—but, also, come on.) By this time, marijuana was also firmly associated with port town underworlds and the (literally) dark subculture of jazz, taking on a broad sheen as an agent of general moral decay.

In 1914, the Texan town of El Paso passed the first laws against the sale or possession of marijuana, which had, prior to its Mexican association, been known simply as cannabis in much of the US. Numerous other cities and states—including Mexico itself—followed suit over the next couple of decades. Dark tales of the dank herb flowed from the border into a few early films, like the 1924 western Notch Number One in which a man turned into a murderer after smoking weed, or the 1932 romantic crime flick Jewel Robbery, in which a robber used pot to dupe his victims in a jewel heist.

But as Richard Stringer and Scott R. Maggard of Old Dominion University wrote in a paper last year on the media's effects on American attitudes toward weed throughout history, "Prior to 1936, concern over marijuana was mainly concentrated in a select few cities… Even Harry Anslinger, the Commissioner of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics and 'the world expert' on drugs, regarded it as a nuisance, unworthy of his organization's time."

That year, though, Anslinger suddenly glommed onto weed, likely just because he needed a new drug scare to keep funding for his agency alive. Whether because he knew nothing and believed the hyped-up local stories, or because he was a shrewd and self-serving G-man, Anslinger perpetuated and expanded tales of weed directly causing violent crimes and the notion that bad (read: colored) people were pushing it on good (read: white) citizens. According to Stringer, this led Anslinger to not only author or push for articles spouting these views in papers like the New York Times, but to help in the production of what were arguably the earliest anti-pot PSAs.

In 1936 and 1937, Anslinger had a hand in the production or dissemination anti-pot propaganda films like Assassin of Youth, Marihuana, and most famously, Reefer Madness, the latter of which ridiculously presented weed as a substance that could turn a young girl into a reckless harlot and, in just one puff, trigger actions that could leave scores dead. This media blitz coincided with the push to pass the Marijuana Tax Act of 1937, which was the first national effective pot ban.

As Stringer points out, the depictions in those films represented most US citizens' first introduction to weed, fueling the idea that it could steal away young people's' innocence. Egged on by Anslinger's blunt rejection of science in favor of scare tactics, dire warnings about the imminent physical risks of weed kept coming: The Devil's Harvest (1942) sold audiences on the tagline "a fifth column sowing destruction in the youth of America," while the poster for 1949's She Shoulda Said "No"! advertised "pain & anguish… hopped-up harlots… psychotic dope fiends."

As white upper-middle-class baby boomers got into weed in the 1960s, the racially biased reputation of the drug faded, as folks largely became aware that the anti-weed films of the past point had been spouting some utter bullshit. (As Stringer put it to me in conversation, after someone's tried pot, they "would not believe that marijuana will cause someone to kill their family with an ax.") So the ads shifted toward a groovier feel, admitting that weed itself wasn't a deadly substance—but still took every opportunity to try to convince kids that pot could fuck over their lives, pushing the risk of bad experiences while using the drug as well as potential dependency, while advancing the narrative of weed as a "gateway drug." This copasetic and understanding—yet fallacious and menacing—push was what led to Sonny Bono explaining the dangers of a little toke to the era's youths in a 32-minute 1968 feature.

This strain of gentler, albeit still hyperbolic, PSA got a massive boost with Richard Nixon's war on drugs in the 1970s, and after a brief lull under Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter, the PSAs persisted for the rest of the century. From the late 80s into the 90s, coalitions of anti-drug advocacy groups, willing advertising firms, and media companies annually pumped out hundreds of millions of dollars worth of PSAs that largely built on the faux-hipness and specious arguments that folks like Bono spewed decades earlier. In 1998, the federal government consolidated these efforts into a central program, the National Youth Anti-Drug Media Campaign (which targeted other substances as well), with hundreds of millions of dollars in its war chest.

In the early 2000s, researchers finally got around to testing how effective these fear-mongering ads really were at reducing teen drug use—and the results were not inspiring. The federally backed campaigns were not only largely unsuccessful, but they could actually lead teens to believe that drugs were more prevalent than they actually were, thereby increasing the desire to see what using them was actually like.

The feds tried to shift their tone around 2005, focusing on bids like the Above the Influence campaign to stress the value of overcoming peer pressure and building an independent identity—but as the aforementioned 2007 ad with the talking dog suggested, strains of the paranoid exaggerations of the 1930s still shone through. These ads often played on the fear of social stigma—of one's status being forever diminished by weed—and painted pot as oddly potent implicitly as psychedelic. The ads got better practical results than what preceded them, but a combination of insufficient impact and changing federal priorities caused the government to ax the program in 2012, while its collaborators slowed their efforts as well.

The rapid escalation of legalization efforts and the concurrent mainstreaming of the drug have simultaneously been eroding the social patience for the scare tactics of the past. Case in point: The Colorado Department of Public Health tried to launch a Don't Be a Lab Rat campaign to convince teens that smoking pot would damage their young brains in 2014—two years after recreational legalization. The campaign bombed hard and faded fast. The following year saw the state adopting a value- and drama-free campaign, Good to Know, focusing on basic facts of real value for sensible and informed usage.

Stringer predicts that "increases in legalization are going to lead to more media attention about the responsible use of marijuana" in the near future—but the ill-informed and fear-based moralistic ads of the past are unlikely to vanish completely. In 2014, there was an anti-medical marijuana campaign in Florida with ads echoing the paranoid tones of the 1930s, including a poster suggesting edibles could become a widespread tool for date rape. Folks who were nursed on a steady drip of Reefer Madness–style moral paranoia are still in positions of power, too: Most notably, there's Attorney General Jeff Sessions's hatred of marijuana as a moral evil, as well as his vigor for a new drug war.

Regardless, in the future we're likely to see fewer PSAs shaming people for general pot usage and trumping up its inherent risks. Instead, Stringer suggests that "we can expect media attention and PSAs regarding marijuana to more closely resemble alcohol PSAs." Granted, PSAs about alcohol still often resort to social shaming tactics and focus on physical risks; but pot PSAs following in that vein will be a far cry from old messages of moral decay and character flaws in the "dope fiend." 

In Reefer Madness, Dr. Alfred Carroll (Josef Forte), a high school principal whose supposedly informative meeting with local parents frames the film, conjures visions of "A young boy… under the influence of [marijuana]… who killed his entire family with an ax." Compare that with Colorado's Good to Know campaign, which at its most fearful intones things like: "Brain development is not complete until age 25. For the best chance to reach their full potential, youth should not use retail marijuana." The horror, the horror—or, not quite.

Follow Mark Hay on Twitter.

How to Make Chai That’ll Get You High

Abdullah Saeed knows how important it is to chill. That's why VICE's resident weed expert came up with a way to infuse chai tea with weed, using a handful of spices and a bit of milk.

The Noun Project
Person Relaxing [This graphic has been modified]
By Delwar Hossain, BD

The Noun Project
Tea [This graphic has been modified]
By Setyo Ari Wibowo, ID

The Noun Project
Kick
By Gan Khoon Lay

The Noun Project
Tea [This graphic has been modified]
By Setyo Ari Wibowo, ID

The Noun Project
Cannabis Leaf [This graphic has been modified]
By Alice Noir

The Noun Project
Kitchen Timer
By Christopher Beach, US

The Noun Project
Cannabis [This graphic has been modified]
By Sixth Planet, UA

A Helpful Woman’s Guide to Upgrading Your Entire Life With Homemade Marijuana Gummi Bears

I was like you once: eating a single bite of food with pot in it and freaking right the fuck out. The first time I had a pot brownie, I did what any sensible 15-year-old might: I decided they weren’t working, ate half the pan, waited two hours, then watched the entire room flip onto its side and felt the sensation…

Read more...

You Can Now Buy Weed from a Drive-Thru in Colorado

Good news, stoners: The nation's first ever drive-thru dispensary for recreational weed is opening in Colorado on Thursday, just in time for 4/20, the Post Independent reports.

The Tumbleweed Express in Parachute, Colorado, is set to become the only recreational dispensary of its kind to offer the convenient service. When 4 PM rolls around, some lucky pothead will become the first in the country to pull his car up to a window and pick up bud from a drive-thru without needing a medical license. Well, maybe not the first.

Mark Smith, who opened the outfit as an offshoot from his larger, original Tumbleweed dispensary, decided to pursue a drive-thru option after people repeatedly knocked on the window of his shop and asked for green after hours. When a car-wash business across the street from his dispensary went up for sale, he pounced on it and set about making it 4/20-friendly. 

"It seemed like the perfect fit," Smith told a local Fox affiliate. "The stars were in alignment."

Though folks have opened drive-thru dispensaries in other parts of the country—like Olympia, Washington—they only dish out medical weed. One Oregon company tried to pioneer the first ever recreational marijuana drive-thru last year, but it was shut down because it had set up shop right next to two schools.

Smith, however, didn't face too much opposition from the officials in his 1,100-person town, but the operation will need to follow a few stringent regulations. For starters, no one under the age of 21 can be in the car when it goes through the drive-thru. Also, he'll need to have security on-site at all times.

So long as Smith follows those rules, he'll soon be running America's first-ever recreational marijuana drive-thru, serving up product Thursday through Sunday from 4 PM to midnight.

Follow Drew Schwartz on Twitter.

This Is Probably the Most Stoned Stretch Of Highway In All America

Deuel County sits on the inner edge of the Nebraska panhandle, right where I-76 breaks off from I-80 to head down into Colorado. With a population of just under 2,000, the county is served by a paltry five-member police force. And yet even with that tiny law-enforcement presence, Deuel boasted a marijuana arrest rate of more than 24.23 per 1000 residents in 2014, almost six times the statewide average. In the past 15 years, in fact, Deuel County has arguably become one of the worst places in America to smoke or possess—much less enjoy—weed.

Scott DeCoste has been sheriff of Deuel County for the past two years, and on the force there for a little over three. When he got started, Colorado had recently legalized marijuana, and according to Decoste, it didn't take long for pot-related arrests to become a big part of his job.

"It's as busy as it has ever been," DeCoste recently told VICE in an interview. "If you get a vehicle for speeding, nine times out of ten, they'll have some pot or something from the dispensaries over there on them. It's nothing new."

To be sure, the sheriff insists his police force isn't looking to stop people just because they're leaving Colorado and might have weed. But if his officers do stop you, they're probably going to take away your pot—and if it's hash oil or edibles, you're probably going to spend the night in jail.

Deuel County is not alone, of course. According to a study by researchers at the University of Nebraska, since at least 2000, when Colorado approved medical marijuana, Nebraska has seen an increase in marijuana possession arrests along the border. That number rose dramatically in 2014, when weed sales and consumption were made legal for everyone 21 and over. Between 2013 and 2014 alone, the border counties increased possession arrests by 32.4 percent.

These days, according to Sheriff DeCoste some 60 percent of all highway stops in Deuel County turn up some reefer.

"In all honesty, people will tell me, 'You bastards, you just got me coming out of Colorado,'" Decoste said. "'No! If you weren't doing 85 MPH, I wouldn't of stopped you. And man, I encourage people, if you think we're picking on Colorado people, we have to see them doing a violation. We have to have a reason to stop you. We can't stop you just because you're coming out of a state. It's unconstitutional." (In fairness, the University of Nebraska report found that the pot arrest rate in Deuel County, while the highest in the state, actually declined between 2013 and 2014, and more recent comprehensive data was not available.)

"Some people think we're the 'buzzkill county,' but we're trying to do the job the right way." —Sheriff Scott DeCoste

While it's natural to wonder if the cop who pulls you over had a legit reason or just wanted to kill your vibe, Decoste isn't exactly going out on a limb with his tough stance. States bordering Colorado have had a contentious relationship with weed since legalization began, taking their complaints about the corrupting influence of pot all the way to the Supreme Court, which declined to hear one major case last spring. And that setback hasn't stopped some of these same border states from sounding the alarm about a flood of Colorado ganja. Kansas Attorney General Derek Schmidt, for his part, put a report last fall documenting the rise of nefarious foreign bud in Kansas, though it notably declined to provide much in the way of evidence that weed consumption in the state had actually increased because of it.

Jared Ellison, one of the authors of the University of Nebraska study analyzing pot arrests in the region, explained that just because people are being arrested more for marijuana possession doesn't necessarily mean there's more weed in the state.

"These numbers are being driven by out-of-county residents," Ellison said, noting the obvious: the majority of highway arrests tend to be people on their way elsewhere in the state or just passing through. "It's impossible for the amount of arrests to be taking place to just be county residents. So that's the problem with mistaking arrests for use. Arrests are just a reflection of what law enforcement is doing, not necessarily use."

According to the University's report, a large increase in arrests came from Nebraska's state patrol, which keeps tabs on the highways. Between 2013 and 2014, the last two years covered by the report, counties that saw an increase in state patrol and local police presence saw rises in marijuana arrests as well. Ellison did note, however, that when compared to the cost of increased enforcement, the amount of money being taken in by fines for marijuana possession did not seem to be a motivating factor. In other words, this isn't anything like a Ferguson situation where the cops were propping up municipal budgets by targeting the poor for low-level offenses.

"In terms of money, they're not gaining a whole lot for it, especially if you examine how long it takes an officer [who] has to stay with someone accused of possession," Ellison said. "You think of how much they make an hour, the costs to the county and state for the courts system. I think it could just be an ideological difference between the people of Nebraska and other states."

Of course, even with Nebraska's increased enforcement, it still lags far behind other, more populated places in the United States—even those nowhere near legal weed wonderlands. Drug law enforcement has traditionally hit urban communities of color hardest; a 2010 report by the American Civil Liberties Union found black people were almost four times as likely to be arrested for weed as whites.

"In terms of the number of arrests, where those are happening, it's large cities in large counties," said Ezekiel Edwards, director of the ACLU's Criminal Law Reform Project. "We found that places like New York City, back in the 2000s, places like Chicago, Baltimore, that's where you had high numbers of marijuana arrests. That said, when you look at per capita rates, where you're most likely to be arrested, it didn't reflect places where the most arrests were happening. Midwestern states like Iowa and Minnesota were states where the rates were the highest, and the disparities by race were still very high."

Colorado's conservative neighbors are now appealing to Attorney General Jeff Sessions, a staunch anti-marijuana crusader, to bring an end to this brave new era. At the end of February, Nebraska's Attorney General, Doug Peterson, met with Sessions to discuss the impact of Colorado's "big overflow" of weed on the state, as he put it. Trumps's top law enforcement officer took the opportunity to remind reporters that he is "definitely not a fan of expanded use of marijuana."

Check out this MUNCHIES guide to eating your weed.

Meanwhile, Kansas AG Schmidt wrote a letter to the Justice Department (DOJ) earlier this month, calling on the feds to enforce laws prohibiting marijuana, which Schmidt complained "were routinely ignored" during the Obama administration. And two weeks ago, Sessions announced the formation of a task force looking at the DOJ's marijuana policy, asking for the report to be delivered to him by July 27. The attorney general could theoretically decide to sue the state of Colorado over its policies, or just randomly target pot businesses in the state, crippling the economy and sacking a burgeoning way of life. He could also direct more money into neighboring states to help stem violence related to marijuana, which he believes happens more than "one would think."

"Sessions seems hellbent to take us back to the 1980s, where the answer to public health problems like drug use are SWAT Teams, guns, handcuffs and prison, and not investing in communities," Edwards told me.

Regardless of whether Sessions ramps up enforcement, DeCoste, the Nebraska border county sheriff, insists he's not pulling people over for fun or to prove a point. He just wants to serve the citizens of Deuel County— all 1,900 or so of them.

"Some people think we're the 'buzzkill county,' but we're trying to do the job the right way," he told me. "We want to be respected by our county, meaning the citizens in it. If they think we're doing the right thing, that's what matters. So it sucks being considered unfair in some people's eyes, but in all honesty, I know I'm not going to make everyone happy. If you want to legalize weed, that's your thing. Unfortunately, weed is illegal here, and we have a duty to do our job."

Follow Max Rivlin-Nadler on Twitter.

A Definitive List of the Best Things to Watch While Stoned

You can do anything while you're stoned, and the ever-increasing varieties of ways to consume THC—from edible to palm-sized vape—expands the range of weed-head activities even wider. But any discerning stoner will tell you that nothing quite beats zoning out and just looking at stuff—whether it's a good (or hilariously bad) movie or TV show, a strange curio on your phone screen, or the beautiful expanse that is the world around you. 

So in the spirit of 4/20, we asked VICE employees to share some of their favorite visual experiences—past and present—after taking a toke. Who knows, maybe you'll pick up a recommendation or two in the process. —Larry Fitzmaurice, Senior Culture Editor, Digital

'Jesus Christ Superstar'

Despite hating musicals and having a complicated relationship with religion, the 1973 adaptation of Jesus Christ Superstar is one of my absolute favorite movies and has been burned into my brain since childhood. So of course, every Easter weekend I make my friends get incredibly high and watch it. It's already a ridiculous film—a rock opera about the Passion of the Christ!—but weed only heightens the absurdity, from on-purpose anachronisms (machine guns in the marketplace; Judas chased by tanks) to the silly musical numbers (a shirtless King Herod, in tinted sunglasses and white shorts, sing-demands that Jesus walk across a swimming pool). It's weird, trippy, and sad—like everything associated with religion. But if you time it right, you'll be passed out before the crucifixion. — Pilot Viruet, Associate Culture Editor, VICE.com

'Shark Tank'

For any sad person who isn't aware of the premise of Shark Tank: a group of self-made millionaires and billionaire investors hear pitches from small business owners who are looking for money to grow or save their companies. The show very much is hinged on the idea of the American Dream—that you can be saved through capitalism. As a nice socialist lady, I get that this is mostly bullshit—a narrative propagated to keep impoverished people oppressed by tricking them into believing they can become millionaires if they just work a little harder. These are nuances you might not catch sober, but will surely obsess over while stoned—the majestic Americanness of it all, the comfort of buying into the lie. Shark Tank is already perfect enough to consume while sober; but like most things in life, weed improves it. I'm someone who's constantly thinking about the agony and the ecstasy of our fucked up economic system anyways, so why not be high and watching Shark Tank while doing so? — Eve Peyser, Staff Politics Writer, VICE.com

Train Cab Internet Videos

There is no better activity when you are stoned than contemplating the enormity of planet Earth. In the past, it was harder to do this: You might have to use an encyclopedia or just your own dang imagination. The rise of YouTube ostensibly provided a great solution. But even though just about everything is on YouTube, there's no obvious search phrase that says "Show me the world, so that I might dwell upon its majesty"—or so you might think. The answer, it turns out, is actually "train cab video + location," which allows you to pull up a conductor's-eye-view of just about any train route you can think of. Suddenly, you're riding with all the railroad enthusiasts of the world, exploring the scenic byways of Switzerland or Bangladesh at the click of a button. There's enough movement for the video to be engaging, but the image is simple enough to get lost in your thoughts, much like an actual train ride. For the DIY multimedia stoner crowd, train cab videos pair incredibly well with music (this deep house mix set to a ride from Brussels to Amsterdam is particularly good), but the beauty of the medium is that you can do whatever you want with it, just like with the human mind itself. — Kyle Kramer, Features Editor, Noisey

'How to Deal'

Every year for the last—oh, I don't know, ten years?—I've watched How to Deal on 4/20. For the uninitiated, How to Deal is a Mandy Moore teen dramedy from 2003 that has some strange Shakespearean overtones to it, despite not being based on any specific work of Shakespeare. (Adding to the confusion, there's a song on the soundtrack called "Billy Shakespeare," from forgotten teen-popper Skye Sweetnam.) To borrow an old bit from former Saturday Night Live cast member Bill Hader's Stefan character, How to Deal has everything: Dylan Baker working as a vending machine attendant, Allison Janney angrily making a salad, a funeral scene set to the Flaming Lips' "Do You Realize??," Peter Gallagher. It also features Cloris Leachman as the pot-smoking grandmother of Moore's angsty teen Hailey, and if it takes even one joint-sparking scene to cement a film as a stoner classic, then How to Deal can hang capably with Cheech & Chong and the rest of 'em. — Fitzmaurice

'Billions'

I love watching Billions while blasted out of my skull. It's set in a world I'm wholly unfamiliar with—one in which loaded, ruthlessly self-absorbed, power-hungry assholes take great pleasure in fucking one another over. I barely understand what's going on half the time. The show stars Damian Lewis and Paul Giamatti, who play a shady billionaire Wall Street investor and a shady US Attorney who likes to get peed on, respectively. Every time these men open their mouths, a Very Important Life Lesson comes spilling out. Even something as simple as ordering off a lunchtime menu is designed to heap wisdom upon anyone blessed enough to be within earshot. It's. So. Very. Dramatic—and funny (especially Lewis's New York accent). And, I'll say it again, Paul Giamatti gets peed on. 4.20 stars out of five. — Brian McManus, Special Projects Editor, VICE.com

'Antiques Roadshow'

The PBS staple Antiques Roadshow adds drama to the already dramatic process of antique appraisal, and is perfect for when you're stoned. The show's structure is simple: an ordinary American presents an antique to an expert, who explains the history of the item and tells them how much it's worth. The show might be boring to anybody who doesn't have interest in historical artifacts. But to me, the past is full of infinite mystery and wonder, which makes the Roadshow a great high viewing choice, perfect to watch as you drift off to sleep. But if you're feeling wired, there are also many stoner Roadshow games to be played, like guessing the value of each historical gem (take a hit if you're right/take two hits if you're wrong) and speculating on the complex inner lives of the antique-owner and the appraiser. Antiques Roadshow is a blank slate for the stoner mind, a way for you to lazily exercise your imagination and see some truly beautiful heirlooms, trash and everything in between. — Peyser

'Ulysses'

I don't really smoke weed anymore, but when I did, you know what was fucking great? Reading Ulysses. Everyone thinks of it as a difficult novel—and it is—but when you're high, you can let all the early-20th-century-Dublin references wash over you while focusing on the joy and strangeness of the language. Treat it like you would an art film, or a psychedelic painting—more an experience than an exercise in logic. Speaking of which, you can't properly read Ulysses (high or otherwise) while listening to music or interacting with anyone, so don't try it, or you'll get distracted and the whole thing will be a waste. Sorry if this makes me sound like a pretentious asshole. — Harry Cheadle, Senior Editor, VICE.com

Old Footage of Closed Amusement Parks

When I smoke weed and go on YouTube, I'm trying to time travel. Yeah, you can just watch old movies if you want to see the past, but footage from people's old home movie cameras makes the experience more spontaneous and intimate. My favorite kind of old footage is of amusement parks that no longer exist. Lots and lots of old, mom-and-pop parks—like Angela Park in Pennsylvania—have been bulldozed over the years, and the footage of what once was is so shaky and ugly that it almost tricks your brain into thinking you're looking at the present, instead of the ghostly remnants of a good time someone had before you were even born, in a place you'll never be able to actually go. If you only watch footage of one defunct amusement park, make it Pacific Ocean Park, an expensive, ocean-themed park just outside of LA that was the Pepsi to Disneyland's coke until it closed in 1967. At some point, I'm sure people actually went to that place on weed. I wonder if they're dead now. — Mike Pearl, Staff Writer, VICE.com

YouTube

When I'm high, I stay up watching TV—not even TV, but YouTube videos. I watch a string of three-to-30 minute clips so disassociated from one another that, by the time I go to sleep, I don't even remember how I got from parody movie trailers to Christopher Hitchens debating the existence of God. As a result, I don't smoke weed very often. -- Alex Norcia, Copy Editor, VICE Magazine

Instagram Explore

The Instagram explore tab is the digital equivalent of throwing a dart at a map on the wall. It takes you places: You can peer at a gravity-defying infinity pool at a luxury hotel in Indonesia, then you can go to Rome and salivate at the sight of an overstuffed cone of gelato. One minute you're watching an ASMR video of a person sticking their finger in goo, and the next you're looking at the selfie of a guy who plays Gaston at Disney World. A picture of a woman with boulder-sized breasts is immediately followed up by the handiwork of a man who does makeup for the mannequins in New York City department stores. The explore tab has everything. It's fascinating. It's anthropological! And I've lost what probably amounts to several days of my life high on my couch looking at it. -- Leslie Horn, Managing Editor, Noisey

The Back of Your Eyelids

If you're white or hang out with white people, and you've ever gotten high, chances are that jam bands have been involved. This is how it was for me growing up in upstate South Carolina in the 2000s. Because driving was the only way to get anywhere, a lot of my time was spent in cars. And because this was the ultra-conservative South, a lot of these cars were trucks. We'd break out the tunes and stare out the windows. I remember maybe three specific times, bouncing along those country roads—cornfields, treetops, winding roads with their tiny houses and barking dogs and cluttered yards. The one time I will tell you about took place one summer afternoon in a truck. I was stoned out of my mind, an incoming senior in high school going through the kind of fuck-up period that will either awaken or destroy you. That day, I closed my eyes and literally saw music, notes on a scrolling sheet accompanying Dickey Betts and the keyboard players' harmonizing "Jessica" lines. (Next came a row of dancing Grateful Dead bears like we'd all had plastered on our bumpers back then, but that's beside the point.) Despite my inability to actually read music—my guitar playing was self-taught—I felt and saw and knew music like I'd never felt before, and probably never since. I was there but I was also somewhere else I only recognize now, years later, away from gravity bongs and jambands and those stunning, crushing roads. And then, when we got to where we were trying to go, I leaned out the door and puked. -- James Yeh, Culture Editor, VICE.com

'NBA2K' and 'Madden NFL' Matches

Ice breakers were the highlight of every quarter in college. For the uninformed, an ice breaker is what we called a dance party thrown by black fraternities during the first few weeks of class. On my incredibly white college campus, these were an oasis of hip-hop music, twerking, and stepping that made school bearable. Me and my friends had a ritual before every ice breaker: We'd all link up at our homie's with the biggest dorm room to drink 151 and pass around innumerable blunts packed with very shitty weed. While some dudes were ironing their Polo gear or trying to find the right Nikes to match their outfit, others were on the sticks, rocking NBA 2K or Madden. As an insular only-child, I never mastered the art of playing video games with other people—I've always been more of a story-mode dude, with a penchant for games like Grand Theft Auto or Metal Gear Solid. So when the PS3 was fired up for sports games, I'd just fall back, thankful to avoid the heated competition and the inevitable dozens that went with it. I'd just chief a blunt and watch my homies furiously pound their controllers and trash talk each other, while obscure Lil Wayne mixtapes blasted in the background. The ice breakers were amazing, but I often think about all that time I spent in those hangouts before the dance party, watching match after match on cheap Black Friday flatscreen TVs through a haze of blunt smoke. It's one of the best memories I have of my friends and college, because it was a time when we were altogether in the same place. I hope that someday we'll all get to kick it like that again with some weed and some sports video games. If we do, I might even try to get on the sticks. — Wilbert Cooper, Senior Editor, VICE.com

'Yacht Rock'

Yacht rock is trendy now, but long before Thundercat put Michael "You'll Never See Hair This White Again" McDonald and Kenny "Mr. 80s Soundtrack" Loggins on his new album Drunk, a certain corner of the internet spent the last decade celebrating the glory of smooth rock. Yacht Rock is a 2005 webseries of mockumentary-style fan-fiction about the bitter rivalries between the titans of yacht rock in the late 70s and early 80s. It was created for Channel 101, a monthly public access style "film festival" from the minds of Rob Schrab and Dan Hyman, and it's just as stupid as you would imagine. Actually, no, it's definitely more stupid than that. But, when the music's this smooth, who cares? This holiday season, get blazed and let Hollywood Steve show you the world. — Eric Sundemann, Editor-in-Chief, Noisey

'Alias'

What got me through a few grueling wintery-spring months is watching Alias stoned. The SparkNotes version is that I get a little depressed when March feels like death, but this winter, what with our misogynistic now-President, I needed to watch a lady super-spy kick ass. Dare I say, Alias was kind of "woke" way back in the 00s? It was a show on ABC created by J.J. Abrams that once had an episode directed by and starring Quentin Tarantino, and yet its central narrative revolves around female relationships. Also there's at least an attempt at diversity; Garner's partner and best friend were both played by black actors. But like, why the emphasis on cis relationships? And why cast a white actress as Sydney? These are the thoughts I have these days while watching Alias stoned. — Kara Weisenstein, Editor, The Creators Project

'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia'

The depraved sitcom It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia is not prototypical stoner fare, and rarely does pot actually come up in its many episodes. There are exceptions, of course—Frank (Danny DeVito) ripping a bong at the bar in season four and demanding his friends "download" him a "hoagie" off the internet is not to be missed. But Charlie, Dee, Dennis, Mac, and Frank almost exclusively focus their depravity on alcohol—and other people. And yet, I've always found that something about the desperate subversion of the show, its characters' willingness to humiliate themselves and each other—and occasionally engage in outright sociopathy—that has lent itself to getting stoned. Of course, getting high does not intend to induce people to commit violent crimes the way some of the other substances consumed on Sunny do—this is a signature of pot apologia. But a pleasant high can make their scheming and bizarro lifestyles more charming and rewarding, and remind you just how grounded and sane you are in comparison to the maniacs on your screen.— Matt Taylor, News Editor, VICE.com

New York City

I live in Brooklyn. So, if I want to see mountains and shit, I have to go upstate or just somewhere else entirely. You know what, though? I still find the capacity for wonder in my metropolitan environment. Sometimes I wholly envelope myself around it, allowing my emotions to be taken over by the sheer magnitude of city architecture and the teeming rushes of life that swarm around them. One of my favorite things to do when I'm stoned is walk around Manhattan, listen to M83—specifically, "Graveyard Girl" or "Don't Save Us From the Flames" or "Kim and Jessie" or anything off of Hurry Up, We're Dreaming—and look at the gigantic buildings around me with an overwhelming sense of awe. Sometimes I think about the people inside them, how they're doing something different from me at that very moment—working, sleeping, watching TV, making food, caring for each other... It makes me feel more secure about my own place in this gigantic world. It gives me peace. — Fitzmaurice

El catador de Marihuana

ES Creador de la página web www.marijuanagames.org, donde sube sus reseñas y guía al público y a los consumidores hasta las mejores variedades de yerba de Barcelona, el día a día de Russ Hudson es ir de club en club y encontrarse con managers y expertos del sector. El host de DIARIO VICE Pedro García y Russ, que fuma a diario desde los 13 años para tratarse la ansiedad y se echa un canuto antes de correr 10 kilómetros cada dos días, recorren los sabores y efectos de una planta que, según Naciones Unidas, a pesar de que solo en España hay más de 300 clubes de cannabis, sigue siendo la sustancia ilícita más consumida del planeta. VICE habla con el catador y consultor de marihuana Russ Hudson y con varias figuras y expertos de la industria del cannabis que, como él, se preocupan de la calidad del producto. ---- EN Russ Hudson is the creator www.marijuanagames.org, a website in which he publishes cannabis reviews and consumer guides of the best varieties of weed in Barcelona. His everyday life consists of going from club to club, and meeting up with managers and industry experts. DIARIO VICE’s host, Pedro García, meets up with Russ, who smokes daily since he was 13 as a treatment for his anxiety, and smokes a joint before running 10 kilometers every two days. Russ goes over the flavors and effects of a plant which, according to the U.N., is the world’s most consumed illegal substance. Only in Spain, there are more than 300 cannabis clubs. VICE spoke with the marijuana consultant and taster Russ Hudson, as well as with many industry experts, who, like him, are invested in the quality of this product.

Season Three of Weediquette Deals with Pot in Trump’s America

Wednesday night—a.k.a. tonight—VICELAND's Weediquette returns for its third season, which sees host Krishna Andavolu traversing across the United States to explore the emergent issues facing marijuana culture and its participants. In advance of tonight's premiere, we sat down with Andavolu to talk about what to expect in the new season, whether the show's focus shifted after Trump's election, and what he's learned about pot culture while hosting the show:

VICE: What were you taking into consideration when picking the stories you'd cover for this season?
Krishna Andavolu: We were looking for stories of people's lives that are hanging in the balance when it comes to whether pot is legal or illegal. We were surprised at the renewed focus on what marijuana means in the Trump administration. There was some time where it was considered a matter of time that federal legalization would happen, but that's been stopped in its tracks. We've been looking for the ways that marijuana culture and the values that define it intersect with what's odious about what's happening in our halls of power. Marijuana culture is anti-authoritarian—it's about calling things hypocritical when you see it, and individual liberty versus the false goods that people are trying to sell you. We're trying to match up stories that express what marijuana culture is, in opposition to the culture that politics seems to be at today.

You guys started work on the new season before the election, too.
Yeah. The first episode is about deportations, and how even if you're a legal resident of the country and you get caught with marijuana in places where it's illegal, thanks to the system of information sharing between local and federal authorities you can be deported. We follow the story of a family who's been split apart as the result of a pot arrest—you see at every moment that there's a kind of injustice that's being performed upon citizens of this country because pot is still illegal. We conceived of that story prior to the election, but it became a renewed focus once the new administration took power. It expresses what we believe pot culture is about: community, empathy, and not demonizing an other, but accepting the other as a part of yourself.

The second episode is about parents who are finding success in treating their autistic kids with cannabis, struggling to access pot and breaking the law with them as they do it. The third story is about the unintended consequences of legalization, and how the flow of pot has stopped going from Mexico and South America into the US, but instead from California to New York. The fourth story is about stoned driving, which is a really interesting intellectual conundrum when it comes to what it means to be stoned. Is being high an impairment? The short answer is yes, it can be—but finding what that limit is and punishing people accordingly is very difficult. As it stands now, the state's response to it has to been to punish rather than to try to understand. The fifth episode is about PTSD and trauma in urban communities. While crime across the country has gone down over the last few years, violent and gun-related crime are on rise in cities like St. Louis, Chicago, and Los Angeles. We're investigating how marijuana is helping people cope with that trauma, and how both the police and the communities being policed have been affected by that trauma.

Is there a unifying theme that runs throughout this season?
The first season was about family, the second season was about community, and the third season is about resistance—resisting counterfactual arguments and trying to understand what pot means in that context. Also, what are the values that constitute cannabis culture? In every story, we try to see what they are.

As the host of the show, you're also learning about these topics along with your audience. What do you feel like you've learned over the course of making this show?
People feel really hopeful—that the realities they've experienced and lived are being more widely understood. But there's still a lot of basic optimism that the illogic of prohibition will dissolve when it happens. People are excited to share their lives and experiences, because they know that the representation of these issues and the realities they live is how the notions that pot is bad get wiped away.

What kind of stigmas do you think are still associated with pot?
Being stoned means something different for people who get stoned than it does for people who don't get stoned. The actual phenomenological state of stoned-ness is in itself a political act, and until the people who get stoned are in power, the first option for any government entity will be to punish people rather than try to understand what they're going through. Weed has taken on a renewed political importance, and it's something that needs to be fought for as a way of marshaling people together.

You can catch Weediquette on VICELAND. Find out how to watch here .

How to Make Pot Pancakes with Weed Butter

Abdullah Saeed knows what's up when it comes to waking and baking. On this episode of 'Smokeables,' follow along as VICE's pot expert whips up a couple of pancakes using weed butter and just a handful of other ingredients.

Weed Leaf [This graphic has been modified]
By Sixth Planet, UA

Butter [This graphic has been modified]
By Alberto Gongora, CA

Arrow
By Giovanni Pompetti

Kitchen Timer
By Christopher Beach, US

Beep Signs and Slam Sign
By Courtney Nicholas

Zoom Out [This graphic has been modified]
By icon 54

Bag [This graphic has been modified]
By Linseed Studio, US

Cookies
By Nathan Stang, US

Cake
By Nook Fulloption, TH

Beef
By Kokota, EE

Roast
By ProSymbols, US

Popcorn
By IconDots, IN

Pancakes
By Nherwin Ardona, PH

Arrows Pointing at Milk
By Courtney Nicholas

Batter Being Poured from Cup
By Courtney Nicholas