Uncle G’s 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#07) “MEDICATED MOMENTS”

WARNING! WARNING! (age 21+ Cannabis)

16 February 2018
Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews – Uncle G’s Corner (#07) “MEDICATED MOMENTS”

Words and Street Lamp Photography by Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Seeing how this is an archival website, I’d like to introduce to my newer 420 readers, a series of essays I did for a non-profit pro-cannabis website out of New York City, some years ago. One that I’ve been involved with since the year 2011. The webmistress is the wonderful Arlene Williams aka Ganja Granny. I love her to death! The website: Green Ribbon World.

Please note … regarding this republishing. We’re going back in time. Six years ago. I was married for the second time. This past February (2017) that union was dissolved one day shy of us being a couple 22 years. No resentment or hard feelings. I’d rather look forward more than backward.

Editing: Versions 2.0 … my aim is to clean up any remaining typos and grammar errors. The originally published essays could be found on the Green Ribbon World website. When finally done (this could take some time) archiving all the past essays published, I’ll start writing new ones. In a way, I already have done so: Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews.

Uncle G’s Corner
Number: 7
August 2011

Topic: Medicated Moments – The “let’s go to a play” Experience

Driving there as we were getting close, I had this bad feeling in my gut. Think neighborhoods. Think plays. Think New York City. Are you thinking? OK, follow me.

Broadway is known for its theater. The best shows, starring the best performers. For productions that for whatever reasons are not currently on the great white way, those are said to be located; off-Broadway. Nicer than saying it still needs a little work and thus is not ready for the big time just yet. Or maybe never will. Other plays, perhaps due to the lack of investors they had, or that they simply weren’t that good, the more off-Broadway they were.

Completing the set-up, if I may. Here it comes.

Freneticore Presents
Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version Of The War Of The Worlds
Performance: 19 Feb 2011

Should this have been in New York City, you’d find it in New Jersey. Rimshot, please.

Exit 105 if one believes in fate. But this was Houston. Highway 45 heading south towards Galveston. At exit whatever, make a left. A few miles into the hood we go. An old part of Texas settled in the early 1800’s.

The theater we were going to call home a building that one might guess, use to be some kind of warehouse. First impression anyway. And like just about everything else over there that surrounded it, major renovations were needed. This part of Texas has indeed seen it’s better days. Even the main theater sign, could have used a refreshing coat of paint. Arriving, we parked on the side of the building. Was pretty much well-lit up. About the same as us (pot humor — don’t you love it).

My eyes looked all around. Potholes. Broken concrete. My wife’s like; are you sure this is it? My inner voice kept repeating; “great…..just great.” For this was just the beginning. Next, a nauseating feeling in the stomach, followed by a trip to the land of total disappointment. So buckle up.

My pretty wife and I were the first patrons there. And it appeared at least for a while, that we’d be the only ones to arrive. As eight o’ clock approached (show time), a few people did start showing up. Then more. Most dressed rather casual foregoing the proper attire for an evening like this. I’ve been to plays in the past. In New York City. On Broadway. And also downtown from where I am now; The Houston Theater District. Guys typically wore suits & ties. The misses and I dressed nice, and like just about everyone else, more on the comfortable side. This was a rock musical after all. In total, maybe 40 to 50 people showed up. Add the cast and folks that worked the theater. I’m guessing somewhere around 75 there, either in front of or behind the stage.

So, after sitting in the car a while, we went inside. There was a box office set up, on the right hand side. An employee was there. Glancing back and forth I could see the lobby was just that, a lobby. Nothing special. Like the sign outside, it too could have used, a fresh coat of paint. Dirty white walls. And not much furniture. Was mostly barren except for a few fliers made from Xerox paper, scattered here and there.

They had an official program for the show we were about to see. Nothing out of the ordinary. Plays usually do. This one here, nothing fancy/glossy. Not like that promotional postcard they had. The cover for Wayne’s album; Musical Version Of The War Of The Worlds. Showed what they called a war machine, attacking a ship. Cool drawing. Science Fiction Fantasy. I so dig that. And like I said, this was printed on nice looking, glossy card stock paper. Too bad, the program that I was holding, was nothing like that. In my hands instead was a few pieces of white regular twenty pound printer paper, folded together that someone higher up in the organization, must have assumed would do the trick. Not even color ink. Another cost saving decision. Let’s have; a generic playbill. Grade schoolers could have done better here.

Our tickets were 15 bucks a piece. So they had a limited budget I’m sure. It stated in their ad/promotion that the City Of Houston gave them some cash. Were they talking loose change? Here’s three quarters, and two nickels. Now beat it! Sure could not have been much. What appeared as a serious lack of funds, reflected on everything. Think of the movies of yesterday when you heard; “Let’s put on a show!” The Little Rascals did this. In a run down location. Props were trash they found scattered around. Shields used for a sword fighting scene were actually garbage can lids. Need I say more?

In the lobby, they had beverages you could purchase. Pepsi / Diet Pepsi / Doctor Pepper…all in a can. Yours for two bucks each. At least it was cold. I did see one beer can; Lone Star. Texas proud I guess. And one bottle of whiskey. No shot glass. No cups that I saw anywhere in sight. Not even plastic ones, as I would expect from what I have seen so far of this establishment. Maybe one just took a drink of the intoxicating liquor, right out of the bottle? All that shared bacteria. Yum yum! The girl who two hits ago had a sore throat. Congratulations, so do you now. Then again the bottle could have been there for looks? Sure did look like a display of what they were offering. Purchased soda for ourselves, and threw a dollar in a tip jar. He looked needy.

Finally, we were let in. Ends up they were experiencing some kind of difficulty. The show started late. When called, like cattle, we all proceeded through the tall black, swing open and close, black door. A few steps to the stage, and seating. Think small. Theater seating. A hundred seats maybe? Not new looking. A dark red fabric covered the seats. Had that broken down, well used porn theater kind of look. Stale smell in the air. At least the floor wasn’t sticky.

We had front row seats. A three seat setup, on the left side of the theater. My wife took the inside aisle. I in the middle. And this younger heavyset woman, on my right. A complete stranger. And strange she was. Had her phone out so she could text the entire time. Add the word annoying to her description. Made these suppose to be sexy, suggesting sounds to a guy that was working the play throughout the evening. My wife and I just looked at each other. WTF? Sounded more like a cat with a huge ass hairball caught in its throat. Too funny. Meanwhile, the one my seat neighbor publicly lusted after, was busy working. Stagehand. There he was in front of us, on his knees, hooking up a speaker I swear I saw in a stoners bedroom, back in the 1970’s.

The stage was bare. Two projection screens in the background, where they used still images to help set the mood. Over the years, I’ve seen rock bands do this, and frankly much better. Porcupine Tree does a cool projection show. For one, the imagines they project, tend to fit the screen behind the band. Music synchronized perfectly. This one here, sometimes the pictures didn’t fit right. Was crooked a little. More icing on the cake. Now envision still being stoned and sitting there watching this all unfold before your eyes? From all we have seen and experienced so far, it is hard to conceive that things could get much worse.

Up to now, patrons of this event have not seen anything visual representing the play they were about to see, but for the official cover drawing that Jeff Wayne used for his project. The second time I mention this. Not to say I have not witnessed a lot since our trip coming here started. Much has happened between us getting ready to see the play, to where we were now.

Before walking out the door at home, we smoked weed. Not a huge amount. Folks are allowed an alcoholic drink or two right and be within the legal limits to drive safely. With pot, enough to get a light, pleasant buzz. We were out for the evening. To see a play. This is cool, right? Ever since making that exit off Hwy 45, it’s really been one buzz kill, right after the other. Still, there was hope. That is until the play began. Very quickly dreams were crushed that anything good was going to happen throughout the rest of the proceedings.

On top of all my other complaints, or as I see them, observations, one main one was directly right in front of me as I sat there dumbfounded as to what I was witnessing. Did I mention that the stage wasn’t elevated? I actually did see plays in New York City. I saw Godspell twice. It was the free wine at intermission that I liked best. They had an elevated stage. Had to walk up a few stairs to have the guy playing Jesus whose now playing bartender, come over and fill up my cup.

The straw that broke the camels back. I tell myself; I say self, we’re never coming back here again. We fled as a matter of fact, right after the show ended. No looking back when driving away. Foot on the gas. But I digress. Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version of HG Wells War Of The Worlds has just begun, with sounds hitting my ears, being played out of a badly operated sound system. Everything was coming out of the right speaker(s). To make it even worse, mostly re-recorded music/speech/vocals. Imagine hearing parts of Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version of HG Wells War Of The Worlds, being performed by a lounge band in a Holiday Inn Hotel. No Justin Hayward. No David Essex. And no one even attempting to sound anywhere as good as them. Why bother? Just make it up as you go along. That seemed at times to be the approach.

So here on a wooden floor, right in front of us, they proceeded to give this a go, as only I’m sure, they could. Did I mention that this theater’s history, is dance? Lots of dancing. Wish I’d had known beforehand. Might have given me a clue as to what was to come. I would understand advertising that stated it was their own interpretation of Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version Of The War Of The Worlds. If I would have been informed of that, I would have stayed home. Could have played Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version Of The War Of The Worlds on the stereo, medicated, and with the misses, had a much better time.

In this performance, maybe ten dancers/performers or so. More female than male. Not a bad or good thing. Just an observation.

They had a Martian. A guy in what looked like a really used, sports mascot, head to toe suit. Furry, and having a horribly bad hair day. A suit that I’m sure would be deemed by Major League Baseball, to be not appropriate for use in front of a live crowd, ever. A character not in the original story if I remember it right. The Martian’s did send out mechanical scouts. But I don’t recall beings. Not a human being like this wearing a prop probably gotten from a Salvation Army store. Discounted. Priced to go, I’m sure. See what I said about making shit up.

Check this out. Super unexpected. Girls did what seemed to me, and more than once, lesbian dances. It’s how I interpreted it. Lots of rolling around on the floor, and touching. At one point, three of them wore red/pink bodysuits. Very tight. Tight enough, we now got; cameltoe. Think anatomy class. And I remember reading on the postcard promoting the play that it was family friendly. No children in this audience. A good thing. I can only imagine if there was; Mommy….why is that ladies right nipple, sticking out more than her left one? In which Mom replies; too much dry ice, Dear.

Like a real Broadway type play, there was an intermission. All of this activity ceased, giving one a type of reprieve, and the time to form an updated opinion of the nights’ affairs, so far.

Question. Could this play be it’s so bad, that’s it’s good? Think the classic 50’s horror film; Plan Nine From Outer Space. A movie that by regular movie standards, is terrible at best. Lite up a joint and the jokes write themselves. Funny how that is. One can make a film and later on have it appreciated for being something the filmmaker never intended it to be. And that’s OK. Remember; Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes? As many people will tell you that movie sucked, that will tell you it’s good. There really is magic in the movies.

There were periods of the first part of this play, that I laughed harder than I have in ages. Because it’s so horrendously terrible. A build-up of one horrible thing, after another. And here, the silver lining. The awful barren stage look. Add to that, the terrible acting. Even worse singing when not pretending with the prerecorded vocals. And I sensed they really didn’t know the lyrics they were doing lip synchronization too. Hard to believe any of the performers were fans of the album, before getting involved with this.

I’ll admit this crap, was unbelievably funny. But not laughing in their faces so to hurt their feelings. A benefit of the doubt, we can say the performers were trying. Some harder than others. Besides, it’s not polite to be in public and have bad manners. At least, not on purpose. Unless they deserved it. In which these thespians didn’t. They were just in a bad production. Management of the theater should take responsibility. It shocks me that no one during rehearsal just stated honestly, that this really sucked. It’s a bad presentation of what really is a cool play. This includes real special effects as one can look up on the Internet. Google it. The biggest special effect this play had, was dry ice. And way too much of it. Like they didn’t know how to shut off the machine. Or they were purposely trying to cover up the whole state of stinky affairs they had going on. Someone should have punched the person who signaled this play to start this evening. “Ladies & Gentlemen” — pow.

I have to admit, the second part of the play was better than the first. Could be because the realization that this was as good as it gets, applied. There was a standout performer. A lady; Ekanem Ebinne. Played her part well. Sang well. Not a huge part. Seemed to make it her own. Everyone else made me laugh. Of course, we know that wasn’t their intention.

The play ended. People applauded believe it or not. We got up, and as I said before, immediately walked to our car. My wife commented on the way home, that she liked the dancing parts. Think I replied with; my balls itch.

Here’s my short review; absolutely dreadful. A misrepresentation of the actual play. End of review. See, I said it was short.

Disappointed? Sure. But it was a night out. We don’t get a lot of those. The words, “weird experience” sums it up nicely. I bet we’ll never forget the evening. That’s for sure.

In the theater’s advertisement, it reads: …..”will thrill and entertain you with a new take on the timeless classic.” That could very much apply to the real Jeff Wayne’s Musical World Of The Worlds. Unless Freneticore meant a new take, on a new take? From the HG Wells classic book to the Orson Welles famous radio production in 1938, to thrilling movies, to Wayne’s musical. Which this wasn’t. One leap after another. And they did end up taking something from me; my money. Maybe that’s the only “take” these folks at Freneticore were going for?

Oh…..when we got home, the misses and I got totally wasted smoking hydro. And laughed. This time, out loud.

Onward through the fog…..

Uncle G

Music played while typing: Yes – Fly from Here (album)

Uncle G’s 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#06)

WARNING! WARNING! (age 21+ Cannabis)

09 January 2018
Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews
Words and Red Ashtray Photography by Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Seeing how this is an archival website, I’d like to introduce to my newer 420 readers, a series of essays I did for a non-profit pro-cannabis website out of New York City, some years ago. One that I’ve been involved with since the year 2011. The webmistress is the wonderful Arlene Williams aka Ganja Granny. I love her to death! The website: Green Ribbon World.

Please note … regarding this republishing. We’re going back in time. Six years ago. I was married for the second time. This past February (2017) that union was dissolved one day shy of us being a couple 22 years. No resentment or hard feelings. I’d rather look forward more than backward.

Editing: Versions 2.0 … my aim is to clean up any remaining typos and grammar errors. The originally published essays could be found on the Green Ribbon World website. When finally done (this could take some time) archiving all the past essays published, I’ll start writing new ones. In a way, I already have done so: Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews.

Uncle G’s Corner
Number: 06
JULY 2011

Topic: Headphone Memories

By age twelve, weed had entered my life. It’s sidekick; music. But really rockin’ out should be first in that order. So it’s sidekick; weed. Either way, in my life so far, they both have always been interesting, and wickedly entertaining in one sort or another, either separately, or combined.

Way before I became a cannabis user for medical reasons, and while just a wee lad, I fell in love with music. To this day it’s an important ingredient in my general makeup. Mom having had been the one to plant that seed. A professional musician. Her name was Thelma. Unfortunately, I don’t know as much as I would have liked about her. Already mentioned in previous Uncle G’s Corner’s, she passed away. At age 49. I was seven years old at the time of her death.

Alcoholic. Hardcore. Whiskey. Would have fit right in with Bill W’s first one hundred. Hid bottles all over the house. Disregarded the consequences. Ingested liquor with total abandon. As a result, many a time got sloppy, fall down drunk. Let’s assume at any given opportunity. Entertained in bars. Booze consumed the woman. Yet every time I looked her way, there was a vision only a small child sees. She was beautiful. All courtesy of unconditional love. Bottom line, she was my Mum. Sure I witnessed bad situations. But I was too young to comprehend fully what was going on around me. Which actually saved me. Was a natural protection mechanism. Fact is children don’t completely understand everything they fall witness to. Not the same way an adult does. Elementary my fellow potheads, it’s all in the skull. The time spent with Mom, my brain was nowhere near being fully developed. Not in seven years. I was a bright child. Memory worked. Processing those as I got older. Like playing tapes over and over, which sometimes caused apprehension. To say the least. I struggled for years coming to peace with past events that off and on, sometimes daily, bothered my subconscious.

I remember Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass. My Mom really dug them. I can recall her recording on a reel-to-reel tape system, an appearance they did on The Mike Douglas show. Daytime chat program. This is in the 1960’s. The album I remember from them more than any other; Whipped Cream And Other Delights. The green cover with a brunette woman wearing nothing but whipped cream. Hence the title I imagine. The dairy industry must have loved this. Sales through the roof. Whipped cream now being eaten, and not at all times from a plate of ice cream, or on anything made from flour, found in a bakery. The image, forever stuck in my young mind, igniting further my fascination with the female race. Get this…..speed up time….it’s now the wonderful 1990’s. I purchase a Herb Alpert Greatest Hits CD. Take it home. Play it. I know every song that he’s with the Tijuana Brass. Note for note. I could whistle along with it (my bird loves when I do that). Embedded in my brain all that time. I went thirty years not hearing many of those songs. And still, I remembered them.

Thelma Brown (re-stored 2013)

Promotional Photo: Thelma Willnetta Brown_Cordo Tones (Texas mid-1960’s)

My Mom played piano and accordion. She also sang. My favorite song that she performed; Red Roses For A Blue Lady. It’s a dear song that I hold very close to my heart, yet with over the two thousand music compact discs that I have, I don’t have a version of that song by anyone. This tune is from 1948. I actually think if a good vocalist recorded that song now, with some solid updated music behind the vocals, that it would chart and make money. Up the tempo. Just saying. Maybe that guy Casey Abram from the last American Idol? Season 10. He can play that stand up bass. Do the Wolfman styled vocals. He grunts. Surprised he never howled. Make Steven Tyler shout out; crazy good! And speaking of, what a loose cannon he was on that program. I was fascinated just keeping up with him. My only time watching a whole season of the show. By the way, my pick(s) lost. Imagine that.

Now let’s take a jump back. Back to my teenage years. At the second home, I lived in, after my parents were both dead. A pair of Sennheiser headphones. I’d go outside and smoke some weed. Then come inside, and put on the headphones. What music was I listening to you ask? Remember, this is around the middle of the 1970’s. OK? Here you go:

Uncle G’s Top 10 Headphone albums (cd’s that were meant to be listened to with the stereo headphones on, while under the influence of pot). And here we go:

Jeff Beck – Blow By Blow
Kraftwerk – Autobahn
Mike Oldfield – Tubular Bells
Yes – Fragile
The Beatles – Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band
Emerson, Lake & Palmer – Brain Salad Surgery.
Led Zeppelin – Physical Graffiti
Pink Floyd – Dark Side Of The Moon
Nektar – Remember The Future
Alice Cooper – Billion Dollar Babies

Honorary Mention: The Who – Who By Numbers / Who’s Next

Note: Listened to these two Who studio releases on 8-Tracks, while smoking weed, and having dropped blotter acid one night. What a trip! Made me a fan of the band for life. And Pete’s solo material as well. His album: Psychoderelict. The misses and I so dig this. Came out the year we started dating (1993).

I later on while under the influence of said reefer we were smoking, and the acid I dropped, decided to go to the beach. A cool place to trip. Done it already a few times. Here I was with this girl name Diane. A cute blonde. She stayed straight that night. Our guardian angel for the evening. Me and another guy whose name escapes me at the moment. While totally peaking, we go to a pool parlor. A block from the boardwalk. The place was named; The Wild Carrot. And this is in Manasquan. So there I was playing a game of pool. I swear, the balls glowed. Could not finish the game. Ended the night on the beach. Most my experience with acid was good. Once while doing it, I jumped head first into a big bush thinking it was a giant mushroom. One track mind.

While a young teenager, I hung with guys who sometimes had older brothers in their life. And their friends. Socialized after school. On weekends. At get-togethers (like they say nowadays; just chillin’), or parties. Big, small, and by private invite only. Lots of weed. And always playing in the background, was the tunes. My mind was one big sponge soaking up whatever sounds that were out there. Explored what I liked. Ends up, I got turned on to lots of good bands/musicians just by being around like-minded individuals.  Unfortunately, I lack any ability to play a musical instrument. A friend gave me a bass not that long ago. It sits in my living room. “One day” I still tell myself.

For the most part, I stayed in two small seashore towns; Manasquan, and Long Branch. Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band were huge in that part of the World. The Jersey Shore. The same way, ZZ Top is big in Texas. Each having their own respected local followings. Way before becoming national celebrities.

From what I can tell, The Boss has stayed loyal to the Jersey Shore over the decades. Good for him. You know, he once gave my first wife tickets to a show. She worked for his answering service. One day Bruce was rehearsing and he hurt his foot/leg. He ends up impressed, and thankful for the speedy service she gave him finding a Doctor. Gives her two tickets to the Thanksgiving Madison Square Garden performance. She baked him a loaf of banana bread.

Springsteen had just come out with The River. Double album. A very important performance. Critics. We sat with the press/record company folk. They for the most part just sat there and watched the concert. No jumping up and down and actually getting into it. And we did have one drunk try to fuck with us. He got flagged. Bruce and the band were great. Another long show. We had to leave before the end so we could catch our train home; the night owl out of Penn Station.

As I got older I started disliking Springsteen, mainly due to his politics. One example. He publicly supported John Kerry. And here’s what killed me. Not for any specific reason. Only because he opposed Bush. On national TV this came out. It was an interview. Asked why he supported Kerry, Springsteen said nothing. The quietness was deafening. Spoke more to me than if he opened his mouth.

Regarding entertainers. Let me get this straight. I’m spending hard-earned money, and precious free-time consuming myself with their products, not just Springsteen’s, due to their performance abilities. That’s why I purchase the concert tickets and their latest releases. I’m attracted to their acquired musical skill, and or their talent to entertain. I’m not doing this because of their current views on drilling for oil in the Gulf, or whatever the hot topic of the day is. Mix those two, and you lose me. My singers, I want to sing. My actors, I want to act. Not educate me, or instruct me as to how to conduct myself in certain situations. It’s a pet peeve. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.

Throwing controversy aside, Springsteen & The E Street Band, especially the early material, is simply outstanding. Worth getting, or checking out if not in your collection already.

As a youth, I collected albums. Had some of the most simplistic home sound systems I could barely afford. Foster kid. No money. Check this out….I had one empty cigarette box, housing a tweeter. My friend would have Pioneer speakers, and I’d have Marlboro. But it worked. And I’d be playing all this great music. Would sometimes put pennies on the tone arm so the needle would not skip. And all this enjoyment, mostly under the influence of cannabis.

Attended concerts. My first rock show was Yes. They were touring the album, Relayer. Played two summers in a row. I attended both concerts. Roosevelt Stadium, Jersey City, New Jersey. The second summer show was on the radio; WNEW 102.7 FM. Out of New York City. Where most of the entertainment came from when living in New Jersey. I have wonderful memories of this radio station. One of them was a DJ name; Scott Muni. What a natural deep radio voice he had. We’d turn the bass up when he was talking. Would rattle the windows. Made us stoners laugh, every time. Then there was Alison Steele…The Night Bird. Listening to her late at night, could turn a penis hard, and keep it there till morning. Like it was an antenna zoomed in on her radio frequency. Besides the dee-jays, for many years they played what was new then, and now the classic rock hits of today. Would spin whole albums; Emerson, Lake, & Palmer’s – Pictures At An Exhibition. The 1970’s. A wonderful time for radio. And music in general. I once heard Steve Howe of Yes / Asia / GTR fame, say in an interview how the record companies were way more relaxed back then, allowing complete freedom to create. Lucky them. And lucky me. And Lucky Man was one of my favorite songs. One of the many that made for a cool soundtrack to my growing up. And life today as well.

Music CD’s playing in the background while I typed this; Jon Anderson – Survival & Other Stories / Steve Hackett – Out Of The Tunnel’s Mouth / Ant-Bee: Electronic Church Muzik.

Bonus Paragraph:

I saw Led Zeppelin. At Madison Square Garden. June 13, 1977. Pot everywhere. Got super wasted just walking around the outside of the Garden. Joints being passed to anyone who wanted a hit. Not to mention inside the place. What a blowout! Was hanging out with a pretty smelling young lady. We hitchhiked from Long Branch to the city. Was at Zep’s Swan Song office building most of the day. Met a lot of characters. And later that night saw one of the best rock bands ever. These guys were like Gods. A concert I’ll never forget. When back home the wee hours of that evening, my then new girlfriend and I detoured a couple blocks from her home, and we went into the woods. Sometime later, she was yelling “I’ll be right there Mother” with her panties down, and me munching on her custard pie.

Onward Through The Fog

Rest In Peace: Clarence Clemons (January 11, 1942 – June 18, 2011)


Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Cannabis Patch Report (#01)

Recommended Age: 21+
Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews
Cannabis Patch Report (#01)
Company: RX Green
Medicinal: Yes
Product: THC (Indica) Transdermal Patch (All Natural Ingredients)
Dose: 30 mg THC

Story and Incidental Photography by Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Verts - R X Green - Upright

After doing thirteen ‘edible reports’, I decided to try another cannabis delivery system; transdermal patch. Verts Neighborhood Dispensary (Fort Collins, CO) is where I found this. Their cannabis selections are outstanding! My usual place to score weed (medicinal). I’m a daily user. Mostly indica lately. My injuries with the cold weather have been acting up. Sometimes, the more THC the better. But be forewarned. By doing this over a considerable amount of time, one builds up a tolerance. What I could continually smoke all day, a couple hits and others are seriously down for the count. Which leads me to say; know your body and its limitations. When it comes to cannabis, ask questions. Do research. Make damn sure that what you’re doing, is right for you. Cannabis is NOT for everyone. Being over age 21 may qualify you to buy legal weed, but it doesn’t mean consuming it may be exactly right for you.

The question; is a THC patch, right for me? I had success quitting an over 30-year cigarette habit, by using the patches (nicotine). I could not sleep with them because my dreams got too damn weird. They did their job really well during my waking hours. Worked the program. Did all the different stages. The process slowly weans you off tobacco. This past month (November) I celebrated a full decade since I had my last cigarette. A Doral Extra Lite 100. Putting down those cancer sticks … an accomplishment that I thought I would never achieve. So using a THC patch as a delivery system, to help make life a bit more tolerable, I had no problems saying yes to that. Sign me up!

Thanksgiving Day 2017. This is the day that I decided to try; RX Green – All Natural Ingredients – Transdermal Patch – No2 Indica (30 mg THC). My first time doing so. The fine bartenders at Verts gave me all the very important information that I needed to know, before actually doing it. Know what to expect. I like to anyway. Lots of information on the envelope the patch is packaged in. Example:

01.) This INDICA patch is most effective on a venous part of the body; inside ankle or wrist.

02.) Area should be cleaned with isopropyl alcohol (regular rubbing alcohol)

03.) Let fry and place directly on the skin by removing the clear backing and press firmly into place.

04.) The patch will have a sustained release of up to twelve hours and should be worn continually.

Verts - R X Green - Collective

At 10 am, I did ALL that. No smoking pot or doing anything cannabis, since the night before. Was straight as a ruler (a primitive measuring stick also used as a spanking apparatus).

Like a liquid, the patch offers a much quicker way for the THC to enter your system, if compared to your typical cannabis edible. I’ll say within an hour, I noticed it. RX Green has different cannabis varieties, and again I chose; indica. Aches and pains were kept to a minimum. I felt kind of similar to a version of my old self. Being Thanksgiving, I ended up spending the entire day, in a full house of mostly strangers. Felt no anxiety or stress. Had a wonderful Thanksgiving meal. Over six hours into my using the RX Green transdermal patch, I made a plate full of food. Everything tasted like it was the best version of whatever it was. And I chowed down on turkey. Tasted so delicious. you know what … my past two wives will tell you; I fucking HATE turkey! Yet with homemade cranberry sauce, the meal was to die for. BIG belly O’s (orgasms).

I take two daily pharmaceuticals daily. I take one before bed. The other I held off on until 5 pm. Helps me with chronic nerve pain. The patch helped me cope, which is what I’m looking for. The 30 mg dose, did me okay for seven hours without doing anything else.

Around 6 pm and the weirdest shit happened. The patch was still working. That’s obviously not the weird part. Totally unexpected really. Several people around me, either sitting or standing nearby, started busting out their weed. I finished my meal and was sitting at a table that was outside in the backyard. Participating in casual conversation with whoever was close by. And then it happened. People now with full bellies, started lighting up and passing around various kinds of pot. Most of these folks I didn’t even know smoked. Was a mixture of homegrown and dispensary purchased cannabis from various places in and around the GREAT state of Colorado. Serious smoking! One very cool young lady turned me onto; Blue Dream. Bless her heart! I read about it in High Times Magazine, but never actually toked it. I had a hybrid that was half, but just never the pure flower. Until now! So the rest of the evening was a more adult party atmosphere. And this being Fort Collins, of course, some drinking was going on as well. Responsible adults! Everyone knew their limits. Nothing bad happened. If we all drank booze as much as we consumed marijuana, all kinds of fights would have broken out. My luck; here come the cops! Instead, a FUN time was had by one and all. We all did chores and cleaned up after ourselves. I helped do the dishes.

Oh, I should mention that I did as instructed and took off the patch off after 12 hours; 10 pm. That night … slept like a baby. Woke up the next day all refreshed. I’m over fifty years old. Nice when that happens.


In 420 minutes, I knew R X Green had put out a very good cannabis product. Something I think that those like myself, might consider using.

By The Way

R X Green offers lower doses that I’m guessing are typically sold on the recreational side of marijuana dispensaries.

Verts Neighborhood Dispensary


Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (Special Edition)

19 December 2017
Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews
Uncle G’s Corner (Special Edition)
Words and Photography By: Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Please let me introduce myself. Pertaining to marijuana, I’ve been inhaling cannabis off and on, since the Nixon Administration. As many of us pot users have, I started off recreational.

Takes money to use marijuana. Especially on a daily basis. I started making cash at around the same time I started inhaling herb. Work hard, play hard. My physical body started seriously showing negative results of that, by the time my fifth decade of existence started rolling around. For the record, I become legally disabled at age 50. Five years later I became a card-carrying, licensed medical marijuana user, for the first time. It happened after relocating to Fort Collins, Colorado, back in the autumn of 2016. My second marriage had just crumbled. Good time to experience new things.

To review, if age 21 and older, in the state of Colorado in which I live, one can buy pot at a legally run marijuana dispensary. The towns and cities where this happens, have very strict laws regarding how this is done, and its use.

Having a ‘medical marijuana card’ means maximum financial savings as compared to buying cannabis just for recreational use. It means obtaining a gram here in Fort Collins (CO) for around the $7 and $10.00 dollar range. This is substantially cheaper than recreational weed. For low-income seniors/disabled users, the savings means a lot. Can amount to an extra bag of groceries at the end of the month (when it counts).

Matter of factly, Colorado does make money off its ill (those that qualify) residents seeking to help themselves using alternative methods. This is done via collecting taxes. Taxing recreational pot I understand fully. Medical Marijuana? Something unethical about that, don’t you think? That’s another opinionated “Uncle G” story for another time.

On the flip side, the marijuana black market, in general, is still very much alive and well. I’ve run into some super compassionate folks who love to grow and will give you free weed, just knowing you are using it mostly for medicinal reasons. Others sell an eighth for about twenty-five bucks. Quality varies. Way better weed than what I was smoking up, forty plus years ago. The fact is today’s marijuana homegrown is much stronger than the Cheech and Chong generation of yesteryear. Reality check; Pot-luck finding what works for you out on the street, as compared to walking into a Colorado state-licensed marijuana dispensary, and having well-trained (hopefully) budtenders advise and match you with whatever they are selling/prescribing at the time, to meet your needs.

Be lucky enough to have a substantial money flow, and if being an everyday cannabis user, you’re better off in a location where it’s legal. Do your research, find a place you like and move. Remember, not going to jail is a big plus. Get caught with Ganja in a place that still governs with stone age laws, and you’ll be really sorry when caught. The whole process blows. As a teen, I was busted numerous times. Gave me a taste of what could be ahead. There are still places in the United States where getting busted with a dirty pipe could land you in front of a judge. Let alone possession.

Today, for myself, cannabis is more a lifestyle. Now having permanent injuries, I’m simply not the young man I use to be. One of the many upsides to my daily marijuana use (mostly indica) is it’s keeping me from looking at pill or booze bottles to help me cope, in which I use to do. Been down that road, and it’s a dark one.

Time to renew. I go back to where I got my medical marijuana license the year before. Procedures have changed. A few dollars less. Total cost this time around was: $116.10 – one hundred dollars given to the pot doctor, with the rest going to the state of Colorado (paid online). Anything with having to travel to the post office afterward to complete and snail mail the application process is now history. Everything is done online now. Leave it to me to find a way to screw this up.

Once home and on my Chromebook, I followed the instructions that the pot doctors assistant gave me. To a tee. All was well and within three days, I got an email informing me that my application was processed, and to sign in so I could print out my card. Wow! I was told by a few folks right before re-applying that getting your card was way quicker now. Sure seemed that way to me so far. But wait, cannabis has a side effect called; short-term memory loss. I was medicated when I did all the initial online requirements. Three days later I remembered my username and not my password. Put an incorrect password three times on the state’s website, and you are; LOCKED OUT! Guess what I did.

Keep in mind, I’m a medical marijuana patient. I signed legal paperwork saying so. My first time on the state’s marijuana website, I created a username and password. When the time came for the BIG payoff, a renewed medical marijuana card, I choked. Since then I figured out how that happened. I wrote down on a 3×5 card, all vital information, and then simply forgot about it. Tidying up some, the card got moved around. If not in the line of focus, out of sight, out of mind. Found AFTER being locked out. My FAULT totally. I accept full responsibility for my actions. Fixing this problem was NOT easy. Welcome to Uncle G’s bloody nightmare.

From a doctor to an online application, to an email in which I was told my marijuana card was ready for printing out, equaled three days. Yet I went almost a full month having to pay recreational prices. Why?

The phone number that is given in case one has a problem keeps you waiting almost a half hour, and then a recorded message plays on saying all are busy now, and to call back later. Hangs up without taking a message. I repeated doing this until I concluded that doing so was a huge waste of time, and was getting me nowhere. Piss me off!

E-mails written to the only email address given were replied back quickly. Too bad a real human wasn’t involved. After a week of automated responses that included information that flat out didn’t work, my next e-mail I was sure would get a human beings’ attention. In the subject line I erased what they had, and replaced with:

Please Help (human)

A week later. Notice the CAPS:

HELP PLEASE (Attention Website System Administrator)

Again, if it’s possible to screw up something, odds are I will. Especially the important stuff! Finally, someone saw my emails on the other end and figured all this out. when notified I went to their website, typed in my username along with a password that I knew worked, and those locked gates magically opened. I got my renewed card! Was good to go from here. I am grateful.

Out of the twelve months, my renewed medical marijuana card is valid for, because of all this crap, almost one full month had already gone by, before I actually had a printed out one in my hands, and that I could use to save money, my next time in a medical marijuana dispensary. My second mention. Something about that is not fair. People reading this where cannabis is still illegal is thinking what a bitch I’m being now. Money is money. I did pay for a license that is supposed to be good for twelve months, not eleven (bitch bitch bitch).

The pot doctor’s office when notified that I was having a problem, couldn’t C.A.R.E less. That’s the impression I got. The only solutions given was the phone number and email address I was already by then, having MAJOR problems with. Almost robotic the way the lady who answered the phone, talked to me. I conclude that where I went (C.A.R.E.S. – Fort Collins, CO) did what was necessary of them, and in a professional matter. No going the extra mile for their clients. Crucify me I f***** up but still help me. My fault for going there. My expectations of them … TOO HIGH. Next year when it comes time to renew, I’ll go anywhere else but (you too right).

In closing, if I may suggest to the great state of Colorado, a few things. Offer more human contact; emails/phone. Make it so the phone receives messages. Expect people whose medication have side effects, to not remember their information. I understand personal information, and a desire to keep it private. Yet at the same time, no one should have to wait like I did, even if my fault, for something that is being labeled; medicine. Sorry for any trouble. So I hear, I’m not the only one. Problem/Solution … enough money is being generated to fix/anticipate whatever problem that arises, including me. And in a timely matter. Legal marijuana itself, a wonderful benefit to staying in Colorado. Rocky mountain high … indeed. Let’s keep it real. People do move here for legal medical marijuana, but at the same time, other States are doing the same thing. Greed and stupidity will kill the goose laying all those golden eggs. Know what I mean?

Attention: Please contact author for permission BEFORE reprinting/republishing this article/column, either in whole or part – 2017 Gary “Uncle G” Brown

Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#05)

21 November 2017
Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews
Words and Photography by Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Seeing how this is an archival website, I’d like to introduce to my newer 420 readers, a series of essays I did for a non-profit pro-cannabis website out of New York City, some years ago. One that I’ve been involved with since the year 2011. The webmistress is the wonderful Arlene Williams aka Ganja Granny. I love her to death! The website: Green Ribbon World.

Please note … regarding this republishing. We’re going back in time. Six years ago. I was married for the second time. This past February (2017) that union was dissolved one day shy of us being a couple 22 years. No resentment or hard feelings. I’d rather look forward more than backward.

Editing: Versions 2.0 … my aim is to clean up any remaining typos and grammar errors. The originally published essays could be found on the Green Ribbon World website. When finally done (this could take some time) archiving all the past essays published, I’ll start writing new ones. In a way, I already have done so: Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews.

Green Ribbon World (website)

Uncle G’s Corner
Number: 5
May 2011

Topic: In Remembrance (originally: Smokin’ Buddies Through The Years)

So what does a long time primarily stoner dude like myself do when given the opportunity to write a somewhat regular column on a popular cannabis website, like Green Ribbon World? One thing I would like to do is author a super lengthy column about what crap it is, that marijuana is always being labeled like it’s fact; a gateway drug. Shit gets under my skin. Oh, wait…snap…I already did that; Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#04): Parts 01 and 02.

Another thing would be to write a piece on actual people I’ve been around over the decades; past and present. Might even be a recurring theme. Some real characters, good and bad. I’d like to focus on those I consumed cannabis with, over the many decades. Or had a beer with or both! For the record, I am okay with the safe, moderate consumption of alcohol. Problems arise when one overdoes it. My Mom died at age 49 a real alcoholic. It’s a nasty slow death. As a child, I saw it with my own eyes.

Personally, I deem marijuana rather harmless for most adults. Add other substances to that like alcohol, and the effects are so different. Can be potentially dangerous. A whole other ballgame. As the days, months, and years fly by, for most this becomes a lifestyle that is difficult to maintain. When I was heavy into it, we drank, swallowed, snorted, and smoked practically anything that would alter reality for us. Labeled it as having well-deserved FUN.

The person I’d like to reminisce about is named; Stephen Tyner. Is deceased now. Has been for a while. Died back in the 1980’s. A violent crime statistic.

I have a hard time remembering now when I first heard Steve had passed away. He’s been buried for a while by the time before I learned of his early demise. Death would have had to happen, while he was in his early twenties. Obviously, I’m not a hundred percent sure. Recent internet searches bring up nothing. I lost touch with immediate family members. What I know comes via old friends Steve and I associated with.

I met Steve while in my teen years, on the Jersey Shore. Time was the late 1970’s. Yours truly was serving out yet another sentence given to me by a guy in a black robe who figured he knew what was best for me. What a long line of those I had. Judges were always big sending me places when I was a youngin’….. like a military school; Admiral Farragut Academy. An orphan with a trust fund. Cost me around five thousand dollars and I was there for less than 24 hours. When sent for a haircut, I walked out the front gate. Besides that total nightmare, multiple foster homes, juvenile detention centers, or worse yet, trying to scare me straight. ‘Scared Straight‘, a wonderful motivational program aimed at teens who have been in trouble with the law. Wish I could say that worked. Apparently, I still had a little badness in me after my court-ordered trip to Rahway State Prison. The famous documentary (1978), narrated by Peter Falk, was filmed a week before my scheduled appearance. Lucky me! Really … how fucking embarrassing! PLUS the reunion specials (OMG!).

Back to our story, this time around, the great State of New Jersey was paying me to get my G.E.D., at a place called M.A.C.O.M. in Eatontown. I had dropped out of school when I turned age 16, found a job, and went to work full time; 40 hours. For minimum wage.  A dishwasher in a breakfast/lunch place; Gab N’ Eat. Because I was a foster child, I needed permission from a Judge to do this. My social worker at the time helped make everything so. I asked him one morning if he wanted to get high with me, and he said, no. Decent guy! I might have been mature for my age, but still under age eighteen.

My G.E.D classes were held in the mornings. In a pre-test, I passed everything the first time except for math. My focus was on that. Was there with other juvenile delinquents, which included Steve. Birds of a feather, we hit it off pretty quickly.

I remember Penny, one of my GED teachers. In her early 30’s, and divorced. Hot to trot! Anytime I walked with her, it was hard not to notice guys who passed us going the other direction, turning around to check Penny out. Hopefully, they were her and not me. My skinny bubble butt attracted both sexes, while I’m sure her nicely shaped derriere did as well. The 1970’s were, after all, a wild decade. Penny attended my wedding. It was the last I ever saw of her. Always kind to me. One regret I have is that I never smoked pot with the lady. I got those vibes she did. More than once. But I never attempted to find out. Didn’t want to cross that bridge I guess. Looking back, I wish I have pursued it. Had a beautiful mind as well. Because of our ages, that would have been against the law. Am sure she would have declined.

I got along really well with Steve’s sister. Good looking girl. Real curly hair. We hung out many times. She was also at my first wedding. With other young ladies, I knew. Some I saw naked, and others I wished I had. Made for a nice group of young women. All dressed to the nines. Which made for a few awkward moments. Nothing like later on that night.  The maid of honor would hook up with one of the limo drivers. I had friends who never being around a champagne fountain before, overindulged and ended up throwing up chunks outside in the bushes. Oh, what a night!

I did get high with practically everyone else back then, including Steve. Remember, he’s our main topic. And by getting high (smoking reefer for recreational use) with Steve, that’s how I got to know his sister better. Besides sharing joints, we all drank together as well. I’d get shitface blitzed! Wine, beer, or whiskey. Whatever contained alcohol. Did drugs also. Whatever was available. Was pretty open-minded to just about anything. We did LSD together more than once. Steve’s sister wasn’t a partying fool. She attended a Catholic High School, getting pretty good grades (if I remember right). Plus this ambitious young lady also worked part-time at the hospital.  Looked great wearing white. And yeah, I had a serious crush on her.

Fire! Fire! There I was sleeping on the couch. Steve and I shared a small house together. I was like age seventeen. Steve literally fell on me. And good thing he did. Woke me up from a dead sleep. The house filled with thick gray smoke.

The story goes, Steve was hungry. Staggered into the house after a night of drinking, and turned the oven on to 400 degrees. Opened the door, and placed inside, a leftover takeout pizza. Still in the box. Imagine what happened next. Now awoken from Steve passing out on me, and then falling on the floor, I dragged his passed out drunk ass out of the house, and onto the front lawn. Next, I got the pizza box out of the oven. The pizza was burnt, black and charred. Opened all the windows. No longer any danger, I went outside while the house aired out, and passed out on the lawn next to Steve. Hours later we both woke up. I missed work that day. Almost died in a fire. Good excuse for the boss. Steve’s version had him saving OUR lives. We still remained friends. But I did move out. This was the second and last time I shared a place with him. Can you blame me?

Time marched on. Steve was best man at my first wedding. On the anniversary U.S. citizens best remember as; Pearl Harbor Day (07 Dec).

The night before the big event, Steve took me out drinking. I woke up on the floor of Steve’s fathers living room, the next morning. I regained consciousness. His Dad wished me luck in my forthcoming marriage. And on his way out the door, instructed Steve to have me drink, a huge can of tomato juice. That would sober me up, he said. Not that I drank the whole can, but I did consume at least half. I did make it to the church on time, so it must have helped. We hitched a ride from Steve’s Father’s house. Made it home with enough time to call my bride, who was getting ready to cancel the wedding not knowing where I was, and then prepare myself for that night’s festivities.

What Tyner and I did best was smoke pot. We come up with crazy ideas. Just having a good time. Doing bongs, and listening to records; Lynyrd Skynyrd – One More From The Road (1976). But unfortunately, not all times with Steve were good ones. He had a positive, good-natured side, and a really terrible bad side. Getting super wasted would most times trigger the negative personality. Trouble would ensue. I tend to be a happy person when baked or tanked unless fucked with. The same with most folks.

With Tyner, once he was fully cooked, getting into some kind of fight, was just about guaranteed. Weird shit was always bound to happen. Like this, for example. My buddy Tyner was thrown out of Madison Square Garden. We were there to see the Grateful Dead. Steve was tossed out before the show even started. We got inside, and then from being careless, and also being pretty wasted, Steve lost his ticket stub. Which he didn’t care about because he didn’t like the location of his seat anyway. That was too bad. While in the process of obtaining another seat, he had a run-in with security guards, which got him an early exit. I stayed, and watched from afar. His own fault! Watched the cops drag him away. Good concert! Saw Steve the next day. He remembered hardly anything. Like myself, amazing getting home safely.

Looking back, I wish all Steve and I did as far as getting a buzz goes, was toke weed. Maybe he’d be still alive today? Truth be known, besides pot, we did other things to escape reality with. For one, we discovered the joys and hardships of excessive drinking. Subjecting our bodies to whatever harm it caused. Did just about every drug we could find. Didn’t matter what it was. Both Tyner and I stayed away from needles during our time hanging out together. That would come later to the both of us. Not a part of my life that I am proud about. In 1986 I shot cocaine for a brief time. Mostly in my right arm. Steve got into heroin, so I was told. Stories that more than one person told me. Again, I never did needles with Tyner. A good thing. We could get hardcore together. The little devils inside us both loved to play.

I tried slowing down the drugs and drinking I was doing. The pot was never the problem. Now a newly married man. The best thing about tying the knot so young was that it triggered my maturing process. And what a slow ride to the top that one was.

For a while, I worked a full-time factory job Monday through Friday. On the weekends, I would sometimes work the flea markets. Selling real handmade leather belts and accessories. Owned a house. Duplex. Rented one side out. I was a landlord. Became a foster parent at age 19. A six-year-old girl fell into our laps. Here I was accepting responsibilities. Afraid of what would happen if I partied. With no real defenses, I was bound for failure. My bottom was a deep one.

I recognized my problem with alcohol when I was sixteen. By age seventeen, the law was up my ass. My stomach problems had begun. I’d drink whiskey for breakfast instead of a well-balanced meal. Horrible heartburn/acid reflux. No direction I was going, was a good one. Was a secret back then I kept super close to my chest … I was hooked on cough syrup (codeine) when I was 17. Lord only knows how I managed to steer clear of that. I’d sit in a room full of people, and not say a fucking word. I had an endless script from a doctor who would soon lose his license. Add to this magic little pills called; Valiums. A few folks knew I’d pop whatever I could find. Take ’em by the handfuls. The effects gave the outward appearance of having too much to drink. I’d bounce off the fucking walls walking to the bathroom. Wake up with bruises not having a clue as to how I got them. No adult supervision. Besides saying that, I take all responsibility for my actions. Could have died countless of times. For whatever reason, the grim reaper keeps looking the other way.

Getting married (age 18) forced me to behave. But from time to time, I did rebel against the responsibility. Steve’s sister and their Mom knew something was up when I broke the news. Felt I was getting married for all the wrong reasons. My actions said it all. Was a serious attempt to save myself. Plus at that time legally I was in a shitload of trouble. My childhood antics finally catching up with me. I found an open road and took it. Now when I rebelled after the fact, anything was possible. Like the one time, I was supposed to fly to West Palm Beach (Florida) to pick up a doctors car and drive it back to New Jersey.  After some drinking at the airport bar waiting for my flight, I instead decided I wanted to visit San Francisco. Hell of a detour. Another story for another day.

My life became the motto; work hard_party harder! Smoked pot and drank beer, mostly. Tried to keep a distance from drugs and whiskey. It took a while, but I did at least calm down some. Steve proceeded in his own direction as well. Time went by. We totally lost touch. Moved from New Jersey to Florida for a spell. When back I tried finding Steve every so often. I never forgot the guy. I spent time running away from my own demons, not his. And then someone told me one day he was dead. A brother from another mother. Wish it would have ended up better for him.

Onward Through The Fog…

…appendage 21 November 2017 – A major rewrite. Hopefully, my editing skills are better than they were six years ago. I added and took away from the original. Various reasons. Am glad to re-publish and improve upon this one. — Gary “Uncle G” Brown


Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#04) – Gateway Drug? Part 2

Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews
Words and Pipe Photography by Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Uncle G’s Corner
Number: 4
April 2011

The 420 Special
Topic: Gateway Drug?
Part Two


Why is it no one says that drinking beer, will only lead later to drinking whiskey? Said as a warning. That a person drinking only beer, will one day certainly crave a stronger alcoholic beverage. Yet, it’s said with pot. Smoke weed one day. Shoot up heroin the next. Designed to be instituted as an automatic thought process. Not that it’s bad to scare the kids. I feel cannabis users should be at least 18 years of age. Am comfortable with them waiting till age twenty-one. Even if it doesn’t seem practical. Another one of those old enough to go to War and fight for our Country, but not old enough to drink a beer (which is fine in moderation for certain individuals) situations. Regardless of my experiences. This having everything to do with full body development, including that of the brain, of our younger generations. The mass message that using cannabis will lead to what I think of as real drugs, known to cause harm mentally and physically ….heroin, or crack just to use as examples, it can’t be any more wrong.

Drinking only beer one night, as compared to only smoking cannabis, is in my opinion, the worse choice between the two. Here’s a fact. Consuming too much alcohol could lead to alcohol poisoning. Simply put, a person could die indulging in this activity. Up to that end of game move, they also could have more than likely, inflicted damage to other living creatures. Animal, or human. It’s a shame that the drunks don’t only hurt themselves. Just saying.

Smoke a lot of cannabis, and odds are you would be too stoned, to even get up out of the chair you were sitting in. At least for a while. And when finally getting up to walk to the bathroom, don’t make a wrong turn and accidentally find the kitchen. Beware the munchies! You’ll never leave that room. On top of this, it’s virtually impossible to smoke oneself to death. I like that. Score one for pot.

It’s true. I consumed a ton of weed in all the time I’ve been smoking it. Two other guys and myself once tried smoking a quarter pound of grass. At one sitting. Method of consumption; bong. Regular pot. Columbian. Girls we knew got wind and crashed. Just as well. Lesson learned by me that evening was that a person can only get so high, smoking weed. Once you hit that plateau, it’s a waste of weed smoking it anymore. Nowadays with weed having higher THC counts, only a small amount of it needs to be consumed, to get that medicated feeling.

Reefer will help to stimulate your senses. It’s like your brain going zero to sixty within a few seconds. Once the THC is in your bloodstream, away you go. Accounts on the person. If in good health, and having no issues, cannabis should increase the odds of having a good day. While under the influence, let’s say you watch a movie. The popcorn tastes better. The movie is more interesting to follow. Alcohol is a depressant. Too much, and your body starts shutting down. Oops. Let the cat out of the bag. It’s true. Certainly sounds like fun (said sarcastically of course). Am sure I came close to that several times.

At age seven, my Mom passed away. Alcoholism. Not a quick death. Whiskey drinker. In the hospital mainly the last few years of her life. Yellow jaundice. Hepatitis. Wet brain. Whatever other problems. I always remembered her. She didn’t at all times remember me. Speaking of memories, most are not pleasant. One would think going through the experience, that I would stay away from the bottle. Didn’t happen that way. I was drawn to it.

My own alcoholic like journey, started right after Mom was buried. My Dad, who was a heavy drinker himself, rushed me into the Catholic religion. I was baptized. No more public school. In the third grade, it was now a Catholic education. Saint Mary’s of South Amboy, New Jersey. Here came communion. I became an altar boy. One benefit of this was that I was able to be alone, behind the altar. Preparing for the mass. A little wine for the priest. A little wine for myself. I still remember the warm feeling in my tummy, it would give me.

Between ages seven and eleven, my Dad raised me. Mostly in bars. Coke and potato chips were my favorite. I dunk the chips with the bubbles in it, in the glass of coke. The chip bubbles would then fill up with cola. Right in my mouth, it went. Delicious! Wise Potato Chips. Yummy! Bet it’s still a favorite of pot heads up North. While also at the bars, I got into music. Played CCR on the jukebox. My memories are filled with 1960’s top ten pop songs.

In the early 1970’s, my Dad had a stroke. Paralyzed one side of his body. He was a tough one. Still got around. When I was eleven, one day he had another stroke. Paralyzed from the neck down, this time. A massive heart attack that night did him in.

Now in Manasquan, New Jersey, and after my Dad’s death, I moved in with an Uncle & Aunt. By age twelve, I drank enough alcohol one day to get totally drunk. I remember coming too in a shower, my friends Mother was giving me. Good thing she was a nurse. I was sick for almost three days.

Had weed by now also. My Uncle & Aunt had two boys, older than me by a few years. The oldest one smoked pot. I would steal some of his.

Hanging out with older kids now. Drinking more. Kicked out of my Uncle and Aunt’s place, and then my first foster home. Second foster home threw me out as well. By the time I’m fourteen, I’m into the fourth home since my Father’s passing. Living in Long Branch, New Jersey. Regularly smoking weed. Drugs entered the picture.

This newest foster home seriously didn’t care. Only about the monthly checks. No adult supervision. Jail. Detention centers. Way more than one. Had my first probation officer when I was age twelve. Lasted till I turned legal, which back then was eighteen. Time on probation kept getting bumped up, with every new thing I did. I survived the experience. As I stated before, peaks and valleys. Am sure it reads like a horror story. It wasn’t all that bad.

Sometimes I got lucky. Was forced by court order, to visit Rahway Prison in New Jersey, so I could participate in the Scared Straight program, a week AFTER they filmed the movie. Like Maxwell Smart would say; missed it by that much. So close. The documentary was hugely popular, and frankly, I would have hated to have to been in it.

As luck would have it, I was yet again arrested after completing the Scared Straight proceedings. Imagine that. Not scared straight. Frightened sideways perhaps? Fleeing from a runaway stolen car. That’s what they call a car after everyone inside it, bails out while the car was still proceeding, forward. Judge suspended sentence. Was warned if I was ever in front of the courts again, that I would have to do the time for what the charges were in this case, and whatever other time for whatever else I did. Oh, in a maximum ADULT security jail. Seeing how I was like seventeen then. A social worker I had advised me to take a tooth-brush with me before the trial. Close one.

A saving grace was that I always was a hard worker. Specializing in semi-skilled labor. Passed on college. Marriage number one was a total failure. Was a foster parent. The kid called me the male provider. We never bonded. No relationship. She liked my ex-wife better. It was really when I was in my early thirties, that I started to pull my head out of my ass. Cannabis stayed with me off and on, till I quit everything back in ’92, and got to know myself better.

Looking back now, out of everything I did back then, cannabis truly, hurt me the least. Matter of fact, I was only smoking that when I decided in the early nineties that I’d try to turn my life around. Yet again. Failed a few times before that. Didn’t matter. Was disappointing putting pot aside. I wanted the totally straight effect. Knew one day grass would be back in my life.

I wonder to myself. I said; self…..has my experience with pot shown that it was a gateway drug? Answer being; nope. Booze and drugs were. Both opened lots of doors. Alcohol seriously releases the inhibitions. Made me search for other highs. Pot never did that. It always made me feel somewhat content. When smoking pot, I’d hang around the ones shooting coke in their arms and always say; no thanks. Nice folks that they were, they always leave me a corner of the bag to snort. One night when drinking, and there was no pot, I said yes to the persistent question of did I finally want to try it the right way.

In a field. In the Carolina’s someplace. At night. A group of us gathered around the headlights, so we could see. I said yes, and they came down like vampires. Acting all happy. The needle was prepared. In it went. Was the best high ever. Experienced in a field, in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful dark night sky. Lots of stars. The weather and temperature were perfect. As I already knew it would be. That’s why up to then, I didn’t try it. That’s the problem. It’s a new game now.

You chase that first high. It was that incredible. At first, I controlled it. Silly drug addict. Coke controls you. Still, I kicked that and alcohol back in 1986. Almost died doing so. Detox was horrible. The itching from all the needle holes healing in my arms drove me crazy. I would have dreams, seeing myself shoot up. So vivid. Took a couple years getting Lady Cocaine out of my system. I stole for her. I’d help steal window air conditioners and sell them for coke. Me and a guy who had one fake leg, and one real one. Stealing kept me on three day binges. The weirdest thing is going to bed on Wednesday, and waking up Friday. Almost went to jail for that drug. Glad I freed myself from its clenches. One of the worst mistakes I ever made, was getting seriously involved with cocaine. One of the best things I ever did, was getting it out of my life.

See what happens with no parental guidance. Today, I’m cool with everything. I took responsibility for all my actions. Got rid of what some might call, the nasty habits. Read a BIG book. Tried to salvage some of my religious experiences. At least make sense of them. Found a good woman. Came to terms with really heavy issues. One was I decided, that my Mom was sick. Nothing personal. She didn’t drink herself to death because she hated me. A little boy will think that. Regarding my behavior; I brought the bottle to my lips. The pills to my mouth. The needles to my veins. Nobody’s fault but mine. From then on, I dealt with it. Took full responsibility for my actions. Carried on. And it’s been a work in progress, ever since. The last time I displayed self-destructive behavior, was around 1992. The time before that was way worse. Mid 1980’s. The cocaine days.

And now in 2011, I just smoke pot. Medically speaking; helps with stress….helps me relax….helps me have fun. Helps me sleep. Medical benefits. And sometimes, I just enjoy getting high. The older me, having fun is staying at home with the wife, smoking a couple bowls, and watching television. Having a nice dinner. Enjoying each others company. If circumstances are different, and I’m home alone, I can keep myself entertained. I like listening to music. A BIG part of my life. I write, using the computer. Keep myself busy. I imagine the man with everything, continues to crave more. Like an obsession. I’m of course striving for better, but content having what I do. Cannabis is an asset in my life. Not a liability.

Here’s a big question. As bad as I was in the past with booze and drugs, why is it pot isn’t motivating me to go back to using them again? In August of 2009, or sometime close to that, I decided to continue my use of cannabis. Smoking pretty much daily, ever since. Why no gateway effect? I certainly qualify. If anything, I’m the damn red flag. “Warning Will Robinson!” I’m not even smoking cigarettes. People figured if I smoked weed, that I would pretty much automatically go back to smoking cigarettes. In a previous entry, I mentioned this. It has not happened yet. Still cigarette free. Since November of 2007 (what the hell — worth mentioning again).

I think it’s because pot doesn’t really do that. A side effect of cannabis isn’t that you’ll predestined to advance your use of other substances. Drink screwdrivers all night long, and then on the way home, contract a Sexually Transmitted Disease. Pot doesn’t do that.

People get confused. They socially smoke cannabis. Then go out drinking. The effects of the weed disappear. The effects of the alcohol take over. In some cases, here comes whatever other drugs, like cocaine. Later on coming forward is a good-looking lady in a black rubber suit, with a long whip in her hand. Pot doesn’t do that. My experience is that sex is enhanced when under the cannabis spell. So it could make that situation at least, somewhat more entertaining. And finally, my conclusion is that this gateway talk is pure nonsense. A tactic used to help keep pot use controlled, and or illegal.

Don’t be afraid to debate this. Do the research yourself. Remember the difference between someone like me remarking from experience, and someone who only knows what they read in books. Question where the so called facts, come from. Apply your own logic. The next time you hear about how using pot will certainly lead its users to other illegal drugs down the road (notice how there is never any concern about the legal ones), tell them to knock it off. Shout when you say; “Uncle G thinks you’re full of crap. Nonsense I tell you…NONSENSE.” Laugh, turn around, and then walk off. Logic never seems to work with these people. Maybe irritation will?

Onward Through The Fog,

Uncle G

Originally Published


Uncle G’s Corner – Gateway Drug? Part One


Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#04) – Gateway Drug? Part 1

27 Sept 2017
Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews
Words and Photography by Gary “Uncle G” Brown
Twitter @GBrown0816

Seeing how this is an archival website, I’d like to introduce to my newer 420 readers, a series of essays I did for a non-profit pro-cannabis website out of New York City, some years ago. One that I’ve been involved with since the year 2011. The webmistress is the wonderful Arlene Williams aka Ganja Granny. I love her to death! The website: Green Ribbon World.

Please note … we’re going back in time. Six years ago. I was married. That one came crashing down in which I was awarded a divorce, one day shy of us being a couple 22 years. No resentment or hard feelings. I wish her well. This is growth. Can’t say I felt that way about wife #02 only months ago. Life goes on. Other aspects in which other parts changed as well. Time stands for no one.

Editing: Versions 2.0 … my aim is to clean up any remaining typos and grammar errors. The originally published essays could be found on the Green Ribbon World website. When finally done (this could take some time) archiving all the past essays published, I’ll start writing new ones. In a way, I already have done so: Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews.


Green Ribbon World (website)

Uncle G’s Corner
Number: 4
April 2011

The 420 Special
Topic: Gateway Drug?
Part One

How many times has this happened? A news story about how cannabis is being considered for legalization. On the TV screen, a reporter, and a stuffy looking, middle-aged person. The reporter asks; “Do you ever see marijuana, legal in this State?” And what else is there to know about the one being asked this? A political representative, currently pretending to do the people’s business. Here’s the response. “Marijuana is a gateway drug!” The voice is loud and stated very matter of fact. Serious look on their face. Appears well rehearsed. Keep in mind, the weapon used here is words. And these words in particular, weird how closely related they are to that other famous political bullshit line; do it for the children.

An example, you say. Here’s one. Let’s raise the price of cigarettes to twenty dollars a pack. Now the kids can’t afford to smoke. I’d say just about most folks would understand this. And in doing so, making the price higher for the adult users, it’s unfortunately, one of those things. For some, there now newest financial crisis, equivalent to collateral damage. They just have to deal with it. As long as the kids are safe. Just keep repeating; it’s for the children. Wanting a better mankind for all. How could a person, not be for that?

Months later you hear the politicians are depending on the extra revenue, generated from that move, to make the yearly budget. They are even disappointed when the money taken in, shows decline from their projected estimates. None of that was said in the past. What was said, was that raising prices would help children. That was the only reason given, wasn’t it? That’s what I remember anyway. And something else happened. A lot of people in their fine State quit smoking cigarettes. Taxes so high it made the product non-affordable anymore. The price is now way too high. Meanwhile back at the ranch, the ones calling themselves our elected elite, lead me to believe that they care more about themselves, their supporters, and their inner world, then they do ‘the kids’. Why not just tell us the truth to start with? I will. The true intention of the “gateway” remark, remember that……is and has always been, to see to it, that cannabis stays illegal.

Our politician has supporters that strongly oppose legalization/decriminalization of cannabis. Thinking about this, the first reason I came up with was, and all too obvious to me was the fear of losing money. Hear me out now (even if you’re reading this). Mostly everyone can identify. General population believes that only the wealthy could afford to lose money. We all got bills. Everyone’s got to eat.

Americans spend on the average, billions of dollars a year, for nothing more than to escape reality. You know, something to help cope with life’s little challenges. How far one goes up the ladder, is up to the individual. So step right up. Booze and pills to the rescue. Soon word gets around that this one brand of muscle relaxer is so much better if one swallows down the pill with a glass of chilled, red wine.

And what do we do when under their influence? One thing really popular is watching reality television. Great zone out material. The reason most love it so I imagine would be to watch what other people’s real life is. Jokes on us. Hollywood made even reality TV, fake. Get this, Jessica Simpson isn’t really all that dumb. Because of a clothing line/empire she has, the lady is damn near a billionaire nowadays. Good for her! Wonder if she has a hemp line? Tee-shirts and whatnot? Support what you believe in. That’s what I say.

So some people figure if pot was made legal, that some of the folks, would buy less alcohol, and need fewer pharmaceuticals. So the answer to making it legal is; no. Portray the weed as evil instead. And say it with conviction. Like it’s the final word. Attitude must be that any action taken to legalize, goes no further. Too bad our friend, the political puppet from paragraph one, don’t see what lies ahead.

Cannabis users are tired of hearing the word; no. The fight for legalization/decriminalization is ongoing. Lately, battles have both been won and lost. Each victory makes the next one a tad easier. Each State has its own version. One day I predict, that the conflicts will go away. Weed will be legal in all States. Cannabis will blend into everyone’s daily life. The only questions will be why, and when to use it. Not having an answer could be just as good an answer, as any other one. Restrictions on weed? There should have never been any rules, or boundaries placed on cannabis. Be it used for recreational, medical, or religious purposes.

I remember some of the 70’s. While sitting on the bowl, I would read publications like National Lampoon, Hustler, or High Times. I thought NORML was a cool organization.

Sometimes when smoking grass, I’d do bongs with the older folks. Defined here as late teens, to people in or around their 30’s. This would have happened from my mid-teens to becoming legal (1979) years.

During the intake of the cannabis, stories would be passed around. A conversation would ensue. Sometimes, about what we were presently inhaling. This time around, it’s the studies of monkeys in a lab somewhere. Official Marijuana Studies. By the United States Government.

The furry primates were forced to wear gas masks, that contained 24/7, piped in reefer smoke. Someone would say they saw pictures. “The monkeys were totally wasted man.” Breathing in Government grown pot. Higher THC levels, may I remind you. Way better than the regular weed we were purchasing. And after being bombarded with all this smoke, they then said how the monkeys were presently, in a coma-like state. Credited to the marijuana, of course. The conclusion which was formed for you was that if you smoked pot, then you’d become brain-damaged. After all, that’s what happened to the monkeys. Goes without even saying that this too could also happen to human beings. I didn’t really believe this garbage. How stupid is this? Of course, we’d expect those results with the monkeys. What human constantly smokes high THC cannabis all day, and all night? From a gas mask? For a long ass period of time? Believe me, people have tried. I figure without the masks. Sooner or later they’d pass out. Hopefully not head first in a bowl of cereal. Horrible headline;

Marijuana User Drowns Face First In a BIG bowl of (insert the name of your favorite cereal munchies when under pot’s influence; Stoned Mini-Wheats?)

To be continued…

Uncle G’s Corner – Gateway Drug? (Part 2)


Gateway Drug? (Part 1) Originally Published