So here we are. After all these years. After blog posts, relapses, self discoveries, breakdowns, rituals, and a thousand conversations with myself, we’ve finally arrived. And now I’m about to ruin the entire blog.

The whole premise. The whole quest. The hours and hours I’ve spent philosophising about the deeper meaning of quitting weed. All the existential questions. All the internal monologues. Because my eureka moment, the thing I’ve uncovered after this long and noble journey of introspection, is probably the most obvious thing ever discovered.

It was the tobacco.
That bastard.
All along.

Let me dress it up in as much ridiculousness as I can, to soften the blow of how spectacularly obvious it is. We’re not talking Indiana Jones cracking ancient riddles here. More like a bloke who just figured out water is wet.

The year was 2018. The place, Amsterdam. Of course it was.

I stroll into a coffeeshop, ready to do what one does in a coffeeshop, and I see something that stops me. No tobacco. Weed is fine. Joints? Sure. But actual tobacco? Forbidden. As if someone had walked into a pub and announced, no glasses allowed. Drink straight from the tap.

Weird, but whatever. I’m adaptable. On each table, there’s a pot. A weird little pot of something green. Not weed, not baccy. Something different. Turns out it’s herbal tobacco. Essentially dried grass dressed as a nicotine replacement. Looked a bit like weed itself, which confused my fingers for a second. It was free. That was all the reason I needed.

So I used it. Rolled it. Smoked it. And you know what? I quite enjoyed it. No nicotine. No sketchy vending machines. No wandering the streets stoned trying to buy baccy from a man named Erik with a vending code and a cold stare. Just me, a joint, and a weirdly pleasant absence of inner compulsion.

BACK IN ENDZ

Came back to the UK, and though I had dube in my drawer, plenty of it, ready to go, I just couldn’t be bothered. Couldn’t be bothered to get high. And that’s when I thought, where the hell had Smeagol gone?

This is the same Smeagol who, come 8:30PM sharp, would start whispering in my head” like a Victorian butler who also happened to be a fiend. “Master, it’s time, you must prepare the precious!” I mean, even if I was mid-orgy with ten of my favourite porn stars, proper lineup!!! I still would’ve peeled myself away just to roll a spliff. Because as powerful as their collective grip(s) may have been, weed had the stronger overall grip on me, and that’s saying something!!

Smeagol always won.
But not this time.

Like any rational man who just discovered something powerful, I went straight to eBay and bought a sack of dusty old leaves off a stranger. More herbal tobacco. Job done. I rolled with it. Permanently. I don’t smoke rollies. I don’t want baccy. I just wanted the weed.

And then it hit me, properly hit me, that the thing dragging me back night after night for years wasn’t Mary Jane. It was nicotine. That physically addictive bastard. Sneaking into every joint, every ritual, every high. All this time I blamed the weed. Gave it lectures. Wrote blog posts about how I was addicted to it.

Nah.

It was the nicotine dressed up in a joint, like a parasite in a party hat.

SPREAD THE LOVE

Naturally, I shared this groundbreaking revelation. I told my mates.

“Lads. It’s not the weed. It’s the tobacco. I’ve figured it out. I’ve cracked it. I’ve beaten the matrix.”

They mocked me. (rightfully)

One mate tried the herbal stuff and said it tasted like foot. Not a foot. Just foot. Singular. As if he was well acquainted with what one tastes like. Which raises questions I’m still not ready to ask. The name stuck. Now we all call it Foot.

Another mate still uses it to cut his tobacco, which is something. A step. But no one really followed the gospel. The church of Foot never found its congregation.

That’s fine. I didn’t preach. I just kept going.

And now here we are. Six years after launching this whole blog to understand my weed addiction, and what do I come back with?

Tobacco is addictive.

Well done, mate. You’ve rediscovered the wheel. Reinvented fire. Congratulations. Here’s a medal and a GCSE in bloody obviousness.

But here’s the real point, buried underneath all the self mockery.

Weed is fun.
Weed is tasty.
Weed is sometimes silly, sometimes spiritual.
But it’s not heroin.

You can get addicted to anything, cheese, bread, Instagram, chaos, but it’s not the same as chemical dependency. Tobacco, that’s a hook. A real one. And it had me. For years. Pretending it was the weed.

The Americans don’t mix weed with tobacco. And I get it now. They dodged a bullet. A brown, crumbling, fifteen quid a pouch bullet.

So yeah. I didn’t quit weed. I just removed the bastard that was actually in charge.

And once he was gone?

I finally got my life back. Or at least, I got to choose when to light up.

Which, in the end, is all I ever really wanted.

So you went downstairs made a sandwich mulled for a bit, made your way back upstairs to your room sat down in your trusty chair, unpaused that YouTube video you were halfway through.  Everything here seems fairly normal so what’s the deal right? However, beknown to yourself things couldn’t be far from the trust.  For come the end of your once filled bag of weed and how much you’ve sold compared to how much you should have sold isn’t adding up? Now the person in this story has no clue what’s going on for they’d never believe their loved ones could steal from them let alone accuse them. However we know different not cos people are inherently bad but moreover, the title of this blog gives it away.

So what now?

This answer doesn’t need delay or elaboration for it’s simple, time to lock the hell up! Be it is safe or strong box the days of leaving your stash out in the open are very much over.   And with the additional effort of having to lock up your stash every single time you’re not in the room a least will come the peace of mind that every single microgram of cannabis is accounted for.

Do you confront your thieves?

Firstly you must ask yourself is there any point in doing so, for they may just flatly deny any knowledge of stealing anything which may just lead to more frustration. Now if you’re particularly of the savvy kind and are equipped with hidden Wi-Fi cameras that activate on movements and can prove that somebody has indeed been dipping your stash this footage could assist you in confronting the thief.  However do be aware that this could also be the end of your friendship, or could be the beginning of a family feud that could last for many years. To which in the end you just have to ask yourself is it worth it and as the answer be no then live with this you must and never speak a word you must not.

So let’s take this back to many a day when wasted. I would spend hours setting up my bedroom with fans and canned air fresher to combat the fat ass Dubey that I had rolled.  I remember leaving the room after smoking one to only come back to only realise that the entire upstairs corridor stank out! MISSION FAILED.  I didn’t have a balcony or a big ass window but tried none the less to work with the room and create an Amsterdamesk Smoke-Free CoffeeShop environment.  Things would be great, they really would and I put that down to the great weed I’d be smoking.  This was complete zen, in my place of choosing everything was perfect…. right up until my mother bursting into the room shouting obscenities at me.   Occasionally, during the summer with everybodies windows open, my smoke would go around the house and enter my sister’s bedroom.  I’ll never forget how she ended up screaming at the top of her voice outside the window at midnight “STOOP SMOKING CANNABIS!!, IT’s ILLEGAL, I’m CALLIN THE POLICE!!” Now I was high as fuck, but hearing her voice echoing around the neighbourhood her shouting at the high of lungs was kinda a buzzkill.

THEN ALONG CAME MEDICINAL MARIJUANA

On the 19 Oct 2009 in America the U.S Justice Department announced that federal prosecutors would not go after medicinal users and distributors who complied with state laws.  Back then nobody really knew what was going on, as under US Federal Law weed was still illegal even in states that legalised it hence we saw an explosion of dispensaries being stormed into my large teams of DEA.  However almost a decade later, it seems that this is actually real and I watch YouTube videos with people referring to their ganja as ‘medicine’ which is a testament to how times have changed.

When Actually Was Marijuana used as Medicine

The earliest mentions of medicinal use go back to 2900 BC Chinese Emperor Fu Hsi References Marijuana as a Popular Medicine that possessed both yin and yang. Then again 2700 BC according to Chinese legend, the emperor Shen Nung (also known as Chen Nung) who was considered the Father of Chinese medicine, discovered marijuana’s healing properties as well as those of two other mainstays of Chinese herbal medicine, ginseng and ephedra.

Do Your Parents Believe That You Use This As “MEDICINE”

Being shouted at

As a sufferer of severe Sleep Apnea, I was diagnosed very late and despite owning a CPAP machine I’ve been unable to use the machine and benefit from it and hence my Sleep Apnea remains untreated.  I quit cannabis for about 6/7 months, only to discover that my sleep was heavily impacted.  I would wake up at random intervals throughout the night i.e 1.30am, 3.30am, 5am, 7.30am, 8.30am.  This would drive me absolutely crazy, as I was literally unable to stay under as my sleep apnea was actively waking me up.  My ENT specialist initially prescribed me many different meds, which I found to be overpowered or far to strong, and when I researched online I found that side effects of some of the pills where just not worth it.  Alas I moved back towards smoking weed and I found specific strains of cannabis to be very effective in helping me sleep, as THC was medically proven to be conducive to breathing.  However, I would find explaining this to my parents an uphill struggle.  Whilst the drug remained illegal in the UK for all purposes, my family were not convinced of its medicinal value and just called me a JUNKIE and A DRUG ADDICT.   My sister showered me with “You’re GONNA DIE, and it’s because you’re a DRUG ADDICT” and over emotional sentiments, which then weeks later I found my parents reading off the same script, which doesn’t surprise me as BITCHING about me in my family is almost a TRADITIONAL pasttime! Alas i’m on my own with my believes (shared by the entire world) but till then I draw my curtains, and get the fans ready for sadly my illiterate parents choose to deny any positive fact of its medicinal value, and my sister is just stubborn and must win & be right regardless to any cost.

HERE are the following countries have legalised cannabis for medical use as of 2018.  When the FUCK is UK gonna be on the list???

• Argentina
• Australia
• Canada
• Chile
• Colombia
• Croatia
• Cyprus
• Czech Republic
• Denmark
• Finland
• France
• Germany
• Greece
• Israel
• Italy
• Luxembourg
• Macedonia
• Malta
• Mexico
• Netherlands
• New Zealand
• Norway
• Peru
• Poland
• Romania
• San Marino
• Slovenia
• Spain
• Sri Lanka
• Switzerland
• Turkey
• Uruguay
• Vietnam
• Zambia
• Zimbabwe

THE ROUTINE

So often does it happen that you’ve been picking up your weed from the same guy from years and years.  It’s almost a routine, you go in, take a seat, talk about what’s been going on, even sometimes express your deepest and darkest secrets to this man as after all he’s not connected to anybody – it’s almost as good confession, right? After all, you surely can’t be judged badly in the eye of a full-time drug dealer right?  So yeah life is good, his weed is generally pretty good and so what’s there to complain about it.  He makes you a cup of tea and tells you where he picks up his stuff from. “Does he TRUST ME?” you wonder to yourself. He leaves the room, with an open bag of weed, to which you approximate the quantity quietly to yourself.  “He MUST TRUST ME!!! There must be at least 2 Pounds of weed he’s left with me unattended – I COULD STEAL IT ALL, LEAVE THE COUNTRY, CHANGE MY NAME, Own in FARM IN AFRICA!!!” He then returns back with your cup of tea and proceeds to roll a joint.  This is what they call “the ol leave the bag of weed in the room” trick, standard procedure which has been passed down to dealers from generation to generation.

ON SALE : MAGIC WEED GROWN BY ELVES OF MORDOR

So once comfortable with your dealer and he with you, let’s talk business son! “Have a look at this stuff” he hands you a massive bud from his sack. This is your cue to look at the weed in the light and return back glorious compliments of how wonderful and crystaly and amazing this stuff is.  You’re the best!! Sir, How much for this FANTASY weed that you possess.  “It’s pretty hi-grade stuff, it’s a little bit more expensive that than the usual” At this point, you wonder “didn’t you have this same sack here last week” Alas, you stop wondering and reconnect with his speaking again, and reply as if you were listening the whole time.  In which among his blurb was a price, of how much the damage will be for this WEED that has been grown by the Elves of Mordor.  More expensive? but only by $10 you think,… fine! As you’ve travelled so far anyway to get here, seems pointless to care for a ten.  HOld on? wasn’t it a ten more last week and the week before that?? In fact, what was once $340 an Ounces is now $490 cos apparently this new shit is “REALLY GOOD and apparently worth the amount…Grown by Elves remember!?!?!”  You start to ponder on this and you wonder if you really can leave this house without buying anything?

Almost like the stock the exchange, the price of this FANTASTIC MYSTICAL AND MAGICAL WEED keeps going up and up every bloody week.

AND JUST LIKE THAT, IT ALL DOES DARK!

Quite literally, one day you decide!! “I’ve had it! I will no longer be a slave to you pressure me selling weed, which in fairness was always good but not quite MORDOR level one thinks.  WELCOME the Dark Markets from the DEEP WEB….HELLOOOOO!!! So one decides through a friend who happens to be adept with the deep web and knowledgeable in this area to get some stuff in, can’t hurt for a change.  To begin with, it is dark very dark until you open the PACKAGE, and exposed are the beautiful buds of weed were the light bounces off the crystals blinding you and everyone else in the room.  This experience is life changing and affects the core of how you see life – can you ever go back to the way it was?

SO WHAT DOES YOUR EX-DEALER THINK ABOUT THIS?

NOT HAPPY? – NO SHIT SHERLOCK… HELL NO, he ain’t fucking happy about this! He broke the 2nd law of business which was ‘DO NOT BE GREEDY’.  Those who flease, and extort may receive larger than usual payouts, however, that also could be the last payout.  It’s unfortunate, but it’s simply a no-brainer, buying online allows you the ability to shop about, and choice weed at prices that suite you and assuming you’ve found a good vendor you can buy some absolutely insanely good weed.  Now your ex-dealer lets it slide the first week, and perhaps even the second, but wait you’ll get a phone call asking you to come over as he’s got “some cheaper weed to sell if you’re interested”.  You attended as requested, and on entering you realise clearly, it’s the same stuff as before as I mean let’s be honest, that 2-pound bag of weed isn’t disappearing overnight.  Let’s give the guy of a break, he’s lost some big business here and some could argue it’s not his fault, others could say it was his fault as his continual racking up the prices i.e his greed led his customers to explore the potential of looking elsewhere. On doing they found better and bright deals, which actually suited them more in every way. So sure, Mr EX DEALER will be really annoyed at you, and he won’t be shy to show it.

CONCLUSION

It’s like anything in life when a window glazing guy appears to your door, or an electrician claiming you need all your house wiring changed else FIRE!!! It’s usually crap, and if you look around you can find a better deal.  Alas, the moral of our story here today was that greed forced our dealer’s customers to explore the possibility of looking elsewhere for their gear and what they found was just better in every single way times ten.  The dealer or EX-dealer as we’ve referred to him here really has to suck eggs on this one, and truly has himself to blame ultimately.

For what would he do be the situations reversed, where he could buy a much superior product at a lot cheaper price, from what you’re selling? No brainer? EXACTLY.