If Nietzsche were alive today, he would have to declare, “Pott ist tot.” Pot is dead. In Nietzsche’s time, as in ours, these sorts of uber deaths occur long before most people notice. Indeed, there are still worshipers who attend church on Sunday even though god has been dead an ungodly long time; and most people mos def still cling to their pot, pipes, and papers despite the evidence of science, aesthetics, and the like.
Nevertheless, pot is dead. Deader than a pile of grotty roaches in a dirty ashtray. Deader than Jerry Garcia. Deader than phone booths or analog clocks. Weed is, like, so 1973. So is rolling joints, the Rolling Stones, cleaning bongs, drinking the bong water, burning a hole in your tie-dyed shirt, or having your dealer stuff a bag of weed in your face as though you’re supposed to be impressed with the smell when he wouldn’t known a terpene from a trichome.
Admittedly, four out of five smokers still get off the old school way; but ten years ago just about everybody did; and ten years from now pot smokers will be disappearing faster than white people in this country. All the hip kids will be representin’ that the vape pen is mightier than the roach clip.
Such was the conclusion reached by the University of Michigan’s Monitoring the Future Panel, which reported that last year marijuana use had reached “historic highs[sic]” not seen since 1983. The study also found that vaping marijuana as well as nicotine had doubled between 2017 and 2018.
You do the math, if you’re not too stoned: pot smoking will eventually be reduced to a roach too small to keep lit without setting your mustache on fire. In the meantime, expect to see a lot of glassy-eyed people walking around with burn holes in their mustaches.
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