We are the internet generation and we want to smoke cheap marijuana too!

April 5, 2012 1:45 pm

A consumer-biased spliff market analysis.

 

“It will be the general philosophy of the sheriff’s office that no drug worth taking shall be sold for money.” – Hunter S. Thompson.

The High Priest of Gonzo was a great man and one of the few who knew what it means to be really free. He also had a dream, that one day we could all get high without being shot in the back of the head by a spook in a black suit. Or arrested. Or being under threat of getting arrested. The people want to smoke their dope out in the open, and not hide from the cops anymore. This was the central point of his campaign for sheriff of Pitkin County, Colorado, in 1970 and he almost won. Hunter knew that the illegal status of drugs is primarily a financial drain on the working folk and, therefore, a means of oppression against the middle class.

Apparently, any free market is only as free as its suppliers and all the economic dogma about free markets and self regulation is bulls**t when it comes to narcotics, including weed. The market is as de-regulated as it can get, since the laws clearly say it’s illegal to buy, sell and possess, yet nobody is bothered. The marijuana market in the UK is especially disgraceful and reminding of a totalitarian regime because in spite of theoretically being open and free, it’s the most closed and monopolized cannabis market in the whole of Europe. Although many are growing ganja and even more are selling it, a bit over a gram (1.3) costs £20 in most parts. Down south you cannot get a better price than that no matter who you know. This is called oligopoly and it is a very bad thing. Everybody’s holding on to this ridiculous price with their teeth, because cannabis is perceived as an inelastic product and people will smoke it whatever, but considering how there are many different types and qualities, it’s inelastic only because the demand and the retail price are the same no matter the quality, and that’s simply wrong.

You can get a discount if you buy an ounce or more, which costs around £200 for the regular stuff, but considering the bulk of the purchase, that’s not a very big discount, is it? If you buy an ounce of high grade Cheese, let’s say, it’s gonna cost you £250 for 28 grams, which means almost £9 for one gram. Still a lot more expensive than most parts of Europe. I used to live in Denmark before I moved to the UK and I’ll tell you what, I didn’t relocate because of the spliff. Back in Scandinavia a 1.3 grams bag of proper stuff costs exactly ten pounds – half the price in the UK – and very few people grow in Denmark. It’s mostly imported from the Netherlands or grown outdoors over the summer. In Amsterdam, I know for a fact that a kilo of purple haze can be yours for the lump-sum price of €2400, right in the coffee shop – a thousand grams! Yay!

The best deal I got in the UK was an 82 gram tablet of pretty weak Moroccan hash from an old hippie in Brighton. It had cost me 360 (three hundred and sixty) Pounds Sterling and I smoked it all in a month, with the help of a friend of course.

The situation is outrageous and unacceptable and if the price of green in this country doesn’t somehow come down, I really fear the dark, old and forgotten days of sniffing glue and waving mullets of dyed hair will be back in full force. There’s a genuine risk of civil unrest among the nation’s poorest – the students and the proles living on benefits. Students are easy to keep in check – all we need is internet and weed, but the proles pose a big threat to National Security if they don’t smoke. Imagine the streets of the Kingdom thrashed with vomit and broken glass and empty takeaway packaging, ridden with flocks of white, crazy, anxious and philandering males looking for a fist fight to vent all their repressed feelings towards a country that betrayed them. Towards a country that has taken the ‘marywanner’ from the hands of the farmer and put it in the hands of the corner boy who doesn’t respect or appreciate anything, but relentlessly sells it for profit until he makes enough money to move up to cocaine. I have found that the hippie dope dealer dash friend who occasionally helps you out free of charge when you’re in the ropes is a myth, at least in Southampton (if anybody knows better, please point me in the right direction because I’m sick of these half-assed hustlers). As I was saying, the town’s DSS white people – violent males and obese females, aren’t happy. They don’t value friendship and they don’t believe in anything except getting pissed and eating kebab in front of their big screen TV, which is also their best friend who tells them everything they need to know. This particular group doesn’t even read The Daily Mail. Keep in mind that none of them like you very much and all they’re waiting for is the chance to get back for everything that went wrong in their lives. The sudden realisation that I’m utterly unarmed and helpless overwhelms me at this point in time, so a change of drift is in order. Bottom line, the MI5 or 6 should infiltrate the weed world and start enforcing some control to drive down the prices as a matter of urgency, considering the approaching Olympics and all that.

I don’t know how the situation stands in other cities, but in Soton there’s such a thing as Empress Road – a backdoor alley next to the railway, full of crack dens, smack houses, car wrecks and prostitutes. I believe this apocalyptic scene is only the beginning – in the near future that will be a common sight on every street of the UK – and it should be, few things calm the f**k right out of you like a bit of smack cooked up in a bent spoon and shamefully shot up a trembling arm – at least according to Irvine Welsh, and he should know. People need their anxiety treatment after all, and they will get it the nice way or the ugly way – no big difference to them. The real victims here are the God-fearing passers-by of these gruesome scenes, who never fully recover after witnessing such acts of human decay and never look at their children with the same eyes again.

Let all the dealers beware: There’s no love for the hemp plant anymore, and it’s too bad, because it sure has lots of love for us. One joint a day keeps the evil away, and yours truly is the perfect example of a life saved from the claws of demons and self destruction. Had I not been born in the Wild East, ganja would have turned me into a Buddhist. It came very close. Smoking weed is not remotely an act of depravity, but it’s an act of sanity maintenance for people who can’t afford a therapist or feel awkward talking to one about their compulsive mast***ation and unhealthy obsession for large pets.

This rant is a cliché, that’s a given, after all it is impossible to be talking about your views on marijuana without falling into the same-old; “It’s just that I like to b***h and moan and I never hold back”. When these sanctimonious pr**ks calling themselves moralists antagonize things they only know about hypothetically, that gives me the perfect reason I need to start yet another waste of time and online space.

Snoop Dogg makes it very clear in his song, My Medicine. Jack was also undergoing severe distress as a result of the high price of the bud bag, until his wife finally realised it’s worth selling her body to save both their souls. After all – “What’s the use of the truth if you can’t get a lie sometimes, baby?”

Grow up.

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