From “Random House Webster’s College Dictionary”
Critical: adj. 1. inclined to find fault, or judge severely.
Mass: n. 1. a body of coherent matter, usu. of indefinite shape.
In my blogs here, I speak often on the subject of critical mass. I will also refer to this term as, “crit-mass,” for ease (laze) of writing fewer letters. Work smarter, not harder. That’s the American way! It shows, by the way. If you,snob-robed executives would take a personal interest in the filth that you pedal as “goods,” when that be the farthest representation of the truth.
An economy built on distrust. Erosion of character. Corrosion of quality, strikes up a qualm with me. Alas, I write to excite all the minds in line with this train of thought. Always popular. Never taboo. Choo! Choooo! Crit-mass’o’cannibus, upon realization, will look like January First, 2000. Whole towns’ not in frenzies, rather, befriending the people we could not come clean with. Maybe a co-worker. Maybe a cop. Maybe a teacher. Maybe we all could have been best friends long ago. But this prohibition turns us against each other.Almost every name is on that list, by the by. If not currently circumventing legal precedents, via illegal methods, of course. Black market: a product of the governmental police state, creating unregulated and potentially dangerous for those immediately involved, or even in the general vicinity of due to ballistic advances.
Wow! What a nice tangent. Now, back to the task at hand, Cannabis! Our brains are built to receive this sacrament. Receptors completed by the THC molecular structure. Filling gaps while making room. Move over, Red Rover! Can cannabis come over? She gonna fulfill a need. She gon’ release you from this inherent need to follow standard protocol. We are all adults here. If you are reading this, and you can discern the message, then you have sufficient logic to maintain right from wrong. From childhood on, I always remember awareness of that finite line. Sometimes less defined, but still, when in doubt, don’t take a chance of being wrong. The consequence for a wrong of such magnitude surely will carry with it, the gravity of your mass in cosmic energy, displaced.
I was born in the ’80’s. I was raised with the notion that “weed” was the worst. “Gateway Drug.” I never even saw the stuff ’til I was sixteen. Two years then elapsed. No drugs in between. I guess the gateway they spoke of, was just a metaphor, propaganda. All it took was self-awareness, question authority, do your own foraging, for research. Never take another’s word until you can corroborate their story. Back it up with facts, Jack. Don’t need to discuss much.
The dirt (lies), thrown in our eyes, has settled. Open ’em wide. What seems like a minute affair, in a world compiled high ontop of violence, atop of violence. Milestones behind us disguised as us thriving. Blood of our foes, seeps through to our soul. Making each step to follow much harder to follow suit. Fall over soon after your head pops. Ego got too full.