Ahh, the munchies. How I loved you. Though I no longer smoke weed (a handy case of cannabis-inspired anxiety put that habit to bed about two years ago), the aspect that I without a doubt miss the most is the munchies. Eating, as for most cool humans, is already one of my favorite things. That a leafy green plant could take the foods I already loved and take them to a totally new level was astounding from the first time I hit a bong.

The trip to the fridge/pantry/deli post-blaze is of the utmost importance, lest you have to venture back out to satisfy a powerful craving of an item sadly forgotten. After all, everyone has that one specific item that they just must have, even if it’s something weird (I knew a kid who swore by cough drops, but hey, it’s his high). Nevertheless, there are some foods that definitely fall in the “munchies” umbrella, and I’ve tried to collect the best here. I avoided items that required using the oven or stove because fuck that, as well as sit down restaurants. I’m sure getting baked out of your skull and eating at The French Laundry would be awesome, but that’s not really achievable for everyone. So, without further adieu, here are the High Five. Man.

Honorable Mention: Whatever The Fuck You Have Laying Around

This, really, is the beauty of the munchies. There are no rules! I considered putting this at number one, but decided that was probably a cop out. Nevertheless, some of my favorite munchie memories are of totally random shit, usually combined with peanut butter or Nutella. Or weird leftovers, like beef stroganoff or stuffed cabbage. Got cheeses? Grind’em up over that shit and hit it to the microwave son!

Fruit cups? Slurp’em down like there’s no tomorrow. Go through a bakers doz’ and ruin your stomach. String cheese, of course, luncheon meats (wrap some kraft singles around them, don’t be scared little buddy), deviled eggs, stale chips magically become good again, weird frozen dinners, that one starfruit, white bread + condiments, and pretty much anything else.

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5. Powdered Hostess Donuts/Donettes

Some people – read: fools – will tell you that you need to take the trek out to your local bakery to pick up some fresh n’ warm donuts for maximum munchie effectiveness. Not the case! Nothing is better than a sleeve of powdered (powdered only! fuck outta here with the devil’s food) Hostess donuts. If you’ve done this before, you will know that whatever weird chemicals is in the processed powdered sugar produces a strange tingly cold feeling (like those weird “cold” gums) in a stoned person’s taste buds.

It’s part taste experience and part sensory hallucination and all fun. Plus, if you’re feeling real plexx you can throw them down in one bite, or rock the whole sleeve like Homer Simpson out of that donut hopper in that one Treehouse of Horror. Also, extremely cheap/easy to procure.

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4. Cereal & Milk/Momofuku Cereal Milk Ice Cream

This is sort of my highbrow/lowbrow category. Plus, I had to do at least one actual NYC shoutout. But I didn’t want to be exclusive, so the first option is good old cereal and milk. I would suggest Frosted Flakes, Cap’n Crunch (though those can do some terrible damage to the roof of your mouth if you’re really grubbin’ down), Oreo O’s (if you have a time machine), Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Strawberry HBO’s. The milk will prevent cottonmouth, and then you can drink its sugary goodness at the end.

Which brings me to my next point: Momofuku Milk Bar products in general, but most importantly their cereal milk concoctions. An idea so devious it could only come from the devil himself. Or, more likely, Momofuku pastry chef Christina Tosi. They basically do the hard part for you (I use that term loosely), by soaking delicious cereals in milk, bottling it, and selling it to you for a fair price. Or turning it into a soft serve. Fuck, that stuff is delicious. Plus, it sorta feels like you’re eating something from Willy Wonka.

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3. Frozen Charleston Chews

Alright, so maybe this is my kind of personal item, but I really think everyone would love it if they tried it. If you’re a Charleston Chew consumer, you probably already do this, but this particular candybar is inexplicably not very popular. They also don’t sell them everywhere, and sometime they only have wack flavors. Don’t fuck around, you want the classic, the ones in the yellow wrapper. And not the minis. Totally different experience.

Throw that taffy/milk chocolate wonderstick in your freezer for a little while and then take a big bite. Make sure you don’t break your teeth. Once again you get a fun cold sensation, but within second the crunchy taffy will go through an invigorating state-change from crystalline and solid to super chewy, like a Now N’ Later in high speed. It’s like a science experiment, but covered in chocolate. PROTIP: if you’re feeling extra stoney, chase with grape soda for bonus loss of self-worth.

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2. In-N’-Out Double Double w/ Pink Lemonade

I like In N’ Out. I don’t love it like the rest of my California brethren do. It’s a very good burger (I prefer the fries, to be honest) but I don’t necessarily think it’s the end all be all. Except I will cop to the fact that it is a fantastic stoner location. It has palm trees, and that funky diner aesthetic that wards off any negative thoughts. The menu is small and easily memorizable, so you won’t have to think about your order or get overwhelmed (that’s the big danger of Sonic).

Plus, ordering off the “secret” menu feels more clandestine when you’re high, even though everyone and their mother knows about animal style and the flying dutchman and whatever else. The shakes are hearty and packed with sugar, but the real beverage choice must be the pink lemonade. They know it’s good, that’s why it gets its own fountain. Grab your DD from those friendly Mormon’s and chow down: you’re in America now!

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1. Fridge Pizza

Congratulations to you, cold pizza from out the fridge, you are officially the best stoner food! Take a bow! Now, when this list started you knew pizza was going to be on it. Probably near the top. But you probably thought it would be fresh or at least freshly delivered. Incorrect. There are myriad reasons why morning/day or two day (don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone) old pizza is much better.

Firstly, you have instant control over the temperature. You can have it cold, which I prefer and is totally good. Want a little heat? Microwave. Fresh delivered pizza is often mouth burningly hot, but you want to tuck in now! What to do? Put it in the freezer? C’mon man, have some self respect. Also, if it’s in the fridge, it doesn’t really feel like you’re buying it (or at least, you don’t have to transact money then and there). It’s like a wondrous gift, especially if you forgot you had it. Finally, given some time in the fridge, the flavors of the different toppings can really marry together and take on new and interesting dimensions. The cheese (and some other stuff) develops glutamic acid crystals for a boost of Umami goodness.

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So there you have it. What’re your favorites?

I told you when I last did a post about this crew it wouldn’t be the last. I’m not quite sure what the hell they are talking about, but I’m sure it’s tripped out and full of swag per usual. “#BEEST” as a video takes a journey into the typical morning of the men behind those SweetTeam masks that we know and love. It’s also the newest installment in the musical journey from #TeamPanini.

“Got Damn” is far more hype including dubstep and grime elements to smack your eardrums with that swag straight from Antwerp, Belgium. Go rep #TeamPanini on twitter and follow the mastermind behind it allhimself, #SWEK!

Hey there readers. I hope everyone’s been tapping into their extrasensory abilities while I’ve been on hiatus because this here video is a reel paranormal doozy so to speak. Directed by my college cohort Taylor Cohan, Psychic Cheerleaders: Dawn of the New Age strings one’s (sub)consciousness along a cosmic continuum through the lives of two very gifted girls. This student film is something to behold and it doesn’t hurt that these high school hotties sport their cheerleading uniforms throughout.

Tones shift effortlessly from that of a charmingly campy teen dream to a paranoid REM night terror and back in the blink of your mind’s eye, as Courtney and Sarah learn the true meaning of their powers. The short tips its hat to auteurs like Lynch and Polanski as the mundane, helped along by deadpan dialogue and a droning score, metamorphoses into a psychological free-for-all. It’s an acid-laced after school special that, between you and me, will most likely be getting the feature-length treatment.

But alas I shan’t spoil anything else! Enough jaw-flapping then, I’ll let the images speak for themselves. Check his Vimeo page for past, present, and future work from this promising young filmmaker. Until next time.

MY sincere apologies in the delay between these things. Life still ain’t easy, and while there is definitely plenty fun out here, there’s a lot of work too. I’ve been trying to find a job in cannabis for the past couple of weeks, but alas no luck. Things are pretty fucked right now, but lemme jump back to October to really tell it:

If you’ll recall the previous account of my journey in the 2011 harvest I left you last when I had just arrived to my first scene of the season. It was either in South East Humboldt, or North East Mendocino. Tough to say which, and pressing for those kinds of facts is not exactly the best idea. There is a very familial and open element at most scenes, but that sentiment exists with some serious restrictions. Of course folks want you to feel comfortable posting up for weeks on end, and working in less than ideal conditions. So, the folks who run the scenes—who are usually not the same folks who were in charge of growing all the peace—are usually heavy with the motherly instincts, and they try to be as accommodating as possible.

They want you to feel like you can ask for what you need, and they want you to feel like you’re safe and comfortable. But, there is a kind of unspoken limit to that. Basically, facts, and numbers are taboo as you can probably imagine. And while I certainly could have asked someone if we were in Humboldt or Mendocino, I wasn’t really trying to start off as the dude pressin for facts. I was however, trying to start off trimming at least a pound a day.

Trimming a pound a day is the basic goal. It puts you at $200 per day which, even though those days are usually more than 10 hours long, is pretty good money considering the lack of expenses. The amount you trim in a day depends on you, but it also depends on what your’e working with. And this year, that second part of the equation, the variable part, was postin low low numbers. My first day was a half day and I probably trimmed around 200 grams. Which is a little less than a half pound. The peace we were working with wasn’t the greatest, but I wasn’t mad at it. But all I heard was “Oh my god this is so much better than the last stuff! This is the best stuff so far.”

That’s not what you wanna hear when you’re just showin up. But, you take it with a grain of salt too. Most people at trim scenes don’t work as hard as me, don’t know as much about peace as me, and generally seem to be on a different journey. I say this not to brag, but just to put it in perspective. So, while folks were talkin that bleak shit, I wasn’t really hearin it completely. But it registered, and in the first moments of my work for the 2011 season the seed for the theme was planted: no fuckin dice Mr. Moldof. There will be no incredible payout this season, only a reasonable payout (which I am grateful for, so don’t get it twisted) an incredible workload. But I didn’t know that yet.

The first day on a scene is always odd. You’re finding your way around, figuring out the workflow, figuring out where you’re trying to post, figuring out who you don’t wanna sit by, et cetera. It may sound dickish, but you figure this is endless contract work. If you’re surrounded by people or things that distract you your numbers for the day will reflect that. But it’s a choice. You can choose to work slow, and easy, and just not make a lot of money. But I don’t get with that, and that mentality makes me really uneasy, so I’m usually posted alone, with headphones, not tryin to do anything except trim peace. This was no different, and the impending doom of massive student loan debt, no job, credit card payments, and a life out of balance with the status quo was enough motivation to push me to stay bout those grams in my bag.

That’s how it goes, just grams at a time stackin up in a brown paper grocery bag. The big kind with handles. A pound is usually roughly half of the bag, and I was tryin to hit the half every day. You gotta be focused which means chiefin lots of peace, drinkin lots of tea. But you also gotta be human. So, of course, if you’re a real human with thoughts and feelings you’re not gonna be 100% work. You gotta socialize too. And this, Bloglin readers, is where we find ourselves in contradiction to the typical folks who make up a trim scene.

I guess some people are just good at sitting down with whoever, and feeling equally comfortable every time. Me? Not so much. And, as fate would have it young Zachg is very often out of place at a trim scene. On the surface it’s a bunch of young-middle aged folks with white skin. But for me—and likely for a lot of the other folks reading the Bloglin—the commonalities end there. Very few of these folks are Jewish, not that this is a huge deal for me (nor is it some defacto character of Bloglin readers), but it plays its part. There are a lot of hippies, and a lot of burners. Now, I don’t have anything against either of these lifeways, but I think they’re pretty divergent from my own. Very simply I’m a rap dude, and trim scenes are mostly hippy folks.

That’s reductive, but it’s true, and it’s the most efficient way to cover an otherwise tenuous explanation of two things that are different in ways that don’t need to be addressed in words (trust me, I typed and un-typed that several times). It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, but let’s just say I can’t be my full and true self at a trim scene because many of my comments, habits, and actions are not taken kindly. So, while the social aspect is there, it is strangely detached for me because I know that I am surrounded by people with whom I have very little in common. Aside from trimming world peace.

Hit the Jump for the rest!

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I call weed peace now. Whenever I can remember. It makes a pretty great juxtaposition if you ask me, and it keeps me focused on what I’m doing with my life. If you’ve been keeping up with my tales on the bloglin then you probably know I was back out for the annual outdoor cannabis harvest this year. I didn’t want to be at all. I wanted to be in the Bay working an almost normal job, getting my life together, and makin tunes with my homies. But, as fate (or some cruel omnipotent Curb Your Enthusiasm enthusiast) would have it, it wasn’t in the cards for me this year. After spending the last year hustlin hard to barely scrape by, and live in an art studio with no bathroom, or kitchen, I was ecstatic when I landed a decent-paying job as a consultant and delivery driver for Northstone Organics. I thought to myself, “See Zach, you make your way in this world eating shit, but then things work out. Now you can get yourself a proper home.” And that is exactly what I set about doing.

I packed up all my shit into a storage unit, moved out of the studio, and started looking for a place while I stayed with friends. About 2 weeks into my home search the DEA raided Northstone, and I went from employed and finding a home, right back to unemployed, broke, and homeless. There was only one thing I could think to do: Trim World Peace. It’s not glamorous work, you gotta invest money to do it right, and the payout is totally unpredictable. And, unfortunately this was a bad year for the outdoor cannabis crop, but I wouldn’t know that for another 6 weeks yet. So, on pretty much a moment’s notice I packed up 2 duffels with all my camping gear, all my trimming gear, documentary equipment, and some clothes, and I got on a Greyhound.

It was a huge bummer for me. On one hand I was just plain bummed about my life. The degree to which money, and firm ground to stand on evade me can be discouraging to say the least. And this was just the latest in an ongoing series of major setbacks that have come to characterize my time in California. It doesn’t feel good to dedicate your life to actions and ideals, and have those actions ideals lead you astray. I mean, I’ve definitely been on my path the whole time, and it’s obvious in retrospect. But as all the shit goes down, I just wind up feeling like some fucking bum who is dedicating his life to some childish pursuit with no real import to anyone who takes life seriously.

Then on top of that I had to drop everything I was involved in to go camp on a mountain for 5 or 6 weeks. And if that wasn’t enough I had booked a ticket to fly to New York for Halloween. Halloween is my favorite time in New York because everyone cuts loose. I haven’t been back to New York since I left in the Summer of 2010. I miss a lot of my friends, and to top it all off, I couldn’t get any kind of refund on the ticket. Cool. Geez, looking back on it like this makes it seem pretty shitty—which it was—but I didn’t realize I guess. I was just trying to stay positive, and knowing that I’d be seeing friends in Humboldt was enough to not bother with gettin bummed. I aint no sissy.

Hit the jump for more!

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Oh shit! Bet you forgot huh? Well we didn’t. Rad Reef teamed up with Мишка to bring you the most epic solution t o the problem you probably never really cared that you had: you probably don’t know much about weed even though you smoke it constantly. Well, woopty fucking doo cause here goes the pilot episode fo Piffbusters! It’s a show that we came up with to help folks get to the truth about cannabis. Living in a prohibition state can make it difficult to find reliable cannabis information. Even for folks in California, or other medical states where information is more readily available, it’s still difficult to find solid answers to your questions about cannabis. I know I grew up in a prohibition state, and then moved to California, and that was exactly what I experienced: lots of weed, and very little truth. Lucky for you I’ve spent the last year making a living in the cannabis industry, and making friends with some great folks. And lucky for all of us, those great folks are willing to help us find the answers to our most pressing questions about weed. For this episode we got soem help from Steep Hill Laboratory to get the facts about Purp, and whether or not it’s inherently better than green weed. The results were definitely surprising.

The doctors, scientists, and experts we have access to can answer any questions you might have. So, if you’ve got a question about weed post it in the comments, and as we continue producing these pieces we’ll bring you the truth. Oh, and keep an eye out for a guest appearance from one of your favorite cloud rappers. It’s not cool to be dumb about your drugs.

Chowing down on state-altering fungus is hardly new to the world of Video Games. They even named that one place the mushroom kingdom: it’s practically a birth right to get high there. But, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that Mario’s skirt-chasing adventures were the epitome of a bad trip: you spend your whole time there chasing some mystical piece of ass that seems to slip further and further out of your grasp whilst bloodthirsty reptiles throw hammers, fireballs and their spiked kin at you, oh, and don’t forget all that time you spend crawling around in sewers. You could end up with dysentery. Looking for something better? Come to Skyrim. It’s the kind of game that allows you to speedball all kinds of narcotics and then go punch a dragon in the face, or splash around in the town fountain: whatever, I won’t judge.

To help you avoid the same pitfalls as our plumber friend, I present to you my definitive guide to getting wasted in Skyrim.

For the Blue Collar:
What does the working schlub want? A beer, and then nineteen more. And why not? After a hard day toiling in the nearest dwarf mine, busting your hump just to keep that crappy straw roof over your head you should be entitled to a few brews. Luckily, the land of Skyrim caters well to its blue-collared grunts with a wide selection of cheap piss to help you wash away the misery of existence. Mead, Ale, Wine and Brandy can be found in abundance, plus there’s the added bonus that you’ll probably get served by a buxom wench. Drink until you confess your undying love for her, or just whip your length/sword out because she’s bound to be impressed by that, right?

For the Thrill-Seeker:
Skyrim is hardly teeming with convenient  pills and powders, but the industrious thrill-seeker can certainly find more than a few ways to achieve the highs that they so crave. Do you dig Alchemy? You do now. Pretend that you’re the guy from Malcolm in the Middle if it helps. Scouring the landscape and raiding the corpses of your fallen enemies will see you accumulating all sorts of bizarre ingredients. As soon as you get your alchemy game locked down you can chase more than just dragons, my friend. A multitude of potions and spells await you and best of all, you just cut out the middle-man. You are the source. Life tip: learn how to make your own drugs to save money and avoid shady dealings with the underworld: it’s win-win!

Personal choice: Frenzy. Combine Blisterwort, Falmer Ear, Fly Amanita, Hagraven Feathers, Human Heart, and some Troll Fat and you’ll have yourself bouncing off the walls and trying to drink the blood of anyone within a two foot radius. Good times.

For the Nature-Lover:
If Mother Nature hadn’t intended us to get high, then why did she paint the landscape with such a cornucopia of hallucinogens and stimulants, man? Become one with the earth and wear that burlap sack vest with pride. You care not for speedballs, projectile vomiting and intimate bleeding. That shit is for the rat race, dude. Become one with nature and see all of its beauty through a kaleidoscope haze.

Nirnroot, Namira’s Rot and Bleeding Crown should be your plants of choice. Ice Trolls, Pit Wolves and pissed-off giants will worry you no more, because you have experienced and witnessed truths beyond truth. We’re all part of the same beautiful energy stream and we should all merge and swirl through the trees –absorbing their beauty- whilst we travel for eternity towards…..what? Uhhh………. Dave’s not here, man.

Strictly For the Hardcore:
Skooma. Now this shit is bad: real bad. This is the Elder Scrolls equivalent of crack: highly addictive, illegal and smoked in a special pipe. Get your crack-head swag on with this nasty business. Sure, it’s great to begin with: the euphoria flows through your body and you can take on even the most powerful of beasts.

But then, it gets dark. You need it twice a day, then three times, four times, five, you lose count. Before you know it you’re giving an Orc an old-fashioned or blowing Bandits just to get yourself a fix. You sold all of your armour, your house in Whiterun has become some sort of junkie beehive and you’ve been pushed out. You break into the general goods store to fund your habit and you get caught. A day later you’re in the shittiest hovel that Skyrim has to offer. You’re going cold turkey whilst taking it in the ass from Big Daddy Khajiit. Ever been bummed by a giant cat before? Try Skooma and you may just find out how it feels.

Take heed of my words, adventurers and you shall have the most fulfilling journey through the land of Skyrim. Pick every plant, sample every dish and punch every dragon right in the beak. Those guys are dicks, give ‘em one from me.

I’m on the mountain. I came down for a day to tie up some last loose ends and I may not have internet for the next month save a few trips. But I tried to make it fruitful. I wrote a bunch of reviews for the Bloglin, I made that video, and I did a bunch of other stuff such as laundry that’s not worth mentioning. I’m posting it in Standard Deviance for obvious reasons. The other one which is my raps over the “N***as in Paris” beat is perhaps less obvious. The title though, if you’ve paid attention to the column over the last year, should bare some significance.

Arcata is basically the mecca of the Emerald Triangle. It’s where people congregate, and drifters drift. At this time of year there are tons of trimmers in Arcata. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s been like that for a long time. Children have grown up there and turned out alright. In fact they seem more level-headed than a lot of other Americans I’ve known. It’s all just puns in the end.

This is a lil’ different for us, but it’s awesome nonetheless. We made a short film along with the good folks from NoPromo. We hope you like it cause we sure do.

Brooklyn streets are weird enough as is without the aid of certain sticky green enhancers. Fortunately, its all in a days work for the kid, who’s more than just his routine, who he serves and what he’s pitching. This cycle is far from ordinary. With a few special customers, and some chance encounters, this one day snapshot of a Brooklyn delivery guy takes a few unusual detours and gets into the mental of “The Green Monster.”

Featuring Nick Catchdubs, Andrew W.K., & Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire, and introducing Alex Jackson as “The Kid.” Directed by NoPromo.

Cannabis is heating the fuck up right now. And, from what homies back East, and down South have been telling me, there is not a lot of news coverage exposing what Obama’s “non-interfering” federal government has been up to (please fill me in in the comments if you have any links or leads on existing stories). Over the course of roughly 2 weeks a group of meddling individuals in a number of government branches have managed to launch a coordinated effort to disrupt California’s medical cannabis industry, and the supply chain of safe and affordable medicine for those with a very real medical need.

The motives are still unclear, but two things are certain: this is a reminder/wake up call of how real this business is, and Obama has lost the support of California’s cannabis industry and has instead garnered its disdain. For those of us abiding by the state’s laws, creating jobs, paying taxes, strengthening communities, and opting out of a corrupt system of labor this rash of recent federal actions is a slap in the face. Remember Obama’s claim that his administration wouldn’t interfere? Well, here’s a summary of a few of the recent events that have taken place under his administration, and which have not garnered even a peep from Barack Obama the nation’s first black president, and an admitted cannabis smoker:

IRS says cannabis businesses can’t deduct business expenses because they are illegal businesses. Thus people owe back-taxes, and they’re claiming that Harborside owes $2 million.

ATF says cannabis patients can’t buy new firearms and have to hand over existing firearms because cannabis patients are addicts.

DEA has started raiding a number of the most legitimate, law abiding, tax-paying, regulation-conforming dispensaries (including my main employer). Word in the industry is that it’s likely smash and grab cash-thieving.

California DAs are grasping for straws and threatening bystanders. Northern California DA Melinda Haag is going after land owners who rent to dispensaries, and sent letters threatening to seize properties if landlords don’t evict cannabis tenants.

Federal officials claim that they are “cleaning up” but this is a total farse. In their 30 year war on drugs the black market has grown. In the 15 years of California’s medical cannabis program we have succeeded in creating the only solution to the black market; a legal market that is safe; a legal market that provides jobs; a legal market that doesn’t foster the growth of illicit drug cartels; a legal market that supports the values of those who founded this nation in opposition to a tyrannical and exploitative ruling class.

My main employer of late was one of those shut down in recent DEA raids. The federal government took my job away. But they’re still calling for me to pay my credit card bills, and pay my student loans. I’m on the streets if it wasn’t for the grace of friends. What am I supposed to do? I know what I feel like doing, but I’d never be foolish enough to document it anywhere. I don’t know how you’re feeling but I hope it involves outrage. The folks out here in California fighting for their rights are fighting for the rights of everyone in this nation.

Don’t get mad, don’t get even, don’t get fed up. Start strategizing, and start organizing, and wait for the call. I refuse to abide this, and I intend to do something. In fact, I’ve already begun. Head over to HR2306 and read up, because that bill is going to be a major part of organizing people across the country. Legit though, this is some real life Star Wars type of shit. There is an evil oppressor at work, and there is a group of rebels who have been maintaining a resistance for decades. This is real as fuck, this is about freedom, this is life or death, this really is the future of our people. I know you can’t see it from the outside, but the cannabis/hemp industry is going to play a large role in the re-casting of our nation. It’s putting power and money back into the hands of the working class, and it’s putting sustenance back into communities. If you ever bought or sold weed then you are part of the resistance. Get ready to rise the fuck up.