When Stripe tried to shut down Jackie Bryant’s Cannabitch newsletter for the specious crime of writing about weed, I (Clare Sausen) covered it for High Times. Turns out, reaching out to Stripe for comment was apparently all it took to get her account switched back on within the hour.

Two years later, that fight has a new life: Bryant is one of several case studies in Transaction Denied (Beacon Press, 2026), Freedom of the Press Foundation co-founder and Electronic Frontier Foundation alum Rainey Reitman’s new book on how banks and payment processors’ policies limit free speech.

Below is an excerpt from the book and a conversation between Reitman and Bryant about what happened, why financial censorship is a free-speech problem and not just a banking one, and what “winning” this battle means or doesn’t in the end — plus where Cannabitch goes from here (Spoiler alert: It lives; it dies; it lives again.)

Jackie Bryant has a gold nose ring and cursed fluidly when I spoke to her. The managing editor of San Diego Magazine, Bryant first built her career and her reputation as a subculture icon while serving as the marijuana reporter for San Diego’s weekly newspaper CityBeat. When Arizona-based Times Media Group bought and slowly dismantled CityBeat, Bryant moved her popular column Cannabitch to Substack, remarking that Times Media Group struck her as “visionless losers who couldn’t put out a good paper to save their lives.”

On Substack, Bryant could publish her articles for free online, and readers who wanted to could send her financial support via Stripe, Substack’s sole payment processor. This style of direct online publication is popular with many freelance journalists as newspapers face cuts and the industry struggles to figure out new ways of making money.

Prior to meeting Bryant, I didn’t understand just how much was being written about cannabis. But cannabis is a multi-billion-dollar industry with an enthusiastic fan base, so there are dedicated journalists who cover industry happenings, new products, and community issues the same way there are journalists covering cars or video games. Plus, the decades-long political fight for federal legalization means there’s never a lack of things to write about. Bryant is among the more prominent of these cannabis reporters.

Bryant’s acerbic analysis of the cannabis industry, playful voice, and meticulous research make her articles a delight to read even if you don’t normally follow cannabis publications. Her articles span everything from cheeky holiday gift guides to explorations on evolving cannabis medical research. Cannabitch has proven to be a successful solo enterprise since moving to Substack, earning Bryant thousands a year and winning awards like the San Diego Society of Professional Journalists’ Best Blog award.

In fall 2023, Bryant learned that her Stripe account had been flagged due to her journalism about marijuana. “I think they hit me first because of the name of the newsletter,” she told me, then she pointed out a variety of other newsletters on Substack focused on cannabis. Bryant appealed the decision, then began a months-long battle with Stripe to save her account. She sent me her email correspondence with Stripe, in which Stripe’s coldly bureaucratic responses are met with Bryant’s impassioned and expletive-laced replies.

In one message, Bryant was told, “Unfortunately, following an additional review of your account we’re still unable to support your business as it falls under one of our restricted businesses categories.”

Bryant wrote back immediately: “I wasn’t aware journalism is a restricted category.”

Stripe’s terms prohibit cannabis products, dispensaries, and “related businesses,” as well as “courses and information on cultivating marijuana.” But it seems a ludicrous over-enforcement to shutter the account of a journalist for merely writing articles about cannabis.

Substack caught wind of the issue and tried to intervene to help Bryant. The newsletter company wasn’t able to get her account reinstated but did help gather information on why her account was on the chopping block, and Bryant was able to share copies of this communication with me. Apparently, even though Bryant did not sell cannabis or cannabis paraphernalia, Stripe was concerned because Bryant was linking to websites that did sell those things. In a response to Substack, a representative of Stripe said:

“The users [sic] journal links to places to purchase unsupportable items which is why they fall into the Sub Cat 5. For the user to be supportable, they would no longer be able to link to any sites that sell cannabis or cannabis supplies. There is an example on almost every page the user has published. [. . .] The user would need to audit their own blog and remove links and we would then re-review their page.”

Bryant responded swiftly, writing: “I generally link to things in the context of journalism. There’s a zillion newsletters that use stripe [sic], that aren’t focused on cannabis, that link to cannabis related things in the course of whatever storytelling.” In the end, Bryant wasn’t willing to remove links from her articles. As she told a representative of Substack: “I decided not to. It’s censorship, and I’m not selling anything. If that’s the terms, then I guess I reject on principle and will just have to have an unpaid newsletter! It sucks but it’s a line too far for me. [. . .] It’s too compromising for my ethics and I need to hold the line.”

Bryant told me that Stripe benefited from its relationship with Cannabitch: “Stripe made money off of me this whole fucking time, too. They take 10 percent of my sales, which is not an insignificant amount. They’ve been taking money for four years from me.”

After months of circular debates with Stripe, Bryant gave up. She used social media to tell the world what had happened to her. “The long arm of cannabis prohibition has finally come for me,” she wrote on LinkedIn. “Stripe, which is a horrible company to deal with, probably the worst customer service I’ve ever encountered, is closing my account associated with my Substack newsletter, Cannabitch, because they think I’m violating their terms of sale (I’m not.).”

Her posts got a ton of attention, including from Clare Sausen, a journalist for the prominent cannabis magazine High Times, who reached out to Stripe for comment before publishing a detailed article about Bryant’s account closure.

That media attention was likely the tipping point for Stripe, which suddenly capitulated and reinstated Bryant’s account. On the same day that Sausen published her article, Bryant received a notification that her Stripe account was up and running again: “Thank you for providing additional information about your business, Jacqueline Bryant. We have successfully completed our review, and you are welcome to continue processing payments with Stripe.”

This pattern is similar to other cases of financial censorship I have seen: publicity preceded a financial company’s decision to change its position and reinstate an account that had been blocked due to an alleged terms of service violation. It’s a stark reminder that companies like Stripe have an incredible amount of leeway in how they interpret and enforce their terms of service. When it suits them to do so, they shutter accounts. But with enough heat from outside attention, they can often be pressured to change their position—highlighting that it is corporate whim, not legal requirements, behind many financial censorship decisions.

I asked Bryant about the financial exclusion facing any person or organization connected to cannabis, and she pointed to the deep-seated stigma facing the cannabis world: “I think it’s less coordinated and more just the result of decades of prohibition and stigma, to be perfectly honest. And misunderstanding.”

Stripe’s original request that Bryant remove the hyperlinks in her newsletter continues to bother me. It is a level of review so specific that it amounts to Stripe actively suggesting edits to her written work. It’s not only that Stripe shouldn’t be weighing in on which links can be included in journalistic articles about cannabis (which, to be clear, is really inappropriate). It’s also offensive that Stripe is trying to strip away hyperlinks at all.

In our era of online journalism, hyperlinks are accountability. They serve as a tool to empower readers to assess the source material of a writer and make their own conclusions. Links serve as citations for blog posts and other online articles. Removing those links denies readers a simple way to check the facts themselves or learn more about a topic. Especially in an era where so many have lost confidence in online journalism, we need to encourage writers to include more links, not fewer.

Hyperlinks are also a signal to the wider internet. Larry Page and Sergey Brin founded Google on their PageRank algorithm, which used the number of links to a page to determine how important it was. That signal still plays its part in the algorithms that decide what hits the top of your search results or gets preferentially mentioned by an AI. Demanding the removal of links not only hides context from the readers of journalists affected by Stripe’s policies; it hides them from everyone else.

This suggestion is also offensive to those of us who live much of our lives online and who intuitively understand hyperlinks as the glue that holds the internet together. That interconnectivity is core to the creative, chaotic, weird nature of the internet itself. Who among us hasn’t found ourselves clicking down an internet rabbit hole and arriving on some strange, unexpected new digital territory that might delight or horrify or entertain us, or maybe a bit of all three? It’s not for payment processors to start carving censorship culverts around legal websites.

Bryant refused to remove the hyperlinks from her newsletter, and eventually—after pressure from Substack and a widely read news article—Stripe relented and backed down. But this situation raises many more questions. How many other times has Stripe demanded a writer remove hyperlinks from her articles or risk losing her Stripe account? And how many writers comply without a fight because they feel they have no other choice?

Evidence of censorship is always erasing itself. The examples I’m able to identify and verify will only ever be the tip of the iceberg, and the full scope of the problem is probably immeasurable. That’s because website owners and online writers are quick to change their words, censor images, remove articles, or even take down whole websites if that’s what it takes to maintain a relationship with a financial company. Bryant and others like her represent just a minuscule percentage of those impacted: those who refused to comply with the censorship demand and were willing to speak out publicly against it and had enough of an online presence that the story was able to attract public attention.

In the end, Stripe recognized that Bryant wasn’t breaking any laws and reinstated her account. I want to acknowledge that Stripe eventually arrived at the right decision in this case, even if it took months of debate and a lot of public and private pressure for the company to get there. But doing the right thing once does not absolve the company of having vague policies and no public accountability for how those policies are enforced.

Post-publication, Jackie sat down with Rainey to learn more about the book’s journey:

JB: What surprised you most about the cannabis journalism space once you started reporting it?

RR: I was amazed at the incredible breadth of journalism and research happening in the cannabis space. This was my first time really diving deep into the space, and I had no idea that there were so many cannabis-specific news publications engaged in truly incredible journalism. It ranged from hard-hitting research pieces to philosophical and fanciful think pieces to everything in between. I’ve worked with journalists in different capacities for years, and I had only brushed against the cannabis space when it intersected with surveillance prior to this, so I was delighted to find such a well-developed area of journalism.

JB: You frame what happened to me as a speech problem rather than a banking problem — why does that distinction matter?

RR: There are lots of communities and individuals who struggle with banking access, and there are many important societal values involved in addressing that. But I’ve been particularly focused on this one especially pernicious issue: when people engaged in legal speech lose access to the financial system, seemingly in connection with that speech. This type of censorship takes a page from an authoritarian’s handbook, where financial access becomes a weapon used to punish disfavored speakers. In our modern society, people—and websites and journalistic publications—cannot get by without access to the financial system, and even temporary interruptions to online payments can have devastating financial consequences for small publications and individual writers. So when financial companies weigh in on issues of online speech, the ramifications can be massive. I wanted to bring those issues into the light.

JB: When you were researching, did you find other examples of financial companies getting as granular as Stripe did with my links?

RR: I rarely saw financial companies actually wanting to engage in line edits of written content the way Stripe did with your articles—actually suggesting that you remove hyperlinks to your research. The closest parallel was likely in the adult content space, where advocates told me about banks reviewing the content of adult websites and offering fairly granular feedback: remove these words, change this video title, these other words are OK. What struck me in that case was that individual bankers were literally making editing choices for adult content sites, and those choices were pretty arbitrary; a different bank employee might offer different feedback on a different day. It’s a level of editorializing that’s shocking to contemplate. But Stripe’s editorializing on your hyperlinks is the first time I’ve seen that with written articles.

JB: The companies doing this — do you think they know they’re censoring people or is it just automated indifference?

RR: At this point, I think most legal departments at financial companies are aware of the speech implications of what they are doing, at least to some extent. That’s because there have been key court cases involving financial censorship—including a Supreme Court case—that raised First Amendment challenges. But it’s quite possible that individual compliance officers who are executing these policies for financial companies may be unaware of their impact.

JB: You write about WikiLeaks, Muslim communities, adult content creators, cannabis journalists — what’s the actual thread connecting all of them beyond debanking?

RR: The thread connecting all of the communities I profiled is that they are speakers who, in some way, challenge those with more power. Political activists, journalists, even those in the cannabis startup space—all of these speakers are, in some ways, voices who lack power in our society. I found that this tool, financial censorship, was a powerful method for punishing heterodox speakers who challenge the status quo. But we don’t see it used to punish those with a lot of power. Multinational corporations don’t struggle with losing a PayPal account.

JB: Operation Choke Point gets brought up constantly in cannabis banking conversations. How much of what’s happening now traces back to that versus just institutional stigma that nobody’s examined?

RR: I think the specter of Operation Choke Point likely continues to this day. Compliance officers at financial institutions are famously skittish. They aren’t going to do anything that could draw the ire of regulators. Even if Operation Choke Point technically ended, it was in place long enough to create a shadow of uncertainty and fear around banking anything related to cannabis or cannabis paraphernalia.

JB: You write that often there’s a “whiff of government involvement but it’s hard to prove.” How do you think about that in the cannabis context specifically?

RR: I often think of government pressure as being like an iceberg—we see only the top part above the water, but it can be enormous beneath the surface. I name specific examples of overt government pressure in my book, but most of the examples did not include a known government request that we could point to. In the cannabis context, we know that cannabis was implicated in the Obama-era Operation Choke Point, in which government regulators pressured financial companies to shutter the accounts of legal but supposedly high-risk industries. The legacy of that flawed program still exists today, likely affecting financial access throughout the cannabis space.

JB: You’re proposing something like a Section 230 for banks — the idea that payment processors shouldn’t be liable for the activities of the people who use their services. Doesn’t that cut both ways?

RR: I think one of the problems we have in our financial system now is that all the incentives are lined up in only one direction: financial companies can suffer enormous consequences for, say, allowing even one inadvertent transaction that violates sanctions, but they basically never suffer consequences for shutting off accounts or blocking transactions for law-abiding people. I’d like to see us realign those incentives so that financial companies are prompted to keep accounts open by default and will really hesitate to close the accounts of customers who haven’t engaged in fraud or illegal activity.

JB: You said publicly that you’re not interested in giving people a checklist of individual solutions. What are you actually asking people to do? What can they do? Any suggestions for taking existential threats like surveillance, etc, and making the average person able to grasp and tango with them?

RR: I just don’t think this is an individual problem. It’s a fundamental flaw in the way our banking system is structured that allows financial institutions to even think they have the right to act as online censors. I don’t think it should be on individual consumers to fix that problem; we should be asking our policymakers and financial institutions to do better.

Rather than suggesting that individual people insulate themselves from harm by opening multiple bank accounts or taking similar steps, I think we're better off spending our time pressuring policymakers to do better on these issues. So if folks want to do something, I normally say to support nonprofits working in this space. The Freedom of the Press Foundation, which I co-founded and to which I donate half of my author proceeds from the book, has championed journalists' rights, including cannabis journalists. The ACLU argued and won a Supreme Court challenge involving speech and financial censorship. The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression is also at the forefront of this topic.

JB: Anything else you’d like my specific cannabis-working/consuming audience to know that we didn’t touch on?

RR: Even since publishing this book, I’ve heard from other cannabis journalists who have lost access to the financial system. I think this is an ongoing problem.

—

When Clare Sausen heard about Jackie’s situation, she brought the story to High Times (as mentioned in the excerpt above). After multiple denials, appeals, and run-arounds by the customer service team, she reached out to Stripe on behalf of the publication for comment before the story went up. Jackie got an email from Stripe within the hour.

“Hi Jacqueline,” it began. “Thank you for providing additional information about your business. We have completed our review, and you are welcome to continue processing payments with Stripe. If you have any questions, you can contact us at any time at our support site.”

Now, her career has shifted significantly. When she’s not writing, she edits at Leaf Magazines, is a Professor of Journalism and Media Studies at San Diego State University, and also does brand creative work for Miss Grass. How did this case inspire the shift, and where does Cannabitch go from here?

–

CS: It’s been two years since Stripe threatened to ban Cannabitch from Substack. What’s changed about your approach to the platform?

JB: I had already ramped down on regularly publishing Cannabitch – I had a full-time job editing San Diego Magazine at the time and I had been doing it long enough to know the ebbs and flows, the tells of a struggling wider media environment – publications going under, subscription fatigue, people losing work. It wasn’t a conscious decision to ramp down Cannabitch, but I needed to rely on higher-paying work to get by as someone self-employed, so I started teaching university, taking on other magazine editing work, and also doing brand creative work. I had also recently had a baby and, truthfully, didn’t have the energy to rely on my own start-up, especially not one that’s getting negatively flagged merely for existing.

This situation confirmed to me how precarious working independently can be; it prompted me to think, “I want to do the work, but it needs to look different and be more financially and legally secure.” That realization helped me make peace with brand work, too, as a safer refuge when being independent in media can be too legally or financially risky. It’s not much consolation, as working in the cannabis industry itself is also precarious in many ways and not the most financially safe career path.

Cannabitch has always been a place for me to stake my claim, be more experimental and more myself, and that pays off mentally, intellectually, and also personal brand-wise, of course. That won’t stop, it just may be infrequent until I can come up with a funding model that doesn’t require so much blood, sweat, and tears at this exact moment.

Regarding how I feel about the whole thing in hindsight…it’s a feather in any journalist’s cap to engage in this kind of argument with a corporate entity and win, and I definitely consider this whole debacle in that vein. Plus, to have your work be the subject of a dispute is a nice philosophical argument for proving a point, which I love to do.

I wasn’t originally trying to make a point; I just wanted my account back. But I wavered on what to do and how to handle it. I thought I was overreacting at the time, but being featured in Transaction Denied and in the media surrounding the book proves that I wasn’t. It is wrong and a flagrant violation of free speech.

CS: How has this situation shaped your work both as a professor of journalism and as a reporter?

JB: This put my feet to the fire as a test of my process and ethics – even though this time I was the story. It informs both my reporting and my teaching; I tell my students to watch for ways their free speech can be curbed after going through the process myself.

My entire body of work and its nature were being questioned. Stripe was accusing my journalism of aiding in commercial drug trafficking.

It’s weird for me to consider that I’m doing work that’s important enough to be challenged and, still, I don’t even think that’s what’s necessarily happening. Still, I do believe that performing cannabis journalism or advocacy in any measure is inherently political, not to mention extremely financially and legally precarious. It’s not just “stoner culture.”

I come from the world of food and wine writing, which can also be perceived as frivolous, but it’s quite serious – where does your food come from? How does it get there? Who’s growing it – and what are they being paid? People don’t always realize that cannabis journalism also raises these questions and, in turn, drives our economy and culture in other ways.

Transaction Declined validates provocative journalism outside of the cannabis world as well. It shows that it’s worth paying attention to and, more importantly, it’s worth shutting up.

CS: What advice do you have for other writers facing financial censorship?

JB: Honestly, this is not really a win for anyone but me. I’m aware of that. When I sounded the alarm, it got some attention, but unfortunately, that’s not always true for everyone else. The bigger you are, the better your chances of being the squeaky wheel and having that benefit you.

I was also unwilling to fold or to acquiesce. I spent six months communicating with Stripe before a real human at Substack got involved. It had to escalate. By then, I also had a story to tell, with ridiculous receipts. I knew how to angle this story, even though it’s not what I set out to do.

The simple lesson here is that it’s happening. Frankly, the laws have to change. Read Rainey’s book.

–

When magazines like High Times have existed openly for decades, the idea that journalism itself could be flagged as facilitating drug trafficking reveals just how blurry and expansive financial censorship has become.

These systems operate through vague terms of service, automated sweeps, and contradictory communications to pressure – or exhaust controversial industries and marginalized voices into silence.

In Jackie’s case, she ultimately got her account back. But, as she points out, not everyone has the visibility, resources, or media connections to survive that kind of fight. For many independent writers and creators, losing access to payment infrastructure means losing their livelihood entirely. The larger issue is how much power private financial platforms now hold over who gets heard in the first place.

Clare Sausen (left) and Jackie Bryant (right) at Hall of Flowers

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Earlier today, the Acting Attorney General issued a final order to move state-legal medical cannabis from Schedule I to Schedule III, while leaving adult-use, synthetics, and hemp untouched. It’s a narrow, but significant, move with potentially massive consequences: 280E relief for medical operators (possibly retroactive?!), new questions for dual-license businesses, and fresh uncertainty around exports and federal enforcement. It does nothing regarding criminalization, expungement, clemency, or anything else regarding criminal justice.

To sort out what actually changed and what’s still guesswork, I crawled out of my Cannabitch publishing hole and spoke with Hirsh Jain of Ananda Strategy. In this Q&A, edited lightly for clarity, he walks through the order, the legal and tax stakes, and why this move may finally expose how absurd the federal medical/adult-use split really is.

Jackie Bryant: Did the industry or general public have any real sense that today’s executive order was coming, or did it land as a surprise?

Hirsh Jain: I think we kind of knew this was coming. There was Trump’s executive order from four months ago saying that the DOJ should expeditiously reschedule marijuana. And then, from a political perspective, many people speculated that he would want to take action before the midterms.

No one knew the exact date — people have been guessing wrong for the last three or four months. But in response to that specific question, we all knew something was coming, although I don’t think anyone anticipated that it would come in exactly this form.

JB: I was legitimately surprised, and it sounds like many plugged‑in people were too. So walk us through what actually happened today. What did DOJ and the AG do, and what do we know for sure right now?

HJ: Totally. And on that point about people being shocked — with the benefit of hindsight, there were some tells. Trump and people around him, last year and occasionally since, would talk specifically about the rescheduling of medical cannabis. He would use the term “medical rescheduling.”

So, with the benefit of hindsight, you could have anticipated a bifurcation between medical and adult use. But to your point, I don’t think anyone really did.

The first thing we know for sure is that the Attorney General’s order indicates that medical cannabis — cannabis sold under state‑licensed medical programs — is now Schedule III.

It’s worth pointing out that the Attorney General, in his tweets, used really imprecise language that confused people. On Twitter/X, Todd Blanche said, “We are rescheduling state‑licensed cannabis,” which some people took to mean adult use. But really, he meant medical. That imprecision definitely contributed to the confusion. His order rescheduled medical cannabis. That’s the first thing we know.

The second thing we know is that there will be legal challenges to this order, including, surely, from SAM. So there’s this debate about what has changed immediately — is it “official”? In one sense, it is official, because they have published a final order on medical cannabis. But it will be challenged in court. Some might argue that it’s not fully settled until it survives those legal challenges.

The other big thing we know is that if medical cannabis survives these legal challenges, state‑licensed medical operators are no longer subject to 280E. If this goes through, medical operators won’t have to pay 280E. That’s clear.

JB: And then there’s this bombshell hint about retroactivity. What’s actually in there on 280E relief going backward?

HJ: Right, so another thing we have hints about is that the Attorney General’s order indicates that retroactive 280E relief could apply for prior tax years.

The language indicates that the Attorney General is encouraging the Treasury Secretary and the IRS to consider making 280E relief retroactive for medical operators.

First, this is really encouraging. It’s the first official government statement that 280E could be retroactive, even if only for medical operators. So that’s significant.

At the same time, this is just the AG encouraging the IRS to do this. The IRS can ignore the AG if it wants to. So it is super encouraging, but we shouldn’t over‑interpret it and assume retroactivity is guaranteed.

If it does come into effect, it gets really interesting. If I’m an operator, there’s no guidance yet — we may see IRS guidance that says, “Okay, it’s retroactive for two years, going back to the HHS [Cole] memo,” or three years, going back to the beginning of the rescheduling process. But until we get that guidance, in theory, this 280E relief could be retroactive for a California operator going back 10–15 years.

That would be amazing. That would be incredible. I’ll believe it when I see it, but it would be incredible.

JB: Before we get to adult-use, I want to hit the other big technical piece you flagged: exports. What, if anything, did this change on that front?

HJ: The order basically creates an expedited DEA registration process for medical licensees. At a very high level, without getting into all the weeds, that might create a pathway for the export of medical cannabis to other countries.

But this is an incredibly complicated topic. If I’m trying to export something to Germany, it needs to meet EU‑GMP requirements. That’s true even if it’s not cannabis — electronics, whatever. So when you add cannabis on top, you’re just adding layers of complexity.

If I’m a betting man, I don’t think meaningful exports are going to happen anytime soon. It’s really complicated. But we’ll see what happens there. It could create that pathway.

JB: And on the domestic side, the AG also put adult-use hearings on the calendar for summer. What’s happening on that track, and what’s the timeline?

HJ: Right now, the Attorney General’s order “reschedules” medical cannabis immediately, on paper. Separately, he has ordered a new DEA hearing to consider the rescheduling of adult‑use cannabis.

The timing of that hearing is that it begins on June 29 and it ends on July 15. So it’ll be at least four months before we know what’s happening with adult‑use cannabis, just based on that hearing and the administrative process that follows.

JB: Big picture: does this create any scenario where adult‑use cannabis just disappears, or is this more about the federal government hanging onto this medical/adult split for as long as it can?

HJ: I would find it hard to see adult-use just “going away.” Over the long term, I do think this distinction will erode, because for all the reasons we know, it doesn’t really make sense. But for now, the federal government is clearly still respecting and responsive to that distinction between medical and adult use.

To your point, though, this order exposes why that distinction doesn’t really make sense. If you’re going to tax adult use and medical differently, does it encourage a bunch of operators to effectively become medical operators? Does it encourage states to radically change their medical programs to make it easier to register?

I think this order forces the issue of the ludicrous distinction between the two categories. So maybe it hastens the day when that distinction collapses. But right now, the federal government still seems to be responding to it.

On timing: a lot of people are asking, “Okay, the hearing ends July 15. When will we know if adult‑use cannabis is rescheduled?” Nobody really knows. But it’s worth noting that people like Kim Rivers and Boris Jordan — well‑placed CEOs — are publicly saying they expect it to happen sometime in Q3, before the end of the year.

Those folks have been wrong before, so that’s not definitive. But it is notable that some of the more connected voices in the space are publicly stating that they expect, within a month or two or three of the hearing concluding, that adult use will be rescheduled. We’ll have to wait and see, but those are some of the best public estimates we have.

JB: The other huge unknown you flagged is whether adult‑use, if rescheduled, would also get retroactive 280E relief. Is there anything in the current order that helps us read that?

HJ: That’s one of the biggest open questions. If adult‑use cannabis is rescheduled, will the AG similarly encourage the Department of the Treasury to make that retroactive?

Nobody really knows. All we have right now is language encouraging retroactivity for medical operators. We’ll have to wait and see if, four months from now, if and when DOJ issues a similar rescheduling move for adult use, they do the same thing on retroactivity.

I’m skeptical that they’ll allow retroactivity for adult‑use operators, but again, we’ll have to wait and see.

JB: Trump himself teased “more to come this summer.” How much weight do you put on that?

HJ: He was asked about this in the Oval Office a couple of hours ago, and he said something to the effect of, “Expect a lot of action on this this summer,” or “There will be more to come this summer.”

I don’t really know what that means specifically, but it suggests they want to get a bunch of stuff done before the midterm elections. That’s speculation, but it’s consistent with the broader political context.

JB: Let’s talk about the nightmare scenario for accountants and license-holders: dual‑license operators. In a place like California, if you hold both a medical and an adult‑use license, how might 280E treatment actually work?

HJ: This is a big, unresolved area. There are a bunch of different opinions.

Some people say 280E applies to the taxpayer. By which they mean: 280E says that if you are a person or a company that is trafficking in Schedule I drugs, then you’re subject to 280E. Under that reading, even if you’re doing both — you hold a medical license and an adult‑use license — because you are still engaged in activity involving a Schedule I substance, your entire operation is subject to 280E.

The analogy I’ve heard is: when you buy merch in a dispensary, the merch itself is not Schedule I, but because the business is engaged in Schedule I activity, you still can’t claim those deductions. It’s a really arcane legal debate, and nobody has a definitive answer yet. But there is at least one serious theory that says holding a dual license won’t allow you to cleanly separate your operations and say, “These things should not be subject to 280E.”

Even beyond that, there are practical issues. One of my clients sells to a bunch of retailers and holds both medical and adult‑use licenses — but they have no control over how the retailers categorize that product. How does that flow through for tax purposes? What does that mean for this company? I don’t think anyone has a clean answer yet, but it’s a very real question.

JB: On interstate commerce — not exports but state‑to‑state movement — does this order move that any closer?

HJ: There’s been a lot of speculation about whether medical states could start engaging in interstate commerce. I’m skeptical that interstate commerce will happen anytime soon. Cannabis is still illegal; moving it across state lines would still be a violation of federal law.

I think it’s much more realistic to expect international exports, on a narrow basis, than to expect California and New Jersey to be doing business with each other anytime soon.

JB: Let me throw hemp into this, possibly from left field. There’s been a lot of well-justified noise about hemp, synthetics, CBD in Medicare, and attempts to fold these markets together. Does any of what happened today actually touch hemp?

HJ: I don’t think so, at least not directly. The order explicitly says hemp is not covered. It reschedules medical cannabis. What is not being rescheduled is adult‑use cannabis and synthetic cannabis. And hemp doesn’t fall under the definition of marijuana.

The straight answer is that hemp, under the 2018 Farm Bill, was defined as not being encompassed within the concept of marijuana.

If you zoom out, we’ve created so many different categories of the cannabis plant: adult‑use cannabis, medical cannabis, hemp, unlicensed cannabis, synthetics. Biologically, it’s all closely related. So, yeah, it’s really incoherent. But I don’t think this order itself tells us much about hemp.

I don’t think today’s move really changes the hemp landscape directly.

JB: Is there anything we haven’t covered that you think is crucial for operators, advocates, or patients to understand right now?

HJ: These are the takeaways:

• Medical is now Schedule III on paper, with real potential 280E relief and even retroactivity — if it survives legal challenge and if Treasury and IRS follow through.

• Adult use has been kicked into a DEA hearing process with a plausible, but not guaranteed, Q3 timeline for action.

• The medical/adult distinction is being hardened on paper even as this move exposes how absurd that distinction is in practice.

• Dual‑license tax treatment, exports, and that DEA “buying and selling” language are some of the biggest practical question marks.

  ---

If you made it this far: Welcome to the very complicated next chapter of cannabis legalization. And thank you, Hirsh, for helping us better understand it.

Hirsh Jain is the CEO of Ananda Strategy, a cannabis-focused business advisory firm that works with cannabis brands, retailers, distributors, testing labs, technology platforms, professional service firms and capital providers in the United States and Canada on matters ranging from competitive licensing, legislative strategy, regulatory intelligence, market expansion, business litigation, strategic communication and other varied corporate initiatives. Hirsh has previously served as Vice Chair of the Cannabis Chamber of Commerce and on the Board of Directors of California NORML. Prior to working in cannabis, Hirsh was the Government Affairs Director at Airbnb in San Francisco. Before that, he worked as an Engagement Manager at McKinsey & Company in New York City. Hirsh has a B.A. from UC Berkeley and a J.D. from Harvard Law School.

One more thing…There’s language in there about the DEA being able to buy and sell cannabis, and I have seen and heard a lot of chatter around it today. This article, which I found online from Foley & Lardner LLP, helped me understand it better.

It’s about satisfying an old international treaty rule that says there has to be a government agency that “buys” all medical cannabis for countries that allow it.

For state‑licensed medical growers that get DEA registration, the rule works like this: Growers set a nominal price for their crop. They keep it in a secure, DEA‑accessible facility. On paper only, DEA “buys” the crop at that price (plus a small fee) and then immediately “resells” it back into the medical supply chain.

In reality, the same companies still grow, hold, and ship the product. The DEA’s “buy and sell” is a paperwork move so the U.S. can say it’s following the treaty, not a sign that the DEA is about to start dealing weed. It does, however, put the DEA in the position of being a market maker; just more of the gatekeeping kind, less the economic player type.

To me, this could be slightly problematic, and I’d love if a knowledgeable reader could weigh in. On paper, this makes DEA the “exclusive buyer” of medical cannabis to satisfy an old UN treaty, even if it’s just a nominal, paperwork transaction. That precariously blurs roles: the same law‑enforcement agency that can raid or prosecute operators is also the mandatory intermediary for their medical crop. It hands DEA a powerful chokepoint over the medical supply chain and further entrenches police, not health agencies, at the center of federal cannabis policy. It remains to be seen what comes from this.

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Like everywhere else in New York these days, Fashion Week in September smelled like weed. At Collina Strada’s Spring/Summer 2026 show on September 11, models vaped as they walked across a heliport at sunset. The Manhattan skyline glowed behind them; the air was thick and warm, and the no-flame rule because of jet fuel turned joints into props that couldn’t be lit. Two days later, at Eckhaus Latta’s show in a converted Lower East Side warehouse, smoke from real joints floated above the runway, catching in the lights and mingling with perfume.

Gotham — the New York cannabis concept store trying to bridge weed, art, and design — was the key to making both moments happen. The collaborations were simple but deliberate: a vape-pocket button-down for Collina Strada, and for Eckhaus Latta, a lighter sheath and joint case. Models used them mid-walk without a wink. Backstage, Gotham’s matte-black bags sat among racks of clothes and Dunkies, just another piece of production.

“Cannabis is intricately linked to fashion as well as most creative and cultural fields,” said Rachel Berks, Gotham’s vice president of product and partnerships. “To bring cannabis to the runway during NYFW simply acknowledges the connection that has long been there.”

Last year, Gotham sent a cheetah-print bong down Eckhaus Latta’s runway and ended up on Vogue’s homepage. “After that, our first thought was, how do we top the bong?” Berks said. “We wanted something that felt real — objects people actually use.”

That shift from spectacle to function says a lot about where cannabis culture is now. Last season’s viral cheetah bong was edgy, defiant, and good PR, but this time, Gotham wanted to make something that would live past the runway. “We’re always on a quest to destigmatize cannabis consumption, which we often do through risk-taking and unconventional collaborations,” Berks told me. “But this year, we wanted the collaboration to move beyond a visual moment. These were things people could actually carry, touch, and use.”

That approach changed how the shows felt. At Collina Strada, the shirt with its discreet vape pocket read less as weed merch, more like clothing that fit the moment — functional, slightly irreverent, and easy to picture on someone off the runway. And though aesthetics were the reigning rule of the day, there were more practical creative considerations, like the venue’s ban on open flames, which forced the pivot from joints to vapes. “It was the right kind of limitation,” Berks said. “It pushed the design toward something people genuinely needed.”

At Eckhaus Latta, the tone was different but just as grounded. Models lit joints mid-walk using the lighter sheath Gotham produced for the show. The joint case slipped into a back pocket like a phone. “Both brands were enthusiastic about putting cannabis on the catwalk,” Berks said. “They knew their audiences would get it. It wasn’t about shock value but honesty.”

Within hours, the pieces were live on Gotham’s website, shot and styled like any other product drop. “We like that our collaborations blur the line between runway and retail,” Berks told me. “They make cannabis visible in the same way fashion is visible — something you see, want, and reach for.”

It worked, I think, because it didn’t try too hard. The smoke, the objects, and the atmosphere all lined up. No one in the audience gasped. The clothes and the cannabis moved together naturally, which might be the point Gotham’s been making all along: that the plant doesn’t need to be explained, just accommodated and treated normally, like anything else.

High fashion is not the first to bridge this gap — streetwear paved this ground long ago. Cookies SF, HUF, Supreme, and Sundae School — brands born from skate and music scenes, many of which were non-white and economically marginalized — gave cannabis a visual language that luxury is still translating into the culture. Their clothes came from daily life, not runways, and that’s the lineage Gotham is tapping into, whether the industry wants to admit it or not.

Elsewhere in fashion, cannabis has already been seeping in. Edie Parker’s Flower line sells ashtrays and pipes that belong beside stemware, and I have written in the past that I have several of the brand’s handbags, which include chic but cheeky weed accessories like retractable metal lighter holsters. Last year, I wrote about a Hemper and beleaguered-but-beloved Los Angeles luxury department store Fred Segal’s bong-and-other-accessories collab. Amitha Raman’s collection and her sharply curated online shop feature sculpture-like pipes inspired by Magritte sketches, brass joint cases meant to stay on coffee tables, marble trays, and more for people with serious taste. Rose Los Angeles and Gossamer built an entire atmosphere out of calm light and good taste; Rose’s latest collab with skincare brand Marie Veronique has resulted in an ultra-luxe oil/lotion emulsion rich in CBD and good for reactive skin. Smoke Show Co. prints tangled botanicals that nod to William Morris more than head-shop kitsch. Roman Alonso of Los Angeles design studio Commune recently described his Psychedelia rug series to me as “referencing altered states without costume.” It’s a good rule of thumb for anyone working with the subject now: design like you understand it, not like you’re borrowing it, and treat it with reverence, curiosity, and awe rather than just viewing it as a cartoon.

Even hemp has settled into itself. When the cut and finish are proper, it’s simply fabric with backbone — a linen fabric I happen to wear a lot of. I also have hemp linen curtains in my home that are durable, soft, and beautiful. Jungmaven is probably my favorite mainstream hemp clothing brand. It’s not high fashion, but is well-designed, aesthetic wook wear (you know, rich hippies, Trustafarians, etc., whatever you think of them — they have a great, specific, and oft-copied look).

Gotham’s stores apply the same logic. They look more like galleries than dispensaries — pared back, slow, meant for conversation. “Since we launched in 2023, we’ve worked to put cannabis, fashion, art, lifestyle, and culture under one roof,” Berks said. The next step brings that mix to events: canna-bars at film festivals and weddings, the kind of spaces where cannabis has always been around but never acknowledged.

On another note, to me, that visibility also only serves to highlight the imbalances just under the veil, so to speak. People are still in prison for the same plant that the runway now aestheticizes. This very letter chronicles the current banning of hemp mere years after it was made legal. And, of course, cannabis is actually not legal at all at the federal level, making the concept of “current legalization” a bit of a farce when you really think about it. Probably, the next step for fashion and cannabis to further integrate is for fashion luminaries and companies to join the fight for smarter legalization alongside their smoking buddies.

What impressed me about the Gotham shows is that they did not set out to create a spectacle, nor did they in the end. They just folded cannabis into the week’s endless carousel of fabrics, faces, and really good light. The smell hung in the air for a moment, then disappeared into the city just like it’s always done.

The Ongoing Hemp Whiplash

Late last night, Nov. 10, the U.S. Senate voted 60–40 to attach a hemp amendment to a spending package that would redefine the crop under federal law — effectively banning most hemp-derived THC and full-spectrum CBD products by the end of 2026. The measure, which President Trump supports, now moves to the House, where a vote could come as soon as Wednesday.

The amendment changes the 2018 Farm Bill’s definition of hemp to include all forms of tetrahydrocannabinol, including THCA, capped at 0.3 percent on a dry-weight basis. It also excludes cannabinoids not naturally produced by the plant or created synthetically, such as delta-8 THC, HHC, and THC-P. The new language would override state laws that currently allow hemp-derived intoxicants, closing what lawmakers have called the “loophole” responsible for the booming $28 billion hemp market. I have written this before, but I personally reject the “loophole” terminology and think now that lawmakers are only walking it back because it’s politically expedient. Everyone knew what was in this law when it was passed; I digress.

Industry leaders warn the move will devastate small businesses and farmers while undoing years of work to destigmatize low-dose and wellness-based cannabis products.

“These low-potency products are more than just products, they’ve created an alternative lifestyle rooted in education, wellness, and community. We’ve spent years teaching responsible, low-dose use and breaking stigma. This ban doesn’t just threaten businesses, it threatens the people, the progress, and the everyday consumers who deserve access to safer, intentional choices,” said Veronika Alfaro, founder of Mi Sota Essence in Minnesota.

“At Mi Sota Essence, our mission has always been to educate and create access for families, parents, and communities seeking wellness and balance through culturally grounded products. This ban doesn’t just erase products, it erases progress, culture, and the healing we’ve built together. We stand firm in our belief that prohibition is not progress. The future of this industry must be led by education, inclusion, and compassion, not fear.”

“Americans from states all across our nation are sending a resounding and unified message to Congress this week: regulate, don’t prohibit hemp products,” said Heather Fazio, director of the Texas Cannabis Policy Center. “It’s especially appalling that this action would be taken on Veterans Day, when we know there are countless service members who are finding significant relief from legal hemp products. We know from their testimony that pharmaceutical drugs prescribed by the VA have caused significant harm to their physical and mental health. Alternatively, hemp products can provide a safer and more effective alternative. Hemp products should most certainly be better regulated — ensuring that we restrict youth access and that marketing of these products doesn’t unreasonably appeal to children. We should move forward with these common-sense regulations, rather than reinstituting prohibition, which causes far more harm than good. Re-criminalizing hemp products would lead to mass incarceration and pull the rug out from underneath entrepreneurs who operate legitimate businesses across the country. We can and should do better.”

“Senator Mitch McConnell, architect of the 2018 Farm Bill, sowed the hemp seeds — and now seeks to scorch the soil, salting the fields of his own harvest,” said Thomas Winstanley, executive vice president and general manager of edibles at Edibles.com (and my college smoking buddy. 100% true story). “Hemp has become a rare bipartisan success story supporting farmers, small businesses, and consumers. Banning these products won’t stop bad actors — it will only drive the market underground and hurt the very people the law was meant to help.”

“This ban isn’t just about intoxicating products; it will negatively impact the CBD industry as well,” said Kurt Kinneman, Wisconsin hemp farmer and owner of Bad Apple Pets, a company that sells CBD pet products. “Even my full-spectrum CBD pet chews, which help so many animals, would be illegal on the federal level. It will put family farmers and small business owners like myself out of work.”

For now, the hemp industry is bracing for a fight in the House and hoping lawmakers choose regulation over another round of prohibition.

Full disclosure, I work for companies that sell or market hemp-derived products, and therefore obviously have a stake in this ban not coming to fruition. Personally, I also think this potential ban will set back the overall cannabis movement for the same reasons several folks here and elsewhere have mentioned. If you feel strongly that this ban is a good thing, agree with the hemp industry, or feel somewhere in between, feel free to hash it out, no pun intended, in the comments.

It’s Veterans’ Day; the fight for better medical care for those who have served in the armed forces and cannabis freedom are inextricably intertwined, and veterans’ advocacy has been key at every step of legalization. I have written about it in the past with respect to PTSD treatment.

Last month, I moderated a panel with Los Angeles councilperson Imelda Padilla and her director of emerging markets, Ruth Aguiar. You can read all about it at High Times; A side note that it is very odd reading about myself, as I did not write the piece, and I’m not used to being on this side of things. I empathize with all of you who appear in the press (well, most of you, LOL).

I have a new video series with Embarc, in which I discuss women’s health and cannabis from the perspectives of recent scientific studies and lived experiences. Meta won’t let me link to it here — I will spare everyone the rant, but surely you can feel my frustration through the airwaves — so you can find it on my Instagram or Embarc’s.

I am newly on the editing staff at Leaf Magazines! I am excited to be a magazine editor once again, working with a team I respect — one that also includes many friends. Check out our just-dropped Harvest Issue (and my column in it).

I teach journalism at San Diego State University, and one of my students this semester, Juan Estrada, wrote about tax arbitrage between San Diego and neighboring city La Mesa for The Daily Aztec, the student paper. The university is blocks from the San Diego-La Mesa city line, and the cannabis sales tax is vastly different in the two municipalities. I asked my student to find out if other student cannabis shoppers were hip to this, and turns out they totally are and avoid San Diego shops due to cost. He also talked to local officials and examined state and local tax policy. On a personal note, it’s thrilling to train budding journalists to analyze topics that may otherwise be just a hobby (like cannabis) and watch the process come alive.

If you’d like to hear more about my university teaching, I discuss it at length in this podcast. It has become one of my favorite parts of my career.

Until next time, thanks for reading Cannabitch!

People say we live online now. Since that seems to be a given, the question is what kind of people that kind of living produces. Reading the Harper’s ethnography on “gooning,” an extreme porn subculture organized almost entirely on Discord, I wasn’t struck by the shock value so much as the structure. The gooners are just an exaggerated version of something familiar: people building whole selves inside digital communities that never really touch the ground. It actually made me think about my own online life, and how much of my world—my work, my friendships, my sense of belonging—exists inside a subculture that popped the same way, even if there is a genuine IRL element. The cannabis space thrives in group chats, Slack channels, Discord servers, and comment sections. It’s not as lurid, obviously, but it runs on the same circuitry: a need for connection that somehow keeps us alone. That, before legalization and algorithms, was something many weed smokers desperately craved, and some still do.

There’s real comfort in making friends online, whatever your particular subculture flavor is. I remember when Twitter became X after Elon Musk bought it; many people left the platform for good, lamenting very emotionally that it had been a very real part of their social lives for many years. Online, you find your people fast. They get your jokes, your taste, your timing. You don’t have to translate yourself. But efficiency is its own filter. Anyone who interrupts your rhythm falls away, and soon it seems like compatibility and connection are the same thing.

That logic runs under almost everything now: dating apps that measure attraction by swipes, group chats that quietly exile someone who stops replying, careers built around a self that photographs well. Friction feels like failure. Yet friction is what keeps us human. It’s what shapes us into human form from an emotional marble block. Without it, we’re outlines—recognizable but with nothing else going on.

Cannabis is where I’ve watched this most closely, mainly because it’s my world. I built my career, community, and daily conversation around the plant. But most of that happens online—writing stories, editing interviews, moving between Instagram DMs and Substack drafts. A culture rooted in touch and smell now lives mostly in text.

I’ve met people I never would have otherwise: farmers, activists, writers who remember when weed was illegal everywhere. Some have become real, lasting friends. We share work, talk policy, gossip, and complain about chaos. It’s a genuine network—just one that rarely occupies the same room. I talk to these people every day, but I’ve met only some in person. And even if I could meet everyone, there are thousands in this extended cannabis orbit. Keeping up beyond the occasional hello would be impossible.

Sometimes I wonder what bringing things online does to a culture built around something as tangible as a plant—one that demands physicality to participate fully. I spend hours writing about cannabis and maybe a few hours a week, if I actually add it up, consuming it. The discourse has outgrown the smoke for me a little. I’m not sure I ever intended for cannabis to become such a big part of my mental and financial life, as much as I love it. Every time I log on, I remember that I made it the center of my algorithm and therefore my brain. Some of that is work; some of it is identity; some of it is just inertia. Weed is the lens I look through to understand everything else—politics, pleasure, community, my own habits. It’s given me many things: a career, journalism experience, IRL and online friends, and countless things I didn’t expect to find. But it’s strange to realize that something I came to for balance has ended up shaping the rhythm of my days.

There’s still a ritual in it. With others, it becomes a small ceremony: grinding, rolling, the first flame, a pause while the cherry steadies. A joint changes hands, and the mood shifts. Someone coughs. Someone loses the story and starts again. No one’s producing anything. There’s nothing to post about. That forced slowness reshapes the room. Alone, it’s different. I set a pace, notice my breath, taste the flower through the inhale, let the mind wander without opening a tab. If I’m paying attention, it’s a reset, not an escape. These are the moments that remind me why the plant mattered in the first place—because it slows time back down.

The industry moves in the opposite direction. We’re back in person, which is good in a simple way—being around bodies is good—but the big shows and brand parties feel like a different kind of ritual: badges, agendas, soft-launch friendships. People mean well. People are mostly nice. People also sell. A lot of what used to be joy has turned into content or deal flow. You can feel the market vibrating under the handshake. Even the best of these events—thousands attending, booths stretching for halls—carry the polite strain of commerce first, culture second. Still, they’re useful. Often fun. Also fraught. The U.S. cannabis market is valued at about $38 billion, employing more than 440,000 people, and it shows; everything hums with capital now. And then there are the zillion online recaps—photo, video, written. Maybe you missed out, maybe you didn’t, but the algorithm makes sure you think about it either way. The smoke becomes spectacle; the ritual becomes a feed.

Maybe that’s what’s happening everywhere pleasure once demanded proximity. You had to be there to experience it. Now you can substitute participation with commentary: talk about sex without having any, argue about food without eating, build a weed identity without lighting up. It’s all recognizable, just one degree removed.

I don’t think the internet made us lonely; I think it made us particular. We found people who scratched our most specific itches and stayed there. But the more precisely we curate our circles, the less room we leave for the irregular connection that makes life communal. Designing for compatibility kills novelty.

Maybe what makes it hardest to come back to real life isn’t isolation but atrophy. The small muscles we use to hold up our days have gone soft. We’ve forgotten how to argue in real time, how to read a room instead of a timeline, how to sit with boredom long enough for it to turn into curiosity. The internet has trained us to expect everything to be legible, immediate, smooth, and fun. Real life is still slow, unsearchable, untagged. You can’t scroll past a misunderstanding or mute the sound of someone chewing. You can’t close a conversation that isn’t going your way when you’re stuck in an elevator with a chatty stranger.

That loss of friction deprives us of the raw materials that make life feel lived: novelty, struggle, curiosity, disappointment, pride. The effort that gives joy its edge. Online, friction becomes annoyance; intimacy becomes repetition. The feed provides the illusion of contact without the risk of closeness. Technology binds us into new, uneasy intimacies—group chats that can feel like friend groups or Roman coliseums, depending on the vibe; parasocial relationships that feel one-sidedly deep; digital arguments that outlast friendships. They ask nothing of us except attention and give back only the sense that we’re never alone, just overstimulated.

Coming back to the unedited pace of the physical world feels strange, even punishing. A dull conversation feels unbearable when the rest of life refreshes at 60 frames per second. Excitement dulls when everything is instantly available. Disappointment feels intolerable when the feed offers endless replacements. Reality moves at the wrong tempo now.

In a 2023 national survey, about 30 percent of U.S. adults reported feeling lonely at least once a week, and about 10 percent reported feeling lonely every day. The U.S. Surgeon General declared loneliness a public-health concern that same year. It’s not proof of causation, but it’s the backdrop for the world we’re building. The anthropologist Robin Dunbar once said humans top out at about 150 meaningful relationships. Researchers now think that number is lower—not because we’re busier, but because we’re less tolerant of difference. Each connection requires patience and a willingness to misunderstand and try again. Online removes that need. Someone irritates you? You mute them, then move on. The absence of friction feels clean until it becomes sterile.

It shows up everywhere. We choose delivery over dinners, DMs over drinks, bed over bars. Scrolling and typing. People call it laziness; it feels more like recalibration. We want connection without the unpredictable mess of other people. We want to be known, but only for the parts that are easy to maintain. When I think about what gets lost, I keep circling back to those small inefficiencies: waiting for someone to show up, smelling their food, disagreeing and having to keep talking, lending something and forgetting to get it back, hearing someone say something off and pausing to react. Those things give relationships texture and durability. They also help us grow, mature, and become better caregivers to one another.

Weed socializing reminds me of that. Passing a joint forces cooperation: one person lights, another waits, another inhales too long, someone else (probably me) doesn’t shut the fuck up while waving the joint around like a magic wand. Someone wipes the mouthpiece or drops it on the floor. It’s slow. Slightly gross. You have to be there for it. You have to chill. That’s what makes it work.

Online, even the best of these communities unintentionally skip that step. My feed is full of people I admire. We make things together, trade stories, share information. But it’s frictionless—no awkward silences, no shared air. The group chats reflect a cliquishness that exists in real life; it’s not new. And while it’s nice to have a built-in echo chamber—and in vice communities that’s often necessary for solidarity—relying on that online version of community feels like a bad habit. It’s easier to stay where everyone gets me than to engage with the world that doesn’t.

I’m not completely nostalgic for a world before screens, though I sometimes think about it. I just want to understand what this trade-off is doing to us—how the pursuit of ease keeps shrinking our capacity for everything that isn’t. The smoother things get, the less tolerance I have for friction—for surprise, frustration, or the plain, awkward weight of other people. That doesn’t feel like progress.

The cannabis community, the internet, maybe modern life itself: we’ve sanded ourselves into compatibility. It’s pleasant. It’s also a little lonely. I can feel how easily I lose patience for the bumps and grinds that used to define ordinary days. And yet those were the parts that built muscle—the problem-solving, the novelty, the small humiliations that taught you something about yourself. Without them, everything flattens into preference, and preference makes you passive.

I have a full life outside of weed—many circles of friends, a large part of my journalism career, routines, a rhythm that sometimes has nothing to do with work or cannabis. But the online space, especially, has become a kind of refuge, even if I don’t want or need most of my socializing to take place there. It’s where I’m able to be fluent about this topic that now takes up so much space in my life—where the language comes easily, where people understand what I mean without me having to explain. The internet amplifies that comfort until it feels like a second home, and sometimes it swells to fill more of my life than the rest.

What if I wasn’t constantly thinking about weed—the industry, the culture, the news? What if I wasn’t being fed information about it all the time? I wonder if I would still feel misunderstood elsewhere. If I could connect more, or try to. I suspect I would. None of this is any one community’s fault. It’s what happens when a space that’s supposed to be grounding becomes boundless.

I’m not advocating for a total screen purge, though I think mitigation is necessary. I’m not trying to diminish or disparage the place of cannabis in my life—just examine it. I want to feel less managed by the things that make life easy. To remember that difficulty isn’t the enemy, but the texture. To be in social spaces where nobody owes anyone anything but time together. Maybe the work is to stay inside that texture a little longer, even when it’s inconvenient, and trust that something real still grows there.

We all need to touch grass more. At least I know I do—and more so, I need to do so outside the confines of my career. I’ve allowed the internet to blend my life into one amorphous whole, and I’m realizing I feel most comfortable online. Ironically, I think I’m not alone. That comfort is dangerous; it flattens resilience.

When I smoke with someone in person, I remember what connection feels like when it resists convenience. There’s heat and saliva and noise. There’s a pause while the joint moves between hands. The moment hangs. It doesn’t scale. It’s not productive. But it is real. That’s as good a place to start as any.

When Kansas-based glass artist Rachel McDuffie couldn’t find a bong she liked, she made one from an antique bottle. Five years later, her company, Bird & Mouse Glass, has become an internet fixture and a socially conscious mix of craft, cannabis, and Grandma core. We talked about running a weed-adjacent business in a prohibition state, the push-pull between online life and real life, and how to survive the algorithm with a drill in your hand.

Unfortunately, because her account is age-gated, Substack will not let me embed it nor link to it! That last one is a new restriction for me. Had not noticed it before. Here is her alt account: https://www.instagram.com/birdandmouseglass2.0/

Jackie Bryant: For people who don’t know you, who are you and what do you do?

Rachel McDuffie: I’m the owner of Bird & Mouse Glass. I like to tell people it’s what would happen if Martha Stewart, MacGyver, and Willie Nelson passed a blunt and then Martha said, “Let’s make something.” I take antiques—your grandma’s glass, thrift-store finds—and turn them into bongs.

JB: How did that start?

RM: I’d quit smoking for a while. When I started again, I wanted something nice for the new house—a house-warming piece. I went to the head shop here in Kansas, and it was all Rick and Morty and Simpsons bongs. Nothing pretty. Online, I saw a retro-looking bong I loved but couldn’t afford, so I went to an antique store, found a similar bottle, and wondered, “Can I drill this?” I researched on Reddit, figured it out, made one, and thought maybe other people would like them too. I posted, and somehow people found me.

JB: When did it feel like it was taking off?

RM: Weirdly, right away. I went viral on Reddit with a video of me drilling a bottle. People were curious and started following me on Instagram. My very first customer was from Oklahoma and still reposts everything I make. It’s been almost five years.

JB: Why do you think people connect with you?

RM: Honestly? Because I run my mouth. laughs I talk about politics, stigma, community—so people know exactly what they’re getting. Some leave, but the ones who stay really stay. It’s become this corner of the internet where we all get each other.

JB: How does that translate offline?

RM: At first I was scared. My dad was a cop who raided marijuana fields. I was kicked out of my family for three years over weed. Once I started feeling safer online, that confidence carried over. I could say, “Yeah, I’m a stoner—and I’m also a mom who pays the bills with this work.” The people who buy my pieces donate to local causes. We do good things. It helps chip away at the Midwest stigma.

JB: What’s it like running a cannabis-adjacent business in Kansas?

RM: Tricky. There are cities that have decriminalized, but you still can’t legally buy weed here. I try to keep things close to the chest, but Bird & Mouse Glass has made me visible in a way I didn’t expect.

JB: You built your following online. How does that affect business now?

RM: The algorithm’s brutal. When I had about 4,000 followers, I sold pieces like crazy. Then a video with my grandma went viral—I gained 10,000 followers overnight and sold out for months. But now? I have a big audience, and sometimes only a few hundred people see a reel. Cannabis content gets throttled. People accuse me of buying followers, but it’s just Instagram burying weed. You have to ride the waves—low tides and high tides.

JB: How are you keeping it working?

RM: I’ve leaned into things the algorithm can’t quite flag. People are nosy—they love handwritten notes. So I post pictures of notes and letters alongside my glass. Those go farther than videos of bongs. I also wholesale to a shop in Colorado and want to start lamp-working so I can make stems and bowls that match my antiques. I’m obsessed with reusing materials. I hate the idea of making more plastic waste.

JB: Are you doing any digital marketing, like email or SEO?

RM: I wish. I barely have time to photograph and post. Being a person is already a full-time job, and then you have to make the thing and make the content. I’d love to hire someone for SEO or a newsletter, because we all know an account can disappear overnight.

How to order: Find birdandmouseglass on Instagram. Then:

I’ve published and worked on a lot of things, but I think this newsletter is long enough already, and I just wanted to write today. I’ll do a link round-up next week, plus more interviews, book previews, and stories about things like fashion week collabs coming your way. Thanks for reading Cannabitch!

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Last week, I was riding shotgun in a pick-up truck, cruising east on California State Route 36. We were somewhere west of Dinsmore and Mad River, heading east, and the freshly risen sun hung in the sky, streaming through the conifers and oaks towering over the winding two-lane highway. It was already approaching 80 degrees by 8 AM. We were headed to a cannabis farm, one of many hidden in this rural stretch of Humboldt County, far up in the hills from any redwood forests.

It had been about three years since my last visit to anywhere in the Emerald Triangle. Cliché as the scene may be, at some point during that drive, with the hot, dry wind whipping through my still-damp-from-the-shower hair and my ass already getting a little swampy in the car seat, I remember thinking, “I’m back.”

Whatever that means, it’s true. A lot happened in those three years! I got remarried and had a baby, who is now a happy little towhead who just started pre-school. I was the managing editor of a regional print magazine, cruise directing the printing of over 24 issues. I started teaching college (“Are you sure about that?” I remember asking when they asked me if I wanted to). I won several awards, started a few podcasts, sold some partnerships, produced videos, jumped into brand and content work, and did many other things.

I kept toes in the weed world, of course, while doing all of this, and so once I decided to leave my job at San Diego Magazine this past July, I was able to pick up work quickly. Some journalism-related, some weed-industry-related, some content strategy and copywriting work, too. I am now in a new phase of life and work, which involves being a polyglot freelance media person who is writing, reporting, creating content & strategy, writing my first book, teaching journalism and social media, and, of course, balancing being a mom, wife, and all the rest. The truth is, I have always been professionally polyamorous, and I just had to bust out on my own once again. So here I am!

Things are good, but I really don’t want to talk about the mechanics of work! I felt I had to explain my absence from this newsletter.

Let’s move on: I went back to Humboldt last week. I find it telling that, just a month or so out from leaving my job, I was already back on the 5 barrelling north in my Mini Cooper, on a 12-hour-long one-way solo mission to the Redwoods. The goal was to interview farmers for a forthcoming print feature in High Times (yes, it is apparently printing once again) and log some content for future brand projects. I linked up with Scott Vasterling from Humboldt Family Farms and photographer Ryan Johnson Bitar along the way.

Specifically, I wanted to talk to legacy sun-grown cannabis farmers who are hanging on now that the Green Rush is long gone and legalization has turned into more of a bureaucratic chokehold than a golden ticket. What is life like, and how is it all going?

The fact is, even though wholesale prices have plummeted and, to put it mildly, paperwork is expensive and overwhelming, the weed up north is still some of the best in the world. These farmers are still farming—sometimes by the skin of their teeth—and they’ve also become something else: civic leaders, farmers’ market fixtures, water commissioners. Many balance their cannabis farming businesses with growing and selling fruits and vegetables. Some have joined co-packaging, branding, and distribution companies, like Humboldt Family Farms. Others, of course, have closed up shop and worse. The Green Rush chaos is gone, but the culture has stabilized as the post-Prop 64 economy has undergone sharp consolidation.

That normalization has altered the standing of these families in their communities. As Amy Neukom of Neukom Family Farm told me: “By the time our daughter graduated, the same parents who wouldn’t socialize with us were telling their kids, ‘Only smoke the Neukoms’ stuff.’ They knew it was clean.”

Nik Erickson of Full Moon Farms has seen the same shift, explaining that there used to be tension between growers and townspeople; people thought they were ruining the town. Now it’s different, and people are more civically engaged back-and forth. There’s weed farmers on the water board, for example.

But acceptance hasn’t necessarily made survival easier. As Dylan Mattole of Mattole Valley Sungrown summed it up, at some point, the paperwork started to outweigh the plant. It’s an uphill battle the farmers are still fighting.

To me, those three perspectives capture cannabis in the Emerald Triangle in 2025: culturally important, civically integrated, and still economically strangled. The weed is still world-class. The farmers are still here. Whether the market lets them stay that way is another story.

So yeah. The hills are quieter, the speculators are long gone, and the trucks on State Route 299 are more likely hauling lumber than weed, which is a sharp turnaround from recent decades. But the cannabis is still there, and it still tastes like California to me. More to come.

DOS NOUN IS HOME!

This week Daniel Muessig was released from federal prison. Altogether, he spent 1,200 days in federal custody for nonviolent cannabis-only trafficking charges for his operations in Pennsylvania. He served this time as Pennsylvania’s legal markets proliferated.

I’m grateful we kept in touch and hit me up once he was released and back online on the outside. Also known as Dos Noun, he and his words have appeared here many times: In this dispatch in which he details well-meaning prison reform campaigns that fall short on providing actual help, in this piece where he discusses the federal clemency process (or lack thereof), and also this one where he describes the drug scene inside federal prison.

This morning, while I was writing this letter, I texted to ask if he had anything he’d like to share with you. He does:

On 8/21, 2025 I walked out of federal prison and into a new world. Even though I had been gone for 3 years, mere weeks in federal time, my world and yours had changed in monumental ways.

COVID ended. The AI era has begun.

Massive restructuring of the economy looms.

Nothing feels solid or certain.

Everything feels overpriced and out of reach.

I sat in the car with my childhood best friend as the highway flew past at light speed.

My thoughts a discordant jumble.

I hadn't seen my wife in over two years and I had never seen my daughter.

The highway blurred into the familiar and my breathing became staccato.

My neighborhood. The colors and shapes. The people. All the time lost.

I walked up a street in the hot breeze of late summer afternoon.

I turned a corner. And saw a little girl with blue eyes and a beauty that arrested my heart.

I walked up to her while she played on the porch next to my wife and heard nothing but the blood in my veins.

I steadied myself not to cry.

I had endured sentencings and beatings. Stabbings and lockdowns. The hell of transit. The hatred of captors who stared at suffering with bovine indifference or gleeful malice.

None of that mattered now as my wife said.

"It's daddy.'

I spoke and my voice cracked.

"Hello. I'm your dad."

She looked at me with caution and curiosity.

"I love you."

In awe....

"You're so small small and you big at the same time."

Nothing is good yet. So much has changed. But I survived. And now my only mission is to feed and love my wife and my daughter.

I don't know what the future is. But I know that the industry needs people like myself. And I am not alone.

Thursday was my final day. 1700 more people passed another night behind a wall. Away from life. Away from all.

I don't ask in anger. I stand on my principles as a man who didn't tell. And I fight for my family.

There must be a place for us.

Nothing will ever bring back what was lost.

But maybe there is a future. For the sake of that little girl on the porch who held the universe in her hands. I have to believe that.

If you want to talk to Daniel about employment in the cannabis industry (he’d make an excellent consultant, with his law degree and practice and all), you can email him here: Lettersfromnoun@gmail.com

On normalizing “chronic” use…

One of the brands I'm working for on copy and content is Miss Grass. Here’s an excerpt from a recent thought piece I wrote for MG’s blog about stigma, habitual use, and how our collective perceptions of regular consumption are changing:

“Cannabis is still medicine, and its therapeutic potential continues to expand. But its role is increasingly personal. People use it to feel grounded, to soften the effects of overstimulation, to turn inward, or to transition between parts of their day. It’s become something people live alongside, folded into ordinary routines.

And when someone reaches for weed to unwind after a long day, to manage social fatigue, or to re-enter their body after a jarring work meeting—can’t that be considered medicinal, too? If cannabis helps someone focus through spiraling thoughts, or fall asleep when nothing else works, the lines between wellness and treatment, between casual and clinical, blur. The idea that only certain kinds of use qualify as valid does a disservice to the full spectrum of why people turn to the plant.”

****

“This isn’t a radical shift so much as a long-overdue recognition. People—especially women, queer folks, neurodivergent individuals, and those navigating trauma or chronic illness—have been using cannabis this way for years, many figuring they were “addicted” and having no other medical or social framework for their use. Legal access didn’t start this relationship, but instead gave it language, safety, and new paradigms of exploration, healing, and understanding.”

****

“Cannabis use is also common in neurodivergent communities, where traditional therapies and treatments are often inaccessible or incomplete. Adults with ADHD and autism report using it to regulate sensory input, support transitions, and calm overwhelm. Some say it helps them tune into themselves without tuning everything else out. While research is still developing, the lived experience is already well-documented, and it’s shaping how people view cannabis not as a one-size-fits-all solution but as an adaptive tool.”

****

Read the entire “From Stigma to Better Understanding” post here.

Last month I also made an appearance in LA, which truthfully does not happen very often, to support my friend Jon Cappetta and his inaugural Off-Hours Social club dinner series. Tickets weren’t cheap, but the room was stacked with good people from all segments of cannabis culture and solid food. The next one is in NYC on September 21, and it appears all the booking happens through this Instagram account. I won’t be there, but many people who can do a lot more for you and your bottom line in the cannabis industry than I can will likely be. I recommend it if shaking hands with culturemakers is interesting to you.

I’ve got a new monthly column in Leaf Magazines nationwide. Pick one up the next time you’re at the dispo.

I got a press hit from the other side?! I helped frame the launch of this Miss Grass video campaign for social, blog, media, etc. Read about our heady, art-forward video edibles video campaign in AdWeek and at GreenState.

Much more to come, and I’m sure there’s a lot that I missed. Until next time! xoxo JB (Cannabitch)

'Tis the season—the final days of an American presidency, when criminal justice advocates and opponents alike scramble after years of hurry-up-and-wait. It’s clemency season, but so far, neither Biden’s latest round of pardons nor his behavior has offered much relief for cannabis prisoners.

I have reported on the pardon process before, most notably during the final days of the last Trump presidency in 2021. Luke Scarmazzo, then imprisoned on a 22-year sentence for operating a state-legal medical dispensary in California, was notified he would be included in the batch of pardons to be granted on Trump’s way out. Scarmazzo, his family, lawyers and advocates, me, and many others sat glued to our phones for several days, waiting for the news to come down and for him to be released. Right before Biden was scheduled to be inaugurated–I’m talking mere hours before–we were all notified that Scarmazzo’s petition had been denied. I wrote about what happened–as much as we could figure out—and the article crested over a million clicks.

By reporting that piece and its surprising outcome, I got a deeper look into the clemency and pardon process than I ever expected. It’s opaque, fickle, and laden with special interests and handshakes. In addition, several long-time clemency activists have told me that the clock on each prisoner and their relationship or lack thereof with White House Counsel resets every new term or administration, according to whoever is in power and whatever other political factors dictate the day. Federal prisoners can only gain an early release through this process. The activists within the web work tirelessly, often for decades, in unclear, uphill, unfair, and sometimes unending battles. I’m comfortable saying it’s one of the most disheartening peeks into the machine I’ve gotten, but it’s an aspect of cannabis culture that we cannot look away from. (Scarmazzo was released in 2023 on compassionate grounds after serving 14 years. We “met” for the first time on camera for my old podcast, along with his advocate, Weldon Angelos, whose pardon I also covered).

Daniel Muessig, aka Dos-Noun, is nearing the end of his federal prison term and isn’t optimistic about the clemency process. He wanted to share about it and what comes next for Cannabitch’s readers. He is a celebrated freestyle rapper, criminal defense attorney, and former cannabis entrepreneur who ran what was widely considered Western Pennsylvania’s largest legacy cannabis business. For six years, his invite-only dispensary in Pittsburgh’s East End was a cornerstone of the local scene. Known for sharp branding and bold business tactics, he also built a wholesale distribution network. In 2019, an FBI raid ended his operations, and after refusing to cooperate with authorities, he received a five-year federal sentence.

Set for release later this year, Muessig doesn’t expect a pardon but is focused on life after prison. So often, the cannabis community focuses on getting out and less on what comes next. Here, Muessig shares his thoughts on the specter of pardons and lets us know how we can meaningfully help cannabis prisoners, especially once they are out: getting them gainfully employed in the industry in which they have expertise.

On Pardons

by

As Biden’s presidency winds down, America’s patchwork of ethnicities, constituencies, and interests waits for his final acts, bracing for that uniquely American cocktail of hope and resignation. Ukraine remains protected for now, electric vehicles are saved, trans children are left out in the legal cold, student loan debtors are screwed, Angelenos remain homeless, Greenland edges closer to apparent invasion if the news is to be believed, and the government shutdown has been averted—temporarily.

Meanwhile, an ever-shrinking group still dares to ask: Will Biden commute the sentences of federal cannabis prisoners? Not that promises mean much to a politician. He’s made these commitments repeatedly, particularly when courting cannabis consumer votes, spinning his way from center-right to center stage during the primaries. Promises like these fade fast when weighed against political convenience.

It also doesn’t matter that he’s pardoned his own son for firearms violations and financial missteps—American royalty operates by a different standard, a fact Biden has made abundantly clear. Nor does it matter that the vast majority of Americans, including those few who even realize people are still incarcerated for cannabis at the federal level, would support releasing those prisoners immediately. For decades, the federal government has been an unyielding, imperial entity at home and abroad, with its prosecutorial might immune to questions or critique. Biden, at his core, remains an octogenarian drug warrior, and any moments of apparent evolution on this issue have been little more than a calculated ploy.

To date, Biden has commuted the sentences of roughly ten federal cannabis prisoners—a drop in the ocean of over 1,700 still incarcerated. These rare commutations trickled out over the past four years and represent a negligible fraction of the overall drug-related incarcerations under his administration. In place of action, his administration has excelled at spreading disinformation to pacify voters.

Take the headlines trumpeting Biden’s change of heart about cannabis prisoners a few years back. Those headlines and the resulting reporting were largely wildly inaccurate. In truth, Biden only pardoned individuals with federal cannabis possession charges, primarily minor offenses from decades ago in Washington, D.C., where federal jurisdiction applies. None of these people served time. Dealers and growers—those who bore the brunt of prohibition—were left to rot in prison. Yet Biden claimed credit for wiping out the charges of a few smokers who got busted in national parks as a huge win for progress overall.

Or consider the recent claims that Biden "freed 1,500 federal prisoners." In reality, these prisoners had already been released years earlier under the CARES Act, living under strict conditions with ankle monitors. Biden’s contribution was confirming they wouldn’t be sent back to prison—a threat he had kept alive throughout his presidency. He merely snipped the strings he had held over them and called it mercy.

From the vantage point of someone living through this, I can attest that these narratives are just smoke and mirrors. I am one of the 1,700 federal prisoners still incarcerated for a first-time, non-violent, cannabis-only conspiracy. My crime is trafficking large amounts of cannabis. Despite my clean record and professional background—I was an attorney before this odyssey began—I still encounter disbelief when I explain my conviction. Even other prisoners struggle to believe anyone is still locked up for cannabis in 2025.

For those of us inside, the clemency process is a brutal, dehumanizing spectacle. We must act as our own press agents, crafting compelling narratives with photos and media assets to catch the attention of organizations and donors. Without a polished story to shop around, we are ignored and forgotten; our cases lost to obscurity. The system is designed to reduce us to contestants in a grotesque reality show where content determines our worthiness for freedom.

Freedom remains elusive even for those of us who manage to navigate this labyrinth. I recently learned that my clemency application was approved by the Office of the Pardon Attorney, a hurdle most never clear. Yet I remain in prison because the White House Counsel refuses to recommend the release of certain cannabis offenders without further elaborating. Biden has pardoned meth and heroin dealers, but cannabis? That’s a step too far. Protecting his legacy as a drug warrior takes precedence over delivering justice at the eleventh hour.

As I write this, I have no hope left. My life has been shattered, and I’ve spent years being taunted by the mirage of freedom. Even after I wrote my own clemency petition and saw it succeed, it has amounted to nothing. Last week, I turned 43, and I woke up in this violent, decaying hellhole, wishing I’d never been born.

Prison destroys more than just time. It leaves you unable to trust anyone and robs you of joy. The government that put me here created this nightmare, not the organizations trying to free me or the corporations profiting from legalization. But these groups, despite their good intentions, cannot overcome the systemic barriers that keep us locked away. Their efforts, though laudable, are hamstrung by a system designed to ensure we never go home and, if we do, that we will be back.

I don’t know what action to ask for. Letters, tweets, and petitions won’t change the fact that I’ll never hold my daughter on the day she was born or rebuild my life to where it was prior. All I can do is ask for a chance—once I am free this year—for a job that lets me support my family without returning to the world that brought me here.

Please contact me if you would like to be in touch with Daniel Muessig regarding work opportunities in and around the cannabis industry.

News from around the canna-sphere:

ICYMI: I published a list of resources relating to the LA fires

This ongoing news is getting uglier by the day: “DEA Judge Cancels Marijuana Rescheduling Hearings Amid Legal Challenges, Pushing Back Reform For At Least Three Months” and “Marijuana rescheduling judge blasts DEA for ‘unprecedented, astonishing’ behavior” and “Marijuana rescheduling process paused indefinitely after judge cancels hearing”

San Diego is getting its first cannabis café. Sessions by the Bay will open in February and will be a 12-room immersive art lounge-style space with full restaurant service and a consumption-free rooftop and bayfront seating area. We also had the co-owner and chef on the Happy Half Hour podcast, which I co-host. I also talked about it on the latest episode of Puff Puff Press and on air at CBS 8.

California’s Department of Cannabis Control has released a “Recall Portal.” As a vibey woman, I cannot resist any kind of portal, doubly as a reporting woman. “DCC is excited to announce the launch of the new Cannabis Recall Portal, offering an improved user interface, enhanced search functionality, and a more visual experience to help you quickly access recall information. Consumers can easily track recalled products and stay informed.”

“Customer Data of Cannabis Brand Stiiizy Exposed in Data Breach.” Sigh.

“Cannabis debt crisis looms as billions of loans come due in 2026.” This is something I have been salivating over reading about as a former credit analyst, and I was pleased to see this report by Chris Roberts at MJBizDaily, who, as always, does a bang-up job breaking it down. Basically, $3 billion in debt is set to mature by the end of 2026, and the impending wave of maturities could lead to substantial restructuring within the regulated market. Some analysts think companies have time to strategize favorable refinancing options. However, external factors, like looming federal or state reforms that could open new markets or streamline operations, will play a crucial role in how this plays out. In an industry with limited access to traditional capital funding and a heavy reliance on debt financing, it’s tough news on top of all the rest.

“THC overdose” lands dispensary in legal trouble.” A Portland man took "start low, go slow" as a challenge, downing a capful of THC syrup and landing in the ER. Now, he's suing the dispensary for $10,000, proving sometimes the real trip is the legal process. Reddit went nuts on the guy.

Also interesting from the team at GreenState: a look at Cannabis Induced Psychosis and who is at risk, as well as a review of Señorita agave-sweetened, THC-infused margaritas.

Nebraska’s medical cannabis saga just got juicier: opponents of the voter-approved initiative are suing the Nebraska Medical Cannabis Board and multiple state agencies. They’re pushing to overturn the law that created the state’s medical cannabis industry, claiming its existence violates state and federal rules.

Bloomberg investigates so-called “cannabis cocktails” with an eye toward the product segment’s headwinds. Those include inconsistent regulations across states, restrictions on interstate commerce, and advertising limitations. Producers must navigate a patchwork of compliance rules. At the same time, federal prohibition adds uncertainty to market expansion and competition with traditional alcohol brands, and the need for consumer education about dosing and its effects presents further hurdles. You know, I don’t even prefer drinks in my cannabis routine, but this conversation is becoming intellectually grating, however fascinating it is from a nerdy policy perspective. I want drinks to succeed on principle and triumph over this bullshit red tape.

This headline at NPR cracks me up. “Despite strict laws, Texas is awash in intoxicating cannabis.” DESPITE. From the piece: “Today, Texas has more than 7,000 cannabis dispensaries, almost twice as many as California. Add to that: 24-hour cannabis delivery, mobile pot trucks, cannabis vending machines, and mail-order cannabis.” Lol. Sounds amazing. Of course, they are talking about “intoxicating hemp.” Everyone knows that making things illegal makes them go away entirely and totally, once and for all, so I am not sure why anyone is surprised ;)

And here’s some industry gossip to send you away with: a tipster messaged me last night, saying they spotted beleaguered former Florida Congressman and cannabis industry activist and businessman Matt Gaetz at a local San Diego dispensary. Word on the street is he’s here working on his new show at One America News, the right-wing news channel based in town. I can confirm the news, though I can’t say how, as it would reveal my source. Lol.

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At this time, the biggest fires in Los Angeles are barely contained, and it’s heartbreaking to behold. Many readers are undoubtedly impacted, so I’ll get to the point: scroll down for links to resources and information about FEMA claims. For those who want to help, I have plenty of links for you, too.

These fires are a brutal reminder that no part of California—especially Southern California—is truly safe, that climate change has been here, and that we, as a species, will continue to be forced to reckon with how we exist in nature. That our sense of security is perhaps an illusion is something all Californians fret about. The late scholar and activist Mike Davis warned about our looming threats in his famous 1995 essay, “The Case for Letting Malibu Burn.” He died recently, and his prescient writing feels especially haunting now as I watched his wife, Alessandra, an artist who lives in San Diego, share memories on Instagram this week of her childhood in Pacific Palisades—a place now incinerated, including her first mural, painted at Pali High. What once felt like a distant possibility has become an unrelenting reality, and the threats are both obvious and not.

Just under a year ago, San Diego endured historic and devastating flooding, and many in the city are still displaced without an end in sight. Resource hoarding and government mismanagement also greatly exacerbated the flood's misery. And, of course, we know we could burn, too, at any moment. We are living through a natural referendum on our lives, which is terrifying and also a call to action.

It’s dehumanizing to witness such devastation and feel powerless to stop it. As a social species, we’re wired to want to help. I’ve compiled a few resources to help our Los Angeles friends who are in need, especially considering it’s one of the epicenters of the cannabis industry. Many readers are affected, and I am sure many further afield will be thrilled to help. We love you, LA!

San Diego Magazine, the magazine I work for, has compiled an exhaustive list of ways San Diegans can help, including food donations and pet fostering. KPBS also has a list.

Over 70+ San Diego-area hotel properties are offering free or discounted lodging. The San Diego Tourism Authority has compiled a list.

Here is the LA Times’ free and discounted resource list for those affected, which is continually updated.

This is a running list of mutual aid resources from Mutual Aid LA (which also has volunteer opportunities for those who are able). The group also shared resources on how to connect with local groups helping people affected by the fires. You can also donate directly to the group.

You can find volunteer opportunities to help Altadena families here, and you can give financial support to Black families here.

GoFundMe has activated its centralized and verified hub for all LA fire-related GoFundMe pages. GoFundMe.org also started a 2025 Wildfire Relief Fund that will go “go directly to people impacted who are seeking help through GoFundMe fund-raisers, and to nonprofit organizations on the ground providing relief.”

Direct Relief, a nonprofit humanitarian organization that hands out free N95 respirators and other essential items in Los Angeles, is accepting donations. Wildfire smoke can cause adverse health effects 50 to 100 miles from the flames, even in communities that can’t see or smell the smoke.

The Los Angeles Fire Department Foundation distributes critical equipment and supplies to Los Angeles Fire Department workers, such as hydration backpacks and emergency fire shelters.

California Fire Foundation works with local fire agencies and organizations to provide immediate and ongoing financial assistance to people impacted by the fires, including firefighters and their families.

The Los Angeles Regional Food Bank accepts financial donations and essential items to help people affected by the fires. It also accepts volunteers. A list of needed items can be found here.

LA-based accessories website (and friends of the newsletter) Best Friend’s House is collecting donations for fire victims. They can coordinate drop-offs and pick-ups in the Los Angeles area or Long Beach and have access to discounted shipping rates they are willing to offer for people sending care boxes from outside the region. Please DM @shopbestieshouse on Instagram to coordinate!

I have also copied this press release from FEMA. Hopefully you’ll never need it, but if you do, remember that you have this information in your email.

Five Things to Know About FEMA, Federal and Nonprofit Support to the California Wildfires Response

As state, local and federal responders continue efforts to save lives, homes and public property in the areas affected by the wildfires, residents should remain vigilant as conditions are still dangerous and severely degraded air quality in Los Angeles county poses a threat to residents. Follow instructions from local officials and evacuate immediately if told to do so.

Los Angeles County residents can apply for FEMA assistance

FEMA understands that you may not have all of your personal documents with you or that they may have been lost in the fires. To apply for assistance, you only need:

• Names of everyone living in your home at the time of the fires.

• Social Security number (yours or your child’s).

• Household income.

• Contact information.

• Information of property damage/emergency needs.

If you have insurance, you should file a claim as soon as possible. FEMA assistance is available to help jumpstart your recovery if you have uninsured or underinsured damage. If insurance does not cover all your damage, FEMA may provide additional help. There are three ways to apply:

• Online at DisasterAssistance.gov and in Spanish language at DisasterAssistance.gov/es.

• Calling the FEMA Helpline at 1-800-621-3362 for assistance in multiple languages.

• On the FEMA App for mobile devices.

To view an accessible video about how to apply visit: FEMA Accessible: Registering for Individual Assistance - YouTube.

Applying for FEMA assistance is a process

After applying for assistance, you will receive a letter from FEMA by mail or email and you can find it on your DisasterAssistance.gov account, based on the preference you indicated when you applied. The letter will explain whether FEMA has found you eligible for assistance, how much and how the assistance must be used.

In some cases, you may receive a letter stating you are “not approved” for help from FEMA. While this may seem like a denial, you may still be eligible for FEMA assistance. Oftentimes, survivors are “not approved” because FEMA needs additional information to make a determination. The letter will explain the reason for the initial decision. Read the letter carefully. The fastest way to submit additional documents is to upload to your disaster assistance account at DisasterAssistance.gov.

State and local governments may receive 100% reimbursement for emergency work

President Biden approved the 100% cost share for Public Assistance Categories A and B for 180 days. This means that FEMA will fund 100% of the cost of debris removal and lifesaving and life sustaining activities the state and local governments take—including fire suppression efforts —as they work to save lives.

The assistance FEMA provides through its Public Assistance Program is subject to a federal cost share, normally 75%, which means that FEMA provides funding for a portion of the project and the state, territory, local government or nonprofit is responsible for the remaining portion.

For debris removal and emergency protective measures specifically, the federal cost share may be increased in limited circumstances, and for limited periods of time, as with the California wildfires and a number of other major disasters.

Disaster response is a whole of government effort

The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services declared a public health emergency for California, providing health care providers and suppliers greater flexibility to meet emergency health needs of Medicare and Medicaid beneficiaries.

The U.S. Department of Defense is providing firefighting personnel and capabilities as well as Navy helicopters with water delivery buckets to assist with aerial fire suppression.

Anyone feeling overwhelmed or in distress because of the fires can call or text the Disaster Distress Helpline 24/7 at 1-800-985-5990 to receive free crisis counseling.

State and nonprofit partners like the American Red Cross and others are providing a safe place to stay, meals and emotional comfort to people. To find a shelter, text SHELTER and your ZIP code to 43362, visit redcross.org/shelter or call 1-800-RED-CROSS (1-800-733-2767). You can also call this number if you need assistance locating a missing loved one because of the fires.

People can help affected communities recover

Financial contributions to recognized disaster relief organizations are the fastest, most flexible and most effective method of donating. Organizations on the ground know what items and quantities are needed, often buy in bulk with discounts and, if possible, purchase through businesses local to the disaster, which supports economic recovery.

People can connect with trusted organizations operating in the affected area to know where volunteers are needed.

IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION ON MORE RESOURCES OR NEED EYES ON SOMETHING, DROP IT IN THE COMMENTS!

I’m writing from my first vacation in over two years that isn’t medical or childcare-related! I have no plans other than kicking out a newsletter–at least one—and enjoying the SoCal winter weather as our tourists do.

I get as reflective as everyone else does at the end of the year, probably also because my birthday is the Winter Solstice. And also because I am a huge pothead, the kind in the rotation who holds the joint until I’m finished telling my story (I am sorry).

As everyone else begins a new year, so do I, as far as bodily rotations around the sun are concerned. As they have been, this year was not easy at all, but I haven’t ever been able to say a year has been outright bad or good because that’s just not how life works. Not even the year when I got divorced from my ex-husband while relying on a full-time freelance journalism income, not the year when I had a baby, and my actual, current husband was laid off six weeks later, sending my ass back to work after my leave in need of a more highly monetized career path, since we are both journalists. We live in the decline of media jobs and monetization and can no longer play sacrificial lamb to our editorial egos. That’s partly how I ended up on the business side of San Diego Magazine this year, ideating and selling our agency media work, which, long-term is likely to pay more than editorial work. He pivoted to journalism academia.

I haven’t been able to properly mourn stepping out of traditional journalism production as my day job to create and sell branded media, probably because I actually really like my new gig, and also, I’m a working mom. Time is limited. I remind myself that I still have Cannabitch, I’m a co-host of two podcasts (one food- and one weed-related guest spot), I still have my book proposal and my agent, I still have whatever it is I put on various social media platforms. I have become a cannabis news talking head. I didn’t expect that last career pivot—at least not so soon in the historical timeline of legal cannabis—but it’s come for me in the form of emceeing, guest hosting, and commenting in newscasts and articles. It keeps me visible in the cannabis universe and requires me to stay updated on current events, so I’m grateful.

I have no idea what’s in store for 2025, honestly. I am in the fire hose phase of life, which I have chosen to accept. Keeping Cannabitch alive, after my day job and my family, is always at the top of the list. I’ll teach a social media and reporting class at San Diego State University next semester. I’ve got a cannabis feature printing in the February issue of SDM, the potential to publish more regular cannabis journalism at SDM, and a lot of video work coming down the pike. Like, I’m helping to produce a few big video series right now. I bought a video camera this year. I sold sponsorships, brought on clients. I can write voiceover scripts, coach on-camera subjects, and edit video. I couldn’t say that a year ago. So things are good, if different.

As someone who has always been entrepreneurial and ambitious and has felt I have had a lot to prove, I’m overwhelmed by what I see as opportunity in media’s ashes. There are many lanes to take, strategies to try, and platforms to become familiar with. I don’t have time to test everything, especially in the self-publishing realm, but I’m intrigued and I’m here, and I guess next year will be yet another exercise in intuitively throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. Part of that process means making peace with what inevitably takes a back seat so that other things can shine—in 2024, video replaced writing for me, which feels a bit like I lost a limb, but I can also feel the stub of a new one taking shape. I’m trying not to judge it. Maybe I will become a video documentarian. I ask myself, “Remember when you were a completely unpublished writer?” Crazier things have happened.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but this is an “incredibly pivotal time in the history of cannabis.” For Cannabitch, I intend to continue watching, taking notes, and dissecting legalization as the process continues. Specifically, I am interested in how rescheduling will affect consumption habits and access and how that will change the culture again. Expect more videos, guest writers, and cultural dissection, which includes business and politics. This space is different than others in cannabis: it will never be one of those news digests that will keep you minute-by-minute informed on the breakneck cannabis news cycle, nor is it one that strives to capture something hot on the news cycle unless it also sparks my interest. At this stage in Cannabitch, it’s clear that everyone here is so because they seem to value my take on things and what and who I choose to bring to your attention. That’s always what I’ve been best at, much as I also love reporting, and it’s what has made me a good culture writer, editor, and media strategist. So that’s what I’ll continue to do.

I will also most definitely be smoking cannabis, of course, and will share with you as I always do what I come across. Thank you for sticking with me all these years—it will be five years for the newsletter this May. Eight since the column began! Since cannabis years are like dog years, that is now 56 years. Incredible.

A Christmas Present That Does Not Actually Have Anything to Do with Christmas; Makes Great Anthropological Gift Year-Round

Okay, this is not the best example of the quality video work I’ve been producing, but it does show genuine stoke, and I made it entirely on the fly and on my phone. Dina Nagib of Grass Goddess Consulting, who also lives in San Diego, snagged a couple of the highly coveted 12 Jays of Christmas boxes to distribute down here in No Man’s Land, where the legal cannabis distribution networks seem to reach us much less than they do other parts of California. I’d seen videos of the box circulating on social media and figured it was one thing I’d have to live without until Dina texted me on my birthday last week to ask if she could drop one off.

This box contains a small snippet of the life’s work of some of my favorite small family farms from the Emerald Triangle: Emerald Spirit Botanicals in Mendocino, who are known for unique cultivars expressing non-THC cannabinoids and rarer terpenes; Moon Made Farms from Southern Humboldt, helmed by the great Tina Gordon; Arcanna Flowers, which is another Mendo farm that’s part of the Mendocino Generations cohort, and run by growers who ask you to text them the effects after smoking so they can dial in their pheno hunts; and That Good Good Farm, which is not a farm I was familiar with before the box. It’s an off-grid, solar-powered, living-soil-based family farm in the Anderson Valley that hand-trims its flower, and its contribution to the box is a Cap Junky x Permanent marker doink that is gassy, rubbery, and oily in all the right ways. It’s fucking beautiful. These are pre-rolls worth buying. I am now desperate to get my hands on some of the farm’s “True OG.”

Also in the box: Headbanded from Trinity County’s Sol Spirit Farm (where you can book a real, actual cannabis farm glamping vacation!), which blends 80% of one of my all-time favorite smokers with Sour Diesel and Element; a white labeled Whitethorn Rose, which has become one of the patron strains of Humboldt County, I think (It’s been fun to see the Huckleberry Hill Farms-created cultivar pop up more in hash, too); beautiful Sour D’s and Green Crack.

Rarely are pre-rolls worth it, but this collection boasts twelve made with more whole flower than not, unique cultivars not often seen in indoor industrial cannabis, and a lot of heart from deep Northern California, a historic cannabis-producing region struggling mightily under legalization. If you aren’t able to regularly sample these growers’ wares, this is a good way to try. It’s apparently available at dispensaries across LA and Northern California. I am told you could reach out to anyone involved on socials to finagle some kind of exchange maybe. Who am I to say? That’s just what I heard. Happy hunting!

Blazing Trails: How Cannabis Ignites the Creative Spark

So often, we are bombarded with the trope of the lazy stoner. It’s a culture war classic, and if the bloviation at the top of this letter is any proof, it is a label with which I do not identify. It’s also one weed enthusiasts play into: The Dude in The Big Lebowski. Kelso from That ’70s Show. Thurgood Jenkins in Half Baked. Jay and Silent Bob, the entire movie How High. Even Shaggy in Scooby-Doo! Lovable foils whom we all support despite their apparent flaws, all of which seem to be related to cannabis. Wait, what!? Do you see what I mean?

Earlier this year, fellow San Diego writer, podcaster, and all-around media person with a naturally apropos name, Adam Greenfield, asked me to be a guest on his podcast, The Written Scene. We smoked and talked about process and creativity, and you can hear us grappling with changing media in real time. He wanted to know if weed was part of my creative toolkit—as someone with diagnosed ADHD, I actually believe that, yes, cannabis does help me harness creative thoughts, which is anecdotal and subjective.

There have been studies done on this exact topic: the NIH says, as a result of this study, that cannabis with low potency does not have any impact on creativity, while highly potent cannabis impairs divergent thinking. The study quotes Steve Jobs, who once said, “The best way I could describe the effect of the marijuana and hashish is that it would make me relaxed and creative.” I believe significant THC impairment would quash divergent thinking, seeing as I am neurodivergent and use it for that purpose. I also think the key to why people feel more creative after using cannabis might be in that “relaxed” state Jobs found himself, which may mean that an absence of stress allows creative thought to flow.

I asked Adam if he would share his experience with weed and creativity here. As the NIH study claimed, “The concept of creativity is not very well defined, and there is no agreement on one particular measure how to assess it.”

By Adam Greenfield

I can still remember when I wrote my first short story. I was eleven years old. The story, Katrina’s Surprise, was a murder mystery involving a detective, an attractive but mysterious client, and a Rolodex. Yes, a Rolodex. That’s how long ago this was.

The story is expectedly atrocious: poor character development, terrible pacing, and cliche descriptions. But it was my first story, and I distinctly remember the feeling throughout the entire writing process: bliss. I created a world of people and places, all the problems the people had, and the solutions to those problems, all out of thin air. It was the first time I realized how much joy storytelling added to my life, which, at the time, was falling apart around me.

I still have the story. It’s how I know it’s so bad.

Four years after penning Katrina’s Surprise, on a warm, humid Maryland autumn night, I took my first puff of weed, probably after removing the significant amount of seeds and stems weed had back then. By this time, I had already dipped my toes in the murky pool of poetry and was finding comfort and relief in its therapeutic nature. With poetry, I could express myself; with stories, I could have fun.

I couldn’t tell you if I went home and wrote after smoking weed. Again, this was way back in the Rolodex days. And besides, I’m not even sure I can tell you what I had for dinner last week. Surely I did write while high, but I don’t remember the act of writing. What I can tell you is I became a much more prolific writer after I became a weed smoker.

In 2015, I published a book of poetry, Regarding the Monkey, through a small press here in San Diego called Puna Press, run by author and artist Ted Washington. During that process, I went through over twenty years of poetry to find candidates for potential print, and I had plenty of publications that I wanted to publish. Some of what I handed over to my editor, Kara Goldfarb, came from a three-year stage of life when I worked overnights at a gas station and wrote poetry on the blank insides of empty cigarette cartons. I still have those, too.

I had consumed a lot of marijuana leading up to that day with my publisher and editor. For nearly 20 years, I was an almost daily smoker with patches of sobriety mixed in for a tolerance reset or known drug tests for jobs.

My writing habit was also a daily endeavor. I was proud of some of it, but I hoped the rest would never see the light of day. But I’d often wonder during those writing and editing sessions if I thought it was good or bad because I was high or if it was actually good or bad. Of the many Grateful Dead shows I’ve been to since the early ‘90s, one of my favorites was when I was sober. Also, out of the many Grateful Dead shows I’ve been to since the early ‘90s, one of my favorites was when I was pretty high.

I’d eventually come to realize in my early 40s that it’s not about weed making me a better or worse writer. It’s about what weed does for my artistic process, and it’s a lot.

My favorite strain is Green Crack. Really, I love any good sativa. I won’t get into the science of it all, but every effect this particular strain is listed to have- focus, happiness, and creativity- is shockingly evident when I smoke it. And while the happiness result is always welcomed, the focus and creative effects have more of an impact on both my writing and my day overall.

I am currently involved in numerous creative projects, both paid and volunteer. It’s rewarding and fulfilling, yet it’s also not great for someone who is easily distracted by hummingbirds outside my window or if the grapes in the fridge are still good or, oh, I don’t know, how the hell I’m going to afford next year’s rent increase. Each morning, I wake up, and it’s like my brain has been trying to figure things out for the last hour, and the rest of me has just arrived at the party. I spend the next hour doing my morning routine, all while my mind is playing handball with thoughts against the inside of my skull.

But then, with a few tokes of whatever sativa I may have on hand, my brain zips into focus, and the thoughts bouncing around come to rest in what I’d describe as a police lineup. Each one says their line, and I know who the first task victim is.

The same thing happens with my writing. Perhaps the plot has turned into the Pandora music app and wandered off, or maybe a line in a poem that will unlock the rest just isn’t coming. Countless times, I have reached for my one-hitter, packed it with enough to get my thoughts in order, and within ten minutes, the attention scope has narrowed its focus, and I’m back in the swing of things.

The creative aspect of this strain and most other sativas of this strength is another valuable tool for my writing. I have often used it when brainstorming story ideas, outlines, or characters. Sometimes, I’m just looking for a particular word for a poem. A few hits, and it’s like a window opens and reveals what I need.

I think it’s also important to point out that this doesn’t always work, nor do I rely on it. At least not as much as when I was younger. I’m also keenly aware of not getting disappointed when whatever writing magic I hoped would happen after smoking doesn’t happen. In the grand scheme of creative things, I still believe that art happens when it happens. Yes, there are ways to nudge things, but as artsy-fartsy as it sounds, it really is true.

So the question is, does weed make me a better writer? That depends on when you asked me in my life. To be clear, though, the answer I had from my teens and into my early 40’s— an emphatic yes— was very wrong. Weed allowed me to write more, making me a better writer.

Adam Greenfield, who also drinks wine, is a San Diego-based author and poet, a regional editor for the San Diego Poetry Annual, and a podcast producer. His book of poetry, Regarding the Monkey, was published in 2015 through Puna Press, and his podcast, The Written Scene, discusses the path and craft of writing with writers and artists of all kinds.

Listen to my episode of The Written Scene here.

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My opening remarks as emcee at the Benzinga Cannabis Capital Conference in Chicago, October 2024

I’ve been struggling to publish lately for a few reasons: I have a very intense job and an 18-month-old at home, and I am also still dealing with postpartum mental health issues. Thanks for hanging with me.

But if I am being honest, I’ve also struggled with how to write about weed the last couple of months. I didn’t want to talk about it in the context of the election; I’ve become weary of electoral politicking in cannabis, however relevant it always is as an illegal substance. I didn’t have much to say other than, sure, it’s a big deal both mainstream presidential candidates were in favor of legalizing cannabis one way or another. Cool. That’s over now, and nothing has changed, nor is it likely to in any way that resulted from or is related to any of the last months’ discourse. In hindsight, I’m glad I resisted the urge to contribute when I didn’t have much to say. Something we can all learn from, I think, especially in media.

I’m also quietly watching the current rescheduling rigmarole. Of course, for good reasons, it was the topic du jour at the Benzinga Chicago conference this past October. That’s an investors’ conference, and however the federal government goes, so will their portfolios. You can hear my opening remarks at the top of this letter in the video.

I share the sentiment echoed by cannabis professionals over and over on stage and in quiet conversations at the Marriott Downtown Magnificent Mile: I don’t think re-scheduling cannabis to Schedule III is going to be good for more than a handful of actors, and it could affect company liquidity and state licensing schemes in ways that are unpredictable as of yet, since it would call into question adult-use markets that would have distinct medical carve-outs as a result of re-scheduling, among other things. Those are accounting, fundraising, legislative, legal, and operational nightmares. We need many more concrete answers from the federal government before we can meaningfully talk about any possibilities or problems.

And as much as I do very much care about these things and have parsed them for years in my writing and currently do as a talking head on podcasts, in articles, and at conferences, lately, I have been more enjoying cannabis for what it actually is than the outsized place it’s come to occupy in my life: a plant I like to smoke that makes me feel good. I have had less energy to consider the rest, and it’s been nice to have an opportunity to just, like, be a normal weed consumer for a little bit and take in everything going on around me.

But I’ve kept my toes in formality, too, as always—whatever that means in weedland. In August, I helped judge Jimi Devine and HighRise’s Transbay Challenge flower competition in San Diego and the San Diego Farmers Cup 710 competition. Moon Valley won the former. For the latter, we had to test thirty-something samples of various rosins, resins, and other kinds of hash, including six hash holes! It was intense, but I assembled a tasting crew at my house, took rigorous notes, and crowned a tropical tasting winner, which was not licensed.

Can I be honest about the flower competitions I’ve judged and sampled this year? Some entrants appeared to rush drying and curing, which was a bummer. Wet weed results in rough smoke that doesn’t grind properly. I think this is an industry-wide issue.

In September I joined my friends Sara Payan, Brit Smith, Rachelle Gordon, and Ellen Holland in launching the Puff Puff Press podcast, where we five cannabis media women discuss all things weed. I'll be yapping with them twice monthly, and I hope you’ll tune in.

In October, I flew to Chicago to emcee the Benzinga Cannabis Capital Conference, at which I made it one day on stage. It was a blast, and it was really nice to lead a crowd and see so many people I’ve only met online or who live elsewhere in the country, so I don’t see them often. The second day, I was down and out due to lingering complications from having had my gallbladder out a few years ago. It’s a long story, and not one I care to repeat here, but for those of you who saw me on Day 1 only to notice I disappeared on Day 2, that’s why. If you want to hear candid takeaways from the conference, Todd Harrison’s newsletter is the place to be.

One question I have for cannabis industry folks about events and conferences: how the hell do all of you go to so many? It seems that, at any given moment, there are at least five “must-attend” cannabis industry events happening. I know I’m not the only one who is utterly confused about how everyone finds the time and the energy, but I watch you all from my backyard bong perch in awe and slight horror. I salute you, but I also hope you’re all taking care of yourselves.

Cannabis and healthy aging: Does it help or hurt?

Did you know older Americans are embracing cannabis at the fastest rates in the country? According to a December 2023 study published in Cannabis and Cannabinoid Research by a team from the University of Michigan Institute for Healthcare Policy and Innovation, Americans aged 50-80 use cannabis now more than before the pandemic, with 12 percent saying they’ve consumed a THC-containing substance in the past year and 4 percent saying they do so multiple times a week.

And, according to a 2022 federal survey of more than 2,000 individuals, eight percent of people 65 and older reported having used cannabis in the past year—a rate that has doubled in the last seven years. In the slightly younger 60-64 bracket, more than half reported using cannabis. These statistics make their cohort the most cannabis-curious in the United States, eclipsing that of even teenage Americans.

This groundbreaking study was also conducted in 2020. Read more about what neuroscientists and gerontologists are saying about healthy aging with cannabis here.

Product report from the wild: St. Ides High Tea

Sometimes, I feel limited in only offering my perspective on some products because I have particular ways I like to consume cannabis, and I certainly prefer some methods to others. For example, I’m more-or-less on record as a drinks skeptic, and I do think part of my reluctance to care about them stems from the fact that they don’t have utility in my weed routine. That’s a limiting perspective!

A dear friend of mine who is not connected to the weed industry at all, bless her soul, has some tea to share, quite literally. She’s a custy, but a knowledgeable one who consumes daily.

“Idk if you’ve had these,” she texted me the other day, referring to St. Ides Wild Raspberry cannabis-infused High Tea, which clocks in at 100 milligrams. “It’s my new fave thing. Hits in like 20 mins or so, I buy in the next town over, so it’s cheaper. I just buy three every couple of weeks and keep them in my fridge. I have a little chug before bed, and it’s delightful.”

My friend has never been into cannabis drinks—she smokes and regularly takes edibles. I asked, why switch, how did it change your routine?

She answered that she “doesn’t taste the weed. Some gummies that hit taste awful, plus this hits way quicker. 15-20 minutes, versus an hour and a half.” While fast-acting edibles are widely available on the market, this fact interests me. She’s an intelligent person who regularly inspects packaging and shops at dispensaries. The drink’s packaging spoke to her; the marketing for edibles with the same fast-acting absorption did not. And, even as a regular consumer used to the taste of weed, she still can’t get over the funky taste some gummies have (which, to me, unfortunately, means the better quality edibles on the market with more plant material than distillate oil).

She added that she has cut back on smoking because of the teas, and the high doesn’t last as long, she noticed, but since she uses the tea to help her fall asleep, she doesn’t mind. “I’ll still smoke for sure, but if the tea is on offer at dispensaries, I’d rather put money on the tea over edibles,” she said, adding that it cost around $10 for the can. She likes being able to “take little sips” throughout the night or “chug” it, depending on what kind of day she’s had. “The edibles that are the same price taste horrible.”

From Pharma to Farms: One industry consultant’s journey to plant medicines

by Dina Nagib

Life is full of ironies. Take my experience working in pharmaceuticals and my transition to the cannabis industry: When I worked in a pharmaceuticals lab, which functioned as the dispensary for the company, I held the DEA controlled substance license, all the while being a closeted cannabis consumer.

The lab I worked for researched several diseases, focusing on pain, neurodegeneration, and cystic fibrosis (CF) targets. As our research progressed on CF, we found small-molecule drugs for specific phenotypes (the presentation of a person’s genetics) that work in various combinations based on the patient's genotype (genetics). At the time, this was a relatively new concept called personalized medicine, where researchers tailored the therapeutic method to the patient for specific disease factors.

We had a Schedule II DEA controlled substance license, which meant that we couldn’t use THC, CBD, or other cannabinoids for our research. But even if we could have, that may only have led to synthetic cannabinoids or cannabinoid-like small-molecule therapeutics. 

Fast forward, and here I am, living out loud in the cannabis industry, embracing its potential for truly personalized medicine. Imagine this: breeding cannabis plants tailored to an individual’s needs rather than concocting everything in a lab. Don’t get me wrong—there’s room for both. But let’s not lose the magic of the plant.

Take cannabigerol, or CBG, for example—the “mother of all cannabinoids.” It’s the compound from which all others are derived, and its potential feels limitless. I first encountered CBG about two years ago when I started hearing whispers about its anti-inflammatory and anxiety-relieving properties. Naturally, I tried it myself—gummies during a bout of gut distress. Spoiler: I had appendicitis, so the gummies weren’t exactly a cure. But the experience wasn’t unbearable, and afterward, I decided to make CBG part of my daily routine.

Six months earlier, I’d been diagnosed with Graves’ disease, an autoimmune thyroid disorder. After a rollercoaster of pharmaceutical treatments, my thyroid normalized—without meds. Coincidence? Maybe. However, the only consistent change was a daily RSO tablet of CBG. My doctors are aware, supportive, and encouraged by my clean bill of health.

CBG hasn’t just helped physically. I’ve noticed its calming effects on my anxiety, especially paired with THC in gummies. And the science backs it up: a recent double-anonymized, placebo-controlled study found CBG reduced anxiety and stress and improved memory—all without psychoactive effects. Other studies have shown that it might boost appetite, too.

The appetite angle is fascinating. Cannabis has long been used to stimulate appetite for chemo and HIV/AIDS patients, but not everyone wants to get high. It could be game-changing if CBG can deliver those benefits without the buzz.

Here’s my advice: Know your sources. Opt for high-quality, whole-plant products. And find a doctor who’s open to cannabis. Personalized medicine is about figuring out what works for you. For me, CBG has been transformative. For you? The answer is out there; hopefully, this inspires you to try and find it if you need it.

Dina founded Grass Goddess Consulting and works with dispensaries to implement the right software and analytics to grow their businesses. After 15 years in the pharmaceutical and biotech industries, Dina applied her knowledge and expertise to the rapidly expanding cannabis industry. She wants to ensure dispensaries maintain the high quality required to propel their success. She's passionate about the plant, the science, and creating a socially equitable industry.

Iconic Seed Collab Alert!

San Diego-based Brothers Grimm Seeds just released a hash collab with the cult-famous late-90 Canadian mockumentary series Trailer Park Boys, a program I enjoyed over many a bong sesh while studying hard at Connecticut College in the early aughts.

Created in collaboration with Hemptown Naturals and breeder Rick Campanella, also known as MrSoul, the crew introduced a brand-new strain called Ricky's Hash Plant. It’s available in seed packs containing nine feminized photoperiod seeds per pack. It pulls from coveted genetics: Genius, Puck, and Airborne G13, the latter of which Campanella has lovingly ushered along for 30 years. This is a washer with high resin-producing capabilities.

Listen to Campanella talk about how TPB commissioned and worked with him and Brothers Grimm, resulting in the unique collaboration cultivar:

ADVERTISING OPPORTUNITY

San Diego Magazine, the esteemed 76-year-old publication where I work, is running a cannabis advertising package against a cannabis editorial feature in the February issue. There's a required print component with other digital add-ons, including podcast. I'll be helping to make most of the media for it. Email me at jackieb@sdmag.com and I'll connect you to one of our sales reps, who can share pricing and information about our readership and distribution across multimedia channels. Payment and assets are due in December for February print and multimedia rollout.

Upcoming in Cannabitch is another gift guide with Clare Sausen from (check out last year’s), writing from other contributors, and essays I have been working on, including one on criminalization and working in the industry and one on maternal mental health and cannabis. Thanks for reading!

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One of my favorite edibles brands is back! Italy-themed Mammamia, which also ships hemp-derived edibles nationwide, just introduced its newer line for California’s licensed market.

Started by chef Simone D’Antonio, a Salerno-born, French-trained cook who moved to California and began experimenting with edibles in his home kitchen, the current collection includes three different flavors of gummies and, incredible, infused Catholic communion wafers. I shit you not. Both the lapsed and faithful will recognize the likeness of the Pope, Francis.

“Rome, as you know, is the city of the Vatican, home of the Church, so we created something a bit more controversial…the Communion wafers,” D’Antonio told me. “The idea is to create a healthy version of a party drug. It’s sprayed with Lemon Haze and THCV [oil] with vanilla, mango, and guava.” I have to say, honestly, it doesn’t taste great, but, as a cradle Catholic educated in parochial schools, I fucking love them regardless.

The edibles are creatively flavored and reminiscent of a sunny afternoon spent enjoying aperitivo in Milano, something else that speaks deeply to me as I used to run food tours in Milano and the surrounding lakes. “You know that our whole vision is the culinary journey of Italy,” D’Antonio says. “Take an Italian city, take a recipe from that city and try to recreate the vibe. The Milano gummies are inspired from the ‘Milano da bere’ campaign in the ‘90s.”

D’Antonio’s talking about an ad campaign for Amari, a category of bittersweet liqueurs traditionally sipped before dinner, like Campari or Aperol. He explains the history of aperitivo in Milan, the city that invented the tradition of sipping Amari-based cocktails while eating small, salty bites provided free by bars. It’s similar to tapas or pintxos cultures in Spain, and it’s, in my opinion, the pinnacle of socializing in Italy. Walk around any street in Milan around what Americans know to be happy hour time, and bars will overflow with impeccably dressed Milanese people clinking bright red glasses and nibbling on delicious small dishes, like rice balls.

Mammamia’s Milano gummies are intended to take you from day to night: kiwi bellini is made with kiwi juice and Prosecco flavoring; orange spritz has orange juice with Campari and Prosecco flavoring; and chamomile bitter (which includes CBN) uses lemon juice and chamomile flavoring. “Milano is the only non-stop city of Italy, the NYC of Italy, “D’Antonio says. “So we’ve created three products to go through your day.” They taste delicious, honestly–like Sugarfina gummies with 10 milligrams of THC.

Recently, I got to try a rolling paper brand that’s stylish and cheeky without going overboard: Vienero. It was founded in 2021 by Taylor Adami, who, like Amitha in the last newsletter and others who developed pretty collections before her, wanted something fashionable and usable. She uses vegan, plant-based dyes and unbleached hemp paper for Vienero’s cones but also makes lighters, ashtrays, candles, grinders, and matches.

I’m not normally a pink gal, but I like these. I usually like anything with devil imagery, just being honest. Adami says the line is “designed to keep you looking good a smoking better. Made for your inner angel, and the little devil on your shoulder.”

Here’s a little little soul and brain food, too. I recently found and ordered The Yerba Oracle by Joanna L. Robles from Etsy. It’s an austere collection of oracle cards with different cultivars depicted with gorgeous bud photography. At the bottom is the author’s interpretation of what that particular cultivar emulates. I pulled the Mother’s Milk card, which Robles writes represents fertility, motherhood, children, growth, and expansion.

Can confirm. I’ve been trying to spend as much non-work time as possible lately at home with my family and it’s been indeed expansive, which is I’m sure the opposite of what most people would expect. After a lifetime spent caring mostly just for myself, it’s a challenge and a gift to be able to shift into caring for our son.

Every time I take out my fancy brass joint case, I get comments. “Wow, that’s pretty,” someone usually says (or some permutation thereof). “That looks like it could hurt me” (it could, if I threw it). And, just as often, “Where’d you get that?”

It’s from Amitha, an online shop for luxury cannabis accessories. New York-based entrepreneur Amitha Raman started it last year. Her specialty is in product development, following a career in various product development and creative and corporate innovation roles at many big-name tech and commerce companies. She also nurtures a fierce personal love for fine art and happens to love cannabis.

On the phone last winter, Amitha told me that she didn’t find much that excited or inspired her in the cannabis accessories space. I’ve heard this a lot, especially from women, and I’ve said it myself. She especially longed for something that spoke to classical and fine art, to truly high design in all its permutations. In other words, not something cute. Beautiful. As she says, “Something to display next to your Eames lounger.”

“Smoking is a ritual. How you do it becomes your ritual,” Amitha says. She believes there’s something sacred in that, and it should be supported by matching aesthetics—the ritual itself becomes an art form in that case. Intellectually, I feel the same way, though I use plenty of ugly but functional accessories every day. Lately, whatever’s cleanest and within reach.

But I’ve also written lovingly about joint rolling and about the heartbreak of busting beloved pieces; I’ve lamented the loss of ritual in our smoking and social lives post-Covid and how much it damages the culture overall. I think the ritual of smoking weed is indeed sacred–anything where altered states are involved is–and I love how it plays out in different places among different people. I also think there’s another kind of aesthetic pride in using tough-looking, uber-functional “dude”-oriented smoking accessories: it signals I fit in, even though I’m a woman, however fucked up it is to think that way.

Not someone to be satisfied with dualities, I know there’s room for more, so I’ll pair my Mendo Mulcher with a pipe inspired by Rene Magritte. As the great poet Walt Whitman, who was from my hometown, once said, “I contain multitudes.” So do we all. We can all live this ritual in our own quirky ways and pick up new yarns as we go along. As a bonus, sometimes I prefer to make mine slightly more beautiful.

To become living art, Amitha designed a line of accessories for her eponymous online store and sells accessories from other brands that she has personally curated.

The Judd Storage Box can double as a jewelry or keepsake box or be the nicest stash box you’ve ever owned. Its minimalist linear design takes inspiration from the geometric sculptures of artist Donald Judd. The box is heavy, wood-based, and finished in brass or silver with a moveable divider. It also pairs with the stunning Judd Joint Case and Judd Poker.

The Serra Ashtray, made of Nero Marquina marble with a silver lid, is an almost brutalist sculptural piece that can also be used as a ring dish, key holder, or incense burner without the lid.

A pipe in two colors doubles as sculptural art, what Amitha calls “a playful ode to René Magritte’s ‘The Treachery of Images.’” It was designed by LA-based glass artist Sibelle Yüksek exclusively for Amitha’s line. The curved glass sculpture rests in a brass or silver glass base when not in use and enables users to take a strong pull, even more so when filled with water. I keep one of each, paired together, on our bedroom dresser as a functional work of art.

One thing Amitha didn’t skimp on that sets her brand apart is high-quality materials–something I find glaringly lacking in other accessories brands claiming luxury status. One of the most stunning pieces in her collection is the Serra rolling tray, which is made with Verde Guatemala marble and a brass or silver insert, which can also be used separately. The marble piece is intended to be a centerpiece and easily doubles as a tray for non-smoking accessories since it doesn’t have grooves for grinders or joints, nor are there any other smoking-specific nooks and crannies.

My favorites, and I think the most usable for every day, are the brass Asawa joint and lighter cases. Oh, the lore they carry! Martha Stewart owns them; Snoop Dogg gifted them to her (along with the Serra trays and Judd case). I also own them, carry them everywhere, and receive compliments on them 100% of the time. I figure it’s one of Amitha’s most popular products because it’s relatively affordable compared to some of the others and exceptionally useful.

Don’t carry the brass lighter case or joint case in your carry-on because it may set off the TSA (silver will not). When I was flying out of San Diego one morning, an agent plucked out my bag, pulled out my beautiful case, and opened it, revealing at least 12 joints. I remember my face burning bright red and thinking about all the cameras on me at that moment. “Idiot,” I thought.

While the agent inspected in full view of the other passengers a few inches away from us, a fat whiff of ganja wafting through the federally controlled air, a nice woman beside me blurted out, “Wow, that case is so beautiful. Is it for…” and I glared at her so hard, so effectively, she immediately shut up.

“Yeah, it’s for cigarettes!” I said, all sing-songy, snapping into Karen mode and flashing a giant, toothy grin. Then I shot her a final incredulous look, a la Kramer in Seinfeld, intended to say, “Dude, be cool!”

The agent looked at me, looked back down at the open case filled with joints, closed it, put it back in my bag, and sent me on my way. Lesson learned: Brass cases will be in the checked luggage now.

This is only a peek at some of Amitha's accessories in her shop–she is consistently designing and curating more for the collection over time. She’s also getting into events: this past spring, she held a Hudson Valley dinner party inspired by Salvador Dali’s famous Surrealist dinner parties with Blooming Hill Farm, take-home ceramic ear sculptures by Dustin Barzell of Ceramicism, and a whole bunch of CBD and THC-laced cocktails by Pleasure Plants and flower from my friends at Supernaturals (who, completely coincidentally, provided the joints seen in these here photos). The idea was that people could do as they like, opting not to infuse the food. Personally, I prefer that, though I enjoy infused food, too.

A personal ask: do a gravity bong next! Or maybe a torch.

You can shop Amitha’s line, as well as other accessories she has curated, here.

Scooby snacks…

I commented in a CBS8 segment yesterday about a law potentially coming to Carlsbad prohibiting people from smoking in apartment or condo units even if they own them. I’m obviously not in favor of turning residents against one another and further turning landlords into cops, among other hang-ups I shared.

Now, there’s evidence some marijuana samples submitted for testing contain a mysterious “soup” of dozens of unknown compounds never before found in cannabis. Lab executives told MJBizDaily they believe the compounds are created when hemp-derived cannabinoids are converted to delta-8 and delta-9 THC. How they affect consumers is unknown.

MJBizDaily reporter Chris Roberts debunks Kamala Harris’s supposed weed prosecution lore. He also wrote a good report about how the DCC is handing down more recalls to catch up with the scandal, but they’re being released much too slowly for any meaningful consumer safety.

This Filter article discusses why felons are often forced to re-offend for lack of any other economic opportunities after they leave prison.

In Arizona, they are wondering aloud whether or not their precious water should be used to grow cannabis.

Curaleaf and other MSOs are pivoting to hemp-derived cannabinoids.

Ahh, the neolibs at The Atlantic finally figured it out! “Congress accidentally legalized weed six years ago.”

Hightimes.com is still down.

“Want to hear about the first time I smoked weed?” my dad asked me and my husband while we were relaxing on my parents’ outdoor porch last week. We were visiting my family on Long Island, New York, where I grew up.

“I was 18 and at NYU, so I was in one of the [campus] buildings,” my dad said, explaining that he had enrolled in the university’s engineering program and was starting school. He ended up not finishing and became a roadie instead, eventually touring and in charge of sound on Rod Stewart’s Maggie May tour, but for one brief moment, he was enrolled.

Since my dad was born in 1950, he said it must have been 1968 or 69. He was sitting next to a recently returned Vietnam veteran who had his leg blown off. My dad sighed about something, and the man tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at the man sitting there, holding a joint.

“Want me to change your mind?” my dad says he said. He took it, smoked it later, and never went back. He said he’d never forget it and laughed. Since I’ve embarked on this phase of my career, this cannabis writing, my dad has increasingly felt comfortable smoking with me and sharing his own stories about his use and even growing and low-key entrepreneurial tendencies in the realm (if you catch my drift).

It’s been a fun bonding experience, and I cherish the fact that we can share these parts of our lives before it’s too late. I think of all the people who aren’t able to do these very ordinary things, like just smoking a joint, with even their loved ones, and it’s strange to me. Prohibition has deeper tentacles than we often realize.

When I was younger, living and growing up on Long Island and in New York City, I’m not sure I ever wondered what legal weed might be like. It was just one of those things I accepted about life: I will get older, I have to go to school, then I will get a job, and weed is illegal.

A lot has changed in those twenty-or-so years: now, weed is legal in New York! And we know it has not been rolled out well. Still, things are changing, and it was exciting to dip back in to see what’s going on, especially where I grew up.

I've realized that Long Island is a wild place, but nobody who lives there thinks it is. They think it’s normal life, but it’s not: It’s an island of NYC bedroom communities feeding into and off of its satellite city, at once one of the wealthiest places on the planet (see: the North Shore communities, the vibe of which was memorialized by F. Scott Fitzgerald) and the poorest (see: the mainly Central American immigrant communities in the center island, South Shore, and East End towns). These divisions aren’t specific to Long Island, but they are more stark, owing to the level of extreme wealth found there, thanks to its proximity to New York and the geographic inclusion of the Hamptons.

Long Island is also a cop island, perhaps not coincidentally. Its police forces from its two counties, Nassau and Suffolk, are the highest-paid county employees on Long Island. Law enforcement employees in Nassau and Suffolk counties earned record-high overtime pay in 2022, with hundreds racking up more than $100,000 in overtime each and eight making more than $200,000. At one point, while I was growing up there, Nassau PD officers were the highest paid in the nation.

The island’s politics follow suit. I grew up in a vortex of Irish- and Italian-American and Jewish middle-class-and-up families. The latter tended to vote Democrat; the former voted primarily Republican and still do. Long Island went for Trump in 2020, and based on the signs and comments of people I heard while I was there, it sounds like it’ll go that way this year, too.

I love where I grew up–it is a profoundly core part of who I am, culturally speaking—but it confuses me. I’m not sure I could survive the rat race there, physically or mentally, and it’s one reason I’ve stayed in California and out of the suburbs. It is not that the cultural divide is any less stark or strange here, but being away from “home” has allowed me to become my own person with my own politics without the daily influence of where I grew up, which I needed. And as much as everyone might be a closet weedhead on Long Island, I needed to live that out loud more, too, and that is much easier to do in California.

All of these are to say that I love visiting home, but it can be emotionally taxing. It’s become significantly more fun and exciting since legal weed has entered the chat, not because it is going well in New York (it isn’t), but because it has allowed the heads to come out of the shadows and finally convene.

Almost as soon as I arrived back, the signs that everyone smokes weed started popping up. On July 4th, I was at my friend’s house in my hometown. She bought in a neighborhood where many of my childhood friends lived and where I spent a lot of time. We walked to the beach and passed a house with weed plants growing out front. “What’s that?” I shouted, and an old, tan, obviously Italian-American man sauntered down the steps.

Not used to calling people out in public like that, I quickly blurted out, “I’m a cannabis journalist!” and that’s how I met Uncle Frank. It turns out he’s my dad’s age and has been buying from Covelo in Mendocino since the 1970s, supplying my town with weed and listing the names of familiar families he figured I knew. I did. We’ve all been smoking Uncle Frank’s weed for decades.

Then, another guy comes down the stairs and introduces himself as a glassblower, breeder, and grower—the one really in charge of Uncle Frank’s harborfront plants. We quickly discover we all went to the same grade school and that, actually, I’m one of his sister’s closest friends from middle school, with whom I still talk. I had no idea her brother was into weed, so you can expect to see his work featured here soon.

The next day, I headed down to Farmingdale, a 40-minute drive from my parent's house, to Happy Days, one of the two legal adult-use dispensaries on the entire island, which has a population of 7.6 million. I met Shelby of Betty Bloom Social Club, a cannabis pop-up event and education company based on the Island. We found out Shelby grew up a few minutes up the road from me, and we nearly missed attending school together.

Shelby’s also the marketing director at Happy Days, which is a lovely dispensary. They have an impressive selection from every New York brand I’ve heard of throughout the state and many that I hadn’t heard of. I was thrilled I could actually see and smell the weed, which we can’t do here in California. I was also excited that the security guard merely checked my ID and let me in—no ID copying, no list logging, nothing. No sign that you had ever been there except for your receipt, as it should be. It was also packed, with people filtering in and out and nobody seeming ashamed to be there. I loved it.

I asked Shelby to recommend some buds, and she directed me to the wares of two Long Island farms. I picked up a mixed light eighth of Route 27 Hempyard’s “Slurricane,” grown in Moriches near the Hamptons, where I have spent a ton of time eating pie, sneaking joints in fields, fishing, eating, swimming, and chilling after taking the ferry to Connecticut when I was traveling back and forth from college.

The other eighth was “Pure Kush” from Rolling Stoned’s grow on the Ladies of the Nova Ark farm in The Hamptons. They were good smokes, but the buds were tighter, frostier, and less leafy on the Route 27 eighth. I also picked up live resin from MFNY, which is exceptionally killer: Honey Banana and Rainbow Belts 2.0.

My final observations from the depths of suburban weedland are from my sister’s engagement party, where I realized I was definitely expected to be the plug–a role I’m more than happy to satisfy. It was hilarious. Groups of thirty-somethings constantly walk out from the backyard to the front cul-de-sac, mysteriously reappearing, rinse, and repeat. My dad started calling me The Pied Piper. It was cool to have the party slightly revolve around weed in an organic way, which was not intended. The keg they ordered never even got kicked.

I also realized during these seshes that New Yorkers LOVE the Penjamin. I can imagine why: less access to good flower than the average person has in California and ease of use, especially in small apartments or on the subway. But, as we know, it’s not something I can get into: I don’t trust most 510 batteries, and I definitely don’t trust the distillate oil inside them. Plus, THC distillate highs are the equivalent of smoking brick weed: squinty eyes, that swollen feeling, barely any high, no head change.

I want to shout out Supernaturals NY, a sustainable and regenerative cannabis farm that ensured I had a care package waiting for me and my dad when I arrived in the Empire State. They stocked it with the finest Hudson Valley sungrown pre-rolls, which packed an incredible punch and kept my friends and family members chilling all holiday weekend, which is frankly no small feat. Thanks for powering the seshes and showing downstate New Yorkers the glory of outdoor-grown weed in their state! My dad couldn’t believe it was grown outside in living soil. I’ll be featuring this grower here soon.

P.S. You cannot get these pre-rolls legally on Long Island yet, but I have made the necessary dispensary introductions :)

Scooby snacks…

WeedWeek, aka Alex Halperin, continues to kill the game. Here’s his scoop about a DCC officer who was indicted for selling guns. It reminds me of a story I reported for Voice of San Diego a few years ago, which included a San Diego Sheriff Captain who served two years in federal prison for trafficking guns and helping to run illegal cannabis dispensaries. This week, he also uncovered this story about a federal judge who may have widened the path to bankruptcy relief for cannabis companies.

The Senate Appropriations Committee approved an amendment that allows the Department of Veterans Affairs doctors to recommend medical cannabis to veterans in legal states.

I will be a concentrates judge for the Farmers’ Cup 710 competition, which will be held on August 11. The night before is Jimi Devine & High Rise’s Transbay Challenge for the first time in San Diego, and I’ll be judging there, too. Lol @ me writing about lung health recently.

I was on an hour-long segment on KPBS’ Roundtable yesterday, talking about the food and drink scene in San Diego. I don’t write about it a lot here, but before my cannabis journalism, I was a prolific food and travel journalist (two of my essays made it into consecutive volumes of the Best American Travel Writing anthology, including this Cannabitch piece). For years, I covered the growing restaurant scene in San Diego and Mexico’s Baja California closely, then dipped out to focus on cannabis for several years. Since I joined San Diego Magazine full-time over two years ago, I’ve been brought back into the food media fold: I regularly write food stories, am a co-host of our food podcast, Happy Half Hour, and edit our food news section. I keep calling myself a “former food writer,” but it’s just not true; I am actually presently very much a food writer. I’m back. I accept it, finally.

Daniel Muessig, also known as Dos-Noun, currently lives at a federal penitentiary in Pennsylvania. An FBI raid in May 2019 forced the closure of his illegal cannabis business. Two and a half years later, while working as a real estate developer and landlord, he was indicted for the 2019 incident due to the widespread use of informants. Refusing to cut a deal or speak to authorities, he was given a mandatory 5-year prison sentence in the federal system, a sentence he is now serving. He mailed me this text in a letter, which bluntly (no pun intended) details cannabis and other drug use at the prison in which he lives.

This is not a pretty story, but it is true.

Cannabis use in federal prisons is common, if not widespread. It's also highly problematic for the user because being caught with even trace amounts in your system results in a series 100 shot (The highest level of incident report.) The sole activity that I have seen prisoners get in trouble for that carries greater weight than cannabis is getting caught with a phone.

Both activities are rated as more severe than assault or rape.

The feds still consider cannabis to be a highly dangerous and illegal substance. They make no allowance for it being a less hazardous or benign drug. Their attitude towards it in court filters down to the compound.

That said, it is widely consumed. At camps, people can cop fire eighths for $40, which is slightly higher than street prices but a far cry from the $50 a pen cap of desiccated, crumbled flower whose provenance is good of yours as it is of mine.

Staff tolerance varies widely by compound. Some federal spots, such as USPs and Core Civic Holding centers, don't concern themselves with what we do as much, and specific staff are always pliable when the arbitrage becomes known to them. But these lanes also constrict or close with alarming speed for those of us in this cloistered world. So, the price, quality, and availability of everything fluctuate rapidly.

As of now, pen caps are what I could best describe as extremely dry work flav shakes that go for $50.

0.10 eyeballed goes for a book of stamps (Our currency), now $10.

The preferred delivery method for cannabis is wax or extracts. Budder, sugar, or shatter entropically decomposing to budder is smeared on blunt wrap papers.

A gram is $300. A single tiny rolling paper is a book. These are combined with tea leaves (tobacco being a double dip for expenditure) to create volume and mass and smoked.

Sometimes, some fire rosin shows up, and one can smell the terpenes from 300 feet away. The amount of money paid means that quality is possible—just not probable. I've been called on numerous times as a weed guy emeritus to referee quality and strain.

Young kids and experienced heads will smoke as much as they can. But the danger of a drug test lurks.

Here, they come at night after the 12 a.m. count and smack your bunk. The lookouts flag them with a "FLOOOOOOR" alert call, but they make it up fast.

They tell you to get dressed, and you are soon under a night sky for one of the sole times you will be until you are free. They search for you and administer a test with more panels than a solar farm.

Guys will often try and bonk the test with pubic hair or bleach concealed.

I watched a guy get hit for a glove balloon of fake piss and go to the SHU one night at 1 AM.

It's foreboding to walk into the Lieutenant's office at any time, especially in the middle of the night.

The results come back weeks later, and then the men disappear.

The largest betrayer of cannabis use in the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) is the user's endocannabinoid system. Since this stuff is pretty good for the user, the body greedily holds onto it in the fat cells. There it lays, a dormant snitch till the testing comes, and away one goes.

To combat the BOP jihad against weed smoking, the market innovated via the introduction of K2. This synthetic cannabinoid appears to have been designed by a fucking Batman villain for the sole purpose of making everyone's life absolute hell.

Locked in Han Solo stasis, head laid in window frame, biting other men's shoulders, doing a breakdancing worm on the hallway floor/the patented swimming move so prevalent when the limbic system shuts down, or being wacky waving inflatable flailing arms guy for hours on end until they collapse in a pile of seemingly dead bodies on the floor, these assholes ruin EVERYTHING. I've seen deuceheads (our name for them) shriek about God and Satan and ritualistic sex with their sisters with an enthusiasm that would shame anyone in NYC. Sometimes catatonic. Other times animatedly violent, they are a fucking bane. They can always be distinguished by the fact they only wear khaki. All their sweat clothes sold over time to feed the deuce dragon. I've seen them dive off tiers during transit and locked up on floors and beds while they defecate screaming.

It's a cheap and fun drug that does not show up on drug tests and, therefore, fills the negative space for cannabis users who don't want to go to the SHU but are past caring what happens to them.

I will point out that you have to do time to know how much it hurts. You'll seek anything to kill that pain. And you are becoming a hallway sleeping wraith clad in dirt-impregnated khaki, stealing headphones and single batteries so you can do Victorian Era faints down institutional staircases and throw feces-drenched sheets at your friends while wailing is one of them.

But you won't go to SHU. Or instead, it's tough to.

ID-sized doses of K2 are cheap—far more so than weed. And mail makes it easy to flood them in. As they are odorless and can be on any paper medium, the introduction is a cinch and a treat for us.

I remember a deucehead selling my chicken twice in transit, and I had to enter his cell and grip him up to retake the chicken I'd paid for.

He had a spiderweb tattooed on his head like a shower cap and looked like a cyberpunk henchman/minion. Malnourished and deeply insane. He was a vision of the drug's ravages and ended up going to the SHU in transit for a deuce, which was the equivalent of a crosscourt NBA buzzer-beater trifecta of abject loserdom. But in the wash of his 218-month sentence, who is counting?

The most insidious drug of all available is suboxone. Used to ward off the worst symptoms of opiate withdrawal, the strips are divided into 8ths, 16ths, and 32nds, fluted nasally with water or introduced ocularly, and then work as a de facto opiate when abused.

Users constantly complain that the high is so fleeting and the withdrawal so profound.

Once addicted, the user is 99% certain never to quit. And it cues them up for fentanyl addiction in the world.

Stealing, sex trade, and manipulation of family are rife to keep the warm muslin blanket pulled over one's head.

These show up on drug tests, which is ever so slightly disingenuous given that the compound medical center dispenses them via the MAT program. MAT plays favorites and is more challenging to get into than Yale. I've seen a literal child rapist get admitted while a drug dealer father of 2 who didn't tell got turned down—vagaries of incarceration.

Over time, the subs rule the user. Their dilated eyes only fade when they get sick and the monkey claws them back. Sub junkies come off sad and desperate, shouldering the weight of the strips and the time.

But you can have a suboxone card here. Never a weed one.

Daniel Muessig, also known as Dos-Noun, currently lives at a federal penitentiary in Pennsylvania.

Scooby Snacks…

Sha’Carri Richardson is going to the Olympics! I wrote about her expulsion during the last go-around in 2021.

This Miami Herald piece details the devastating toll taken on the environment by indoor grows. Of course, we know it need not be this way with better legislation.

MJBizDaily’s Chris Cassachia details the fallout from the LA Times vape investigation.

The IRS wants to ensure that cannabis businesses know that they cannot take tax deductions for business expenses until rescheduling is complete.

It’s always nice to see legislation decriminalizing paraphernalia. Those kinds of laws are frequently the ones left un-turned-over. This time, it’s happening in Louisiana.

The esteemed HousingWorks in NYC is issuing a cannabis membership swap for people with illegal dispensary cards in an effort to get consumers into the legal market.

My friend Cara Wietstock wrote about why you shouldn't consume weed before getting a tattoo, and I wish she had interviewed me because I would have agreed. Afterwards, absolutely. Before or during: very bad idea. I’m very experienced in this realm, so please trust me.

PS…have you noticed the High Times website has been down for about a week? Who knows why!? ; )

Severe paranoia moment

Only one seed of many has popped above the soil, and although I still have many days to go, I am not enjoying waiting because they are very special seeds from Fig Farms. Thanks for letting me get this off my chest, and may all of your thoughts be with my girls and boys-to-be.

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Let Poetry of Plants forecast the future of the cannabis industry…

In his first fortune-telling missive, he predicts more chemicals.

Thank You For Not Testing

Surprise, surprise! Vape producers have been slipping you parts per billion of bug spray. Are you huffing insecticide or vaping THC distillate? 

Who knows! Who knows how much of it affects us in any meaningful way? We also don’t know how long these tainted products have been sold. Vaping is essentially heating, not burning, which definitely sounds safer. We do know, however, that the chemicals found at microscopic levels in cannabis, when concentrated, are very toxic.

Maybe our bodies are like the ocean—an estimated 175,000 tons of plastic float along the shoreline and surface layer of the sea. An estimated 1.4 quintillion tons of water fill our oceans. I couldn’t find a calculator that would compute a percentage with 18 zeros, so let’s say it’s safe to assume that the amount of plastic is way less than parts per billion and yet has an observable and undesirable effect. With vaping, the bodily systems that function as filters for toxins are bypassed, and whatever chemicals are heating into a gas are readily absorbed into the bloodstream and into the ocean that is our body. It’s not apples to apples, but there could be a parallel effect for us. A microscopic tank mix of chemistry builds up over time on the shores and surfaces of our internal organs—death by a thousand puffs.

Who knows how many have the bandwidth to care. Giving a shit about all the compounding chemical exposures during our days and lives would require a lot of bandwidth. It would require a novel approach to society, and at the moment, enough people are demonstrating a primitive approach to protest and change. A chemically laced level of performative violence, emotional intelligence, and irrational thought. Not an inspiring sign.

There is hope, though. More chemicals.

Made to fix the damage caused by the creation of war and the progress birthed from flattening occupied areas of the earth. Life extension therapy, the Hail Mary pass from Ares, could keep us alive long enough to grasp the current situation. It also leads to a whole lot of unexpected situations. 

Like one where you could vape for another 400 years.

What happens if the DCC acts like a functioning department?

The current California adult-use cannabis program will collapse. The liability is somewhat spread across all types of businesses, and the market has only survived by existing between the rules. It is not just one part of the market but a mess of noncompliance. The problem with the DCC functioning for the state government is that every action will also tear apart a healthy chunk of the regulations, requiring a broad updated rule set.

With sizeable international tobacco and beverage companies feeling the hit of today’s volatile world, whatever laws and regulations are updated will likely be guided by their hand. This is evident in how hemp is being regulated. In a way, the more prominent, more powerful, unseen actors looking to scoop up an expanding market of cannabis consumers do not need licensed cannabis any longer if they can keep filling up the gas in the hemp market’s tank. 

Are there strict testing rules on toxic chemical constituents in the hemp industry? Not really; there is a hyper-focus on various cannabinoids but not much talk or inspection of what’s in a hemp-branded vape or other product. Also, we live in an era where governmental agencies and other civic institutions are trusted less, which leads to a creeping ineffectiveness. So when the FDA speaks, it doesn’t always land. In general, this is not great. What is created next will serve the interests of whichever entity holds the most power and capital authority. At some point, the black market will either be outcompeted by the hemp industry or folded in. 

So, the only real thing of value the licensed world of cannabis has for consumers is cleaner products and trusted brands with some time on the market. The idea of that might be the only thing that matters; the actuality of it is what we should strive for because, at some point, it will matter. It is best to send the worst actors in the licensed space as fast as possible through the door, where they might find themselves left only to join the hemp industry.

The higher the number of bad actors in the hemp space, the more likely it will fall apart faster. That is unless consumers just don’t care, and if that is where we are, we have bigger problems than dirty vapes and chodes yelling ‘Fake News’ into the screen of their phones when they get caught tank mixing liquid death into distillate carts.

Nelson Lindsley is a cultivator, consultant, and weed industry meme lord. You could call him an influencer, but I think he’d be annoyed by that. Anyway, here’s his new flower drop with Catalyst, available throughout California.

Brian “Box” Brown is a comic artist, cartoonist, author, and illustrator.

And now they are both Cannabitch columnists. How auspicious for them!

Scooby Snacks…

I published a fun essay about finding acceptance in being a stoner in High Times the other day. It’s not genius shit, but I did get a lot off my chest.

Weed smokin’s-a-comin’ to the California State Fair.

LOL. Lester Black really hated Planet 13 in Orange County.

As the rest of the California industry struggles, apparently, Santa Barbara cannabis is booming.

Hawaii is tinkering with an expungement program.

This new UN report on global drug trends posits that legalization in the U.S. and Canada may have helped to shrink the size of ex-legal markets while at the same time preventing many people from being arrested on cannabis charges. Honestly, I’m just not sure if the former is true, but it’s an interesting read. It also notes a “psychedelic renaissance,” which is true, but I’m also not going to be caught dead saying the corporatization of psychedelics is any “renaissance.”

Fake labor unions continue to plague the cannabis industry.

The North Carolina Senate is making moves on legalization despite political brouhaha.

Marijuana rescheduling won’t fulfill Biden’s campaign pledge to decriminalize, says this op-ed piece by Cat Packer.

Donnell Alexander of West Coast Sojourn interviewed his old boss, Alex Halperin, otherwise known as WeedWeek, and, at the moment, probably better known for being one-half of the reporting duo of the LA Times Vapegate 4.0-and-counting investigation. (I’ve also reported for WeedWeek.)

Vapegate Round 8 Million is causing lawsuits, and the California DCC formally recalled products that failed testing many months ago.

Minnesota raided businesses suspected of illegally selling hot hemp.

Medical sales will soon begin in Ohio.

Guess who doesn’t want to deschedule? The GOP.

Writer Jessica Reilly-Chevalier wrote in after the last issue about neurodivergence and cannabis to share some additional resources: Here’s Jessica’s interview series with an endocannabinoid pharmacology expert, cannabis nurse, neurodivergence educator, and two pharmacists discussing a variety of concerns like high doses of THC, THC's biphasic effects, and the need for neurodivergent people to balance cannabinoid intake and not get stuck on THC dominance.

Earlier this year, author, writer, and journalist Lauren Yoshiko ( and much more) published her first book, Green Scenes: A Guide to Legal Cannabis Destinations Across the U.S.

In addition to being stunningly beautiful, befitting Yoshiko’s bonafides as a one-time Broccoli staffer and all-around aesthetics enthusiast, the book is a snapshot of a specific half-legal moment in the United States cannabis history. Hopefully, things will have changed years from now, so it’s cool to have thoughtful documentation of our culture along the way–she details 15 states and 33 cities and their cannabis cultures. Here, Yoshiko answers a few questions about her labor of love.

You can buy Green Scenes here. It makes a lovely coffee table book and is a great conversation starter.

1. Okay, let's do this. Why is that photo of that specific dispensary on the cover? To me, it exemplifies so much in modern, legalizing cannabis culture. There are layers; there's a lot behind it. Can you dig in?

I felt the same way. It was super important to me to offer a glimpse into the new world of weed and how far things have come from heady headshops of yore. This book is about capturing legal weed *right now*, so I wanted it to feel super fresh, modern, and almost jarringly unexpected. I wanted it to stop someone walking past it in a bookstore in their tracks, making them go, "Wait, THAT's what weed shops look like now? Holy shit."

This picture did that to me when I first saw it. After all my research across the country, there were a lot of cool shops, but none so visually arresting as LA's Wyllow. We considered a few different shots from the shop for the cover, but I never considered any other cover concept.

2. Why a travel book at this point in cannabis history?

It's not necessarily a travel guide, but it also is. The publisher's goal—Hardie Grant—was some kind of guide to what was happening across the US, this emergence of unique state markets from coast to coast. To me, the most logical way to accomplish that was to focus on the most developed states, offer a snapshot of the vibes of their weed scene, and highlight the shops, people, and experiences key to those communities.

One thing I really appreciated was their desire for me to take a really curated approach, skewing away from popular spots and towards those operated by people and philosophies that contributed to a more ethical and diverse industry. (Sometimes, those were also very popular spots). 

I also just love practical guides that are useful in real life. The first writing project I led that was bigger than a single article was a comprehensive guide to Portland, OR, organized by neighborhood and designed with locals and tourists in mind. I get really inspired about creating physical tomes that help connect people to small businesses doing things with care in a way that has nothing to do with SEO or Google advertising.

3. What was the most surprising thing you learned about cannabis culture after writing this book?

I found the spectrum of cannabis culture is more or less pretty similar across the country. In my experience, the people who want to work in cannabis (who aren't just here to turn a profit) often share a lot of the same traits: people who believe in the disruptive potential of this plant medicine, creative people interested in the ways weed makes space for inspiration and whimsy, and people excited about the possibility of growing something of their own in a more thoughtful, sustainable way than the traditional extractive practices of Big Business.

The local culture of each region has an impact on how cannabis culture is expressed—i.e., more farm-focused scenes in agricultural hotspots like Vermont and Maine; and more experiential scenes in big cities—but I think what I really took away was how legal cannabis offers a really interesting entrepreneurial platform right now. Whether you're interested in agriculture, experimental gastronomy, alternative healthcare, or just the idea of building and running a community space with your family, cannabis is a lens through which many super unique and thoughtful businesses are launching right now. 

4. How important was the art and design to this book, and why so? I know you have many thoughts about creativity and cannabis culture and the subtle ways both inspire each other. How is that borne out in your book and its art?

Super!!!! Design is so big, both in getting people's attention and helping rebrand outdated notions of weed as a dangerous illegal drug. Although utility played a role in the organization of the contents, the book itself was meant to be treated like a coffee table book first and foremost, helping destigmatize the cannabis space by being beautiful enough to display. We didn't have a budget for photography, so all the images were actually provided by the businesses and people featured—vibe really came down to the designer. The publishers knew I came from a background working with Broccoli, which set a bar of cannabis aesthetics for us to aim towards, so they were intentional about hiring a designer with playful and elevated taste. I think they nailed it and also did a great job capturing the broader picture I was trying to convey through choices like using different fonts and color schemes to express the different cultures of the West Coast, Southwest, Midwest, and East Coast. 

A cherry on top that I particularly loved: each region also features a different color airbrushed in the gutter, so that when the book is closed, there is a rainbow ombre effect along the edges. A little reward for a closer, perhaps plant-altered look. 

Here are two excerpts from Green Scenes: New Mexico and Maine

NEW MEXICO

New Mexico’s scene is one of the fastest to get on its feet—much to the excitement of many tourists visiting one of the wondrous natural destinations here. Hundreds of shops are in operation in the state, and many of them are selling affordable flower at above average quality. The abundance of sun in this desert state makes outdoor cultivation a popular choice, and the plants seem to thrive in this soil. This climate may be arid, but after thousands of years of human civilization—from ancestral Puebloans and beyond—the land offers many regions of rich, unique terroir from which dozens of farms are proud to harvest. 

While legal cannabis in New Mexico is new, its cannabis culture is not. There’s a long-established hippie presence here, thanks to visits from icons like Aldous Huxley and Bob Dylan seeking mind-expanding experiences and wide-open space for creative inspiration. The modern landscape has yet to reflect those psychedelic roots, though. Beyond the hundreds of dispensaries in operation, the legal space is still finding its groove (consumption-friendly lounges and activities have yet to really kick off). Fortunately, head a few miles in any direction and you’ve got broad vistas of natural beauty at your fingertips that many cross multiple state borders to enjoy. I cannot wait to see and sample more New Mexico-grown cannabis as this scene develops.

BIGHORN WEED CO.

A family-run, veteran-owned dispensary vending craft flower out of a renovated blacksmith shop.

Ekin Balcıoglu and Steve Weiner arrived in the 6,600-person town of Taos without really looking into it. They just wanted to be somewhere other than Los Angeles during the darkest point of the COVID-19 pandemic. They fell in love with this place in a matter of days, though, and they never left. It could’ve been the mystical sunsets or the powerful history pulsing through the city in the form of the Taos Pueblo, a UNESCO Heritage Site and living Native American community that has been continuously inhabited for over one thousand years.

“People talk about the audible, sensory “hum” of the desert here. It’s real,” Weiner, who worked on a licensed cannabis farm in Humboldt before he’d ever heard of Taos, NM, said.

Once the state legalized cannabis, he saw an exciting opportunity to try things again in their new home, and perhaps help build a more successful environment for smaller, craft operators than California’s brutally competitive market. While the couple set about renovating a historic building that formerly housed a blacksmith shop, they started getting to know farms and launched a delivery-only store—the only delivery option north of Santa Fe, in an area that currently doesn’t even have pizza delivery.

“We believe you should know where your weed comes from and how it was grown,” Weiner explained. “We handpick small batches of cannabis from licensed farms that consciously grow in tune with our planet.”

Bighorn Weed Co.’s partners for grams and joint packs include Rising Roots, Taos Mountain Budz, and Gold Fish Farms—two of the three being New Mexican women-owned and operated. Inside the store, you’ll find stunning original wood features revealed by the historic renovation, curated art on the walls, and gardening books and indie magazines on the shelves that lend a living room energy to the space, beckoning folks to hang out for a while. The magazine selection includes Weiner and Balcıoglu’s Hamam Magazine, a publication dedicated to bathing art and culture—perfect reading material for a stay at the legendary Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs Resort & Spa a couple of towns over.

536 Paseo Del Pueblo Norte

Taos, NM 87571

bighornweed.com

CARVER FAMILY FARM

A cannabis dispensary, clone nursery, and plant and cacti boutique operated by old friends

As New Mexico’s largest city, I assumed my research would turn up a broad range of unique spots to shop and experience; however, one name continued to come up: Carver Family Farm. A couple sentences into my conversation with co-founder Mathew Muñoz—a fifteenth-generation New Mexican—and I understood why. It turns out that Muñoz’s family has a land grant from a Spanish King that dates back centuries! Mindblowing, right? The grower at Carver Family Farm is actually his old friend and co-founder, Andrew Brown, who he met while working at a headshop. Brown was the glass blower/resident flower dealer out back, and since they linked up, Muñoz hasn’t smoked anyone else’s flower. Erika Brown is the third co-founder and helps cultivate the high-quality, indoor-grown flower that Albuquerque residents seek out. 

Their petite farmstand of a shop—a literal “microbusiness”—only stocks house flower, and the concentrates and vapes are all made with house-processed live resin bubble hash. The team has always intended to maintain quality, not quantity, so you might have to make two trips in order to catch an eighth of their signature Carver strain, bred by Andrew Brown in-house. That’s no inconvenience when there are numerous other plants to peruse in-house. CFF also grows award-winning cacti and succulents as well as hard-to-find peppers like Dragon’s Breath, Death Spiral, and heirloom Aleppo chilis—all of which you can buy as living plants inside the dispensary.

8917 Adams Street

Albuquerque, NM 87113

carverfamilyfarm.com

MAINE

Maine is the cannabis cultivation capital of the East Coast. Many New England operators I spoke to that had worked all over made the argument that Maine is home to the best concentrates and—depending on the strain—the best flower in the country. Even those living in neighboring states where cannabis is legal will make the drive across the border for some locally-grown goodness. There is a craft cultivation scene here that seems to stand a head above the rest, largely populated by small growers who care deeply about the way they grow the flower they provide to dispensaries. The twenty-five-year-old medical market has been largely populated by small boutique farms differentiated by unique strains and impeccable cultivation practices. There’s a long history of cannabis and hash competitions, unofficial 420 pot holiday gatherings, and a lack of dirty looks if you happen to smell extra fragrant when sitting down to enjoy some fresh-caught lobster.

Not-so-hidden gems abound in this intimate cannabis community and the equally intriguing food scene. In fact, Bon Appetit magazine named Portland the Restaurant City of the Year in 2018, and Biddeford was selected as one of America’s next great food cities in 2022 by Food & Wine. While many come for the seafood, it’s becoming a destination for vegetarians, vegans, and, of course, flower children like me who are interested in the other local greens.

HIGHER GROUNDS

A full-service CBD cafe offering hemp-infused lattes, uninfused baked goods, and real medical cannabis.

You could consider Higher Grounds a well-stocked hemp dispensary that includes a cafe and, if you’re a certified patient in Maine’s medical program, a real weed menu. I consider it a brilliant, highly accessible way to help people understand the many reasons people turn to hemp and cannabis. When you walk in, it looks like any other chill, plant-filled third-wave café. That is until the barista asks if you have a medical card. If so, they’ll gesture you toward the dispensary part of the space, and, if not, you’ll stroll up to make your coffee order or shop their hemp-derived offerings. It’s a pleasant enough space that many come here just to open up their laptop and kick back for a few hours, as they would in any cafe. They have a hyper-local eye when stocking their shelves, prominently featuring full-spectrum CBD salves, tinctures, vapes, and certified organic, Maine-grown hemp flower from Rooted Heart Remedies and Mindful Earth. It’s not easy to find well-grown hemp pre-rolls online, but all the hemp and cannabis products here are

grown in this state. Higher Grounds is a founding member of the Maine Craft Cannabis Association—a group of independent cannabis businesses, advocates, and enthusiasts fighting for fair, local, and craft-oriented cannabis policy—and has a nurse practitioner on staff to offer guidance to any inquiring patients.

45 Wharf Street

Portland, ME 04101

highergrounds.me

MEOWY JANE

A cat-themed boutique and dispensary located in charming, walkable Old Port.

People told Noelle Albert that it wasn’t a good idea to name her medical marijuana dispensary after a cat pun, but she did it anyway, and she leaned all the way in. In this quirky shop, there are fake robo-kitties that move and purr, and there is more than one cat-themed ashtray on display. The Meowy Jane team also partners with shelters to host cat adoption events (at which most cats end up getting adopted). While some folks do come in assuming it’s some kind of cat cafe, most are intrigued to sit down and chat awhile, put at ease by the charming, airy space.

As a previously licensed medical shop, Meowy Jane was grandfathered into the adult-use system; however, due to Maine’s cannabis laws, their house flower hasn’t been able to hit the shelves just yet. A longtime cultivator, Albert is looking forward to it, but for now, she’s got plenty of trustworthy farms and producers she’s proud to recommend. She says edibles are the top seller for them, with many customers opting for the ease and fast-acting effects of infused drinks. The Hashery’s hash rosin-infused drinks can also be found here, as well as truly fresh-baked edibles from local brand Pot & Pan.

Even if you aren’t craving any cannabinoids, this is a great spot to stock up on solid smoking accessories, too. You can find pieces by GRAV, a reliable name that does simple, everyday glass pieces perfectly, as well as dainty, ornamental porcelain bongs by vintage refurbisher My Bud Vases. There’s also jewelry by local artists, indie magazines (yes, Broccoli’s in the house), CBD intimacy oil by East Coast favorite, Citrine, and a generally dream aesthetic that’s perfect for capturing any cat mom/stoner girl content.

3 Market Street

Portland, ME 04101

meowyjane.org

Buy Green Scenes here.

First of all, this is a little late, but happy growing season to all who celebrate! I just popped these, below, which I received as a very, very special gift from the fine folks at Fig Farms and have permission to breed with, as well. I feel honored and lucky. I also just got different seeds to my dad in New York, who is growing outdoors this summer. He informed me this morning that he used to grow in the backyard when I was a kid. Had no idea. Anyway, I feel like the White Nectarine x Rainbow Belts will change my life. I’m also really excited about Sunrise x Zabuza (the latter is a key fighter in Fig’s gorgeous Momochi cultivar). Stay tuned.

The good doctor, , is back, and I’ve asked him to speak about a topic that is personal to me: “Cannabis Use Disorder,” neurodivergence, and mental health. Subscribe to Dr. Caplan’s substack here.

Read about my past musings on “Cannabis Use Disorder” here. And on cannabis and anxiety here.

Mental health with a side order of neurodivergence, all atop a big steaming pile of “Cannabis Use Disorder” -

Cannabis has been used both recreationally and medicinally for thousands of years. While many find it beneficial for alleviating symptoms of various conditions, including chronic pain, sleeplessness, anxiety, and depression, it can also have unwanted effects on mental health. Success is a balance, and it can be a delicate one. 

One of my patients described getting cannabis right as like trying to balance a marble on a plate. It’s easy to overcorrect, push hard one way or another, and force the marble off balance. I like this analogy, but I think the way cannabis works is fundamentally different from traditional medicines. Traditional medicines often try to counterbalance symptoms by pushing against them, attempting to suppress or negate what’s deemed too much or too little. It can feel like a constant battle to correct imbalances by counteracting specific issues.

In contrast, cannabis medicine seeks to bring the body into a state of balance. Instead of fighting symptoms, it works to harmonize and support the body’s natural ability to regulate itself. This is especially important for children, as it enhances their overall well-being rather than just addressing individual symptoms. For instance, rather than simply suppressing seizures or anxiety, cannabis aims to reduce their frequency and severity by promoting a state of equilibrium, allowing the body to function more smoothly and naturally. 

This approach offers a gentler, more holistic alternative to traditional medications. It fosters a sense of harmony and well-being that supports the child’s overall health and development. The shift from counterbalancing to balancing is subtle but profoundly impactful, providing a more integrated and effective path to wellness.

Positive Impacts of Cannabis

1. Anxiety and Depression: Many people find relief from anxiety and depression through cannabis. Cannabinoids like CBD are known for their calming effects, which can help improve mood without the high from THC. At CED Clinic, we’ve observed 72% of our patients eliminate at least one traditional medication from their routine after developing a steady routine with cannabis.

2. Stress Relief: Cannabis promotes relaxation and eases stress. The euphoria from THC can offer a temporary break from the pressures of daily life, and a fine-tuned regimen of CBD could help lift even the grumpiest of the seven dwarfs to a place of relaxation. 

3. Sleep Disorders: For those with trouble sleeping, especially insomnia, cannabis products with a mindful selection of terpenes can help improve sleep quality and duration without the baggage of a stone-over. Sleepy (the dwarf) need not apply. 

Negative Impacts

1. Psychosis and Schizophrenia: High doses of THC can sometimes trigger psychotic episodes, particularly among those individuals with a family history of these disorders or who are uniquely predisposed to conditions like schizophrenia. Regular use, but even infrequent use, can worsen these symptoms and lead to more frequent episodes, again - for the individuals already predisposed. Fun fact: there is also evidence that cannabis can help pull people OUT of episodes of psychosis and schizophrenia. Much is still to be learned about the overlap between these complex disorders and this multifaceted plant. We do know that we don’t yet have anything close to a full picture.

2. Anxiety and Paranoia: While cannabis can often and effectively reduce anxiety for many, consuming the wrong products or taking it in the wrong doses can also cause anxiety and paranoia, particularly at high doses or with THC-rich strains. Paranoia is defined as “fear without attribution.” When high doses of THC stimulate the heart to beat rapidly, the brain can interpret this as evidence that the body is afraid of something. This is similar to how your heart races and adrenaline flows when your midbrain (specifically a part of the midbrain called the superior colliculus) rapidly and unconsciously processes visual stimuli, such as detecting a snake. This allows for quick reflexive actions, like jumping back, even before the conscious brain (in the cortex) fully recognizes the threat. This rapid response is part of an evolutionary survival mechanism. So, if your brain interprets a fast beating heart as a sign you should be afraid, and your brain doesn’t know what you are afraid of… you get fear without attribution,or paranoia. 

3. Cognitive Impairment: Long-term cannabis use, particularly when it begins at a young age, can affect memory, attention, and decision-making. Short-sighted studies have often cited this as evidence that cannabis makes people less intelligent. However, more recent studies that required participants to sober up before retaking cognitive tests found that the initial results showing decreased cognition largely disappeared. This suggests that the cognitive impairments were temporary and related to being under the influence. Nevertheless, there is some truth to the idea that cannabis can lead to a neglect of important life skills. For example, if cannabis use makes you feel content, you might be less likely to seek emotional support from friends when you're sad or feel less motivated to prepare thoroughly for a job interview. Over time, not practicing these essential skills can certainly lead to downstream problems.

Like with all things, awareness is key.

Behavioral Disorders and Neurodivergence

Did you know that children born with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) tend to have lower circulating levels of natural endocannabinoids? Cannabis interacts with the endocannabinoid system, which regulates mood, memory, appetite, pain, and more. If someone is born with lower endocannabinoid "tone," it stands to reason that they might find external supplementation of cannabinoids beneficial. This interaction can affect individuals with behavioral disorders and neurodivergent conditions differently.

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

Some individuals with ADHD use cannabis to help with focus and reduce hyperactivity. However, the evidence is mixed; cannabis can sometimes worsen symptoms or lead to dependency. This may result in a sense of contentment with symptoms that do not necessarily align with the patient's initial goals for improvement.

Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

Cannabis, particularly higher doses of THC and moderate doses of CBD, shows promise in alleviating symptoms of ASD, such as anxiety, aggression, self-harming behavior, and even language processing in younger patients with ASD More research is needed to understand the long-term effects and optimal dosages, but boy does it look great from this point of infancy in the field. 

Cannabis Use Disorder (CUD)

Cannabis Use Disorder is a heaping trash pile of a diagnosis. The official definition is as follows: A pattern of problematic cannabis use that leads to significant impairment or distress. According to the DSM-5, CUD is diagnosed if at least two of the following symptoms occur within a 12-month period:

1. Using cannabis in larger amounts or over a longer period than intended.
2. Persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control cannabis use.
3. Spending a lot of time obtaining, using, or recovering from cannabis.
4. Craving or a strong desire to use cannabis.
5. Recurrent cannabis use resulting in failure to fulfill major role obligations.
6. Continued use despite social or interpersonal problems caused by cannabis use.
7. Giving up or reducing important activities due to cannabis use.
8. Using cannabis in physically hazardous situations.
9. Continued use despite knowing it causes physical or psychological problems.
10. Tolerance, needing more cannabis to achieve the desired effect.
11. Withdrawal symptoms when not using cannabis.

Take a careful look at the image below to gather my thoughts on this ridiculous diagnosis.  It reminds me of the foolishness of bloodletting from the medieval times. 

How This Ties into Mental Health and Behavioral Disorders

Because Cannabis Use Disorder (CUD) is deeply ingrained in the mainstream medical lexicon and training, changing this perspective may take years. Historically, medicine worldwide has been influenced by the belief that cannabis worsens mental health issues and behavioral disorders. For instance, using cannabis to cope with anxiety or depression may lead to dependency, ultimately worsening mental health over time. Similarly, individuals with ADHD or ASD might use cannabis for symptom relief but find that long-term use leads to tolerance and withdrawal, complicating their condition.

Unfortunately, too few doctors follow the evolving literature closely or learn from their patients, who are often the true experts in clinical outcomes. The lack of clinical experience and ongoing education means that many doctors remain entrenched in outdated beliefs about cannabis. As a result, they may be slow to recognize that what was taught in medical school is incomplete and needs updating through real-world patient experiences.

The stigma surrounding cannabis use is what most strongly contributes to social isolation and stress, impacting mental health. Legal issues related to cannabis use also cause significant distress, especially in areas where cannabis remains illegal. However, guided cannabis use, with knowledgeable experts, is a pathway to reduced medications, reduced burden of disease, and improved wellness. 

Final Thoughts

Cannabis has a complex relationship with mental health, behavioral disorders, and neurodivergence. While it benefits many, it also carries some risks, particularly concerning dependency and what the world sees as CUD. Understanding these dynamics is crucial for healthcare providers and individuals considering cannabis for therapeutic use. As research evolves, so will our understanding of how to maximize the benefits of cannabis while minimizing risks. For those struggling with CUD, professional guidance and support are essential to navigate challenges and optimize mental health outcomes. 

For those who feel like the battle is already lost - I’m one doctor ready to fight for what I think is right.  

I host a free webpage called “Ask Dr. Caplan,” where I answered a question about this designation for those interested in reading more.

Things I’m enjoying lately…

My new favorite edibles are, sadly, not available in the California market. Grön is headquartered in Portland, OR and available in Arizona, Missouri, Nevada, New Jersey, New York, Oregon, and across Canada, with multiple new markets scheduled to be added by the end of 2024. Here’s a nice guide to edibles on its website.

The funniest and best product they make is the MEGA Pearl, which is basically a mandarin orange-sized, 100mg-dosed, sugar-coated, single-serving gummy. They have graciously notched the pearl in 10mg increments, further cementing its orange-like appearance. The notches are pretttttttty shallow, though, so it’s clear what you’re supposed to do with this bad boy: instead of pulling out slices, like an orange, I am pretty certain the best delivery method is chomping it like an apple. That’s what I do, anyway, and it’s been going wonderfully for me.

The brand uses real fruit juices (my favorite is the papaya, orange, and guava flavor—POG, if you’re experienced. I also like cherry limeade) and the MEGA Pearls are gluten and soy-free. They’re made with full-spectrum extracts. They’re also priced attractively, averaging around $8 for 100mg, which is great bang for your THC buck (considering other prices in the legal market), especially if you’re a patient.

Grön’s other products, which use fair trade chocolate, come in lower doses, but they’re designed for serious consumers. The Pips, for example, are little chocolate balls, like M&Ms, with various minor cannabinoids and 5mg THC a pop. It’s the perfect solution for someone who wants a solid handful of something delicious and can also handle the dosage without needing to overload on sugar, like with other edibles designed for lower-dose customers. The Pips are also a nice incremental dosage add-on for those who eat chunks of MEGA Pearls at a time.

Clearly, I’m a fan. They’re thoughtful, well-made products that keep the heads in mind and at the forefront of product design.

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Wow, when I sent this three years ago, I only had 800 subscribers. I have many times that many now, and since this is my top-grossing and top-hit newsletter, I wanted to re-share with everyone.

This story went viral when first published, earning mentions in The Boston Globe, Morning Brew, and Canada's National Post. Helen Rosner of The New Yorker said I deserved the Pulitzer for my efforts. Even the UCSD researcher I interviewed thought I did an okay job translating his research for the weedy masses. It's one of my favorite stories ever, and for those of you newer here, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for following me and Cannabitch!

PS, also for your weekend reading: You must read my friend Alex Halperin’s industry-busting investigation in the LA Times. He’s also known as WeedWeek, and I’ve worked for him before. He's one of the best reporters in the biz, bar none. This article confirms why I buy the way I do (suspiciously and only from certain growers) and why I only use certain products and consumption methods. It’s terrifying and another stunning example of the many failures of legalization.

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“Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last. Imagine that you are doing this but that it is essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature...in order to found that edifice on its unavenged tears. Would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me. Tell the truth.”

―Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“At heart, I’m an animal lover. I always have been,” says Charlotte Gill, the incredibly appropriately named amateur animal scientist and owner of Charlotte’s Legendary Lobster Pound, a lobster shack in Southwest Harbor, Maine.

Gill explains how she used to save her allowance money to visit the local lobster pound each week when she was eight years old.

“I’d buy whatever I could,” she says, explaining that she was “saving lives.” Gill says she would buy crabs and lobsters, unband their claws, walk to the end of the pier, and toss them in the ocean.

After a series of life events, which began with an undergraduate dream of a dual psychology Ph.D. and law degree, Gill ended up with her current lobster restaurant. That seems less of an accident and more destiny for a native Mainer.

“My restaurant, which is about 10 years old, is so much more than a restaurant — it’s like a whole way of life and a hallucination, all wrapped into one,” Gill says of her special spot, which looks like a 1950s roadside stand. It sits adjacent to an ice cream stand and a big field filled with games like life-sized Connect Four, hula hoops, stick horses, and beanbag tosses. There are also five goats. She says the crowds, which are already large, continue to grow, year after year. Though she was living her dream, there was a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

Prior to becoming a purveyor of lobster and good times, Gill was once a student at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio. While there, she says she read Dostoyevsky, as one does in their 20s, ensconced in the bosom of academia.

“He’s freaking awesome,” Gill says. She recites the aforementioned line from The Brothers Karamazov, saying that it has stuck with her even at 51 years old. “The takeaway from that, for me, is that you can build the most perfect thing that you want, but if there are elements of it that are dark or less than good, it will desecrate the entire thing,” Gill says.

In the words of David Foster Wallace, Gill began to consider the lobster, an animal that has become a culinary delicacy worldwide. The preparation of this delicacy requires it to be cooked while still very much alive. In his famous essay, the late writer wonders, “Is it all right to boil a sentient creature alive just for our gustatory pleasure?”

Not exactly, Gill thinks. “Every year, it would get worse and worse for me,” she says of this nagging feeling that what was happening — the growth of her kingdom thanks to “this little creature dying an atrocious death” — was, in her own words, “a certain hypocrisy.”

Gill’s anxiety reached an apex sometime around 2018, when she considered going vegetarian, took a glance at her menu, and realized she would have to change the entire thing — she does run a lobster shack, after all — and decided there might be another way. “Suffering is always going to happen, it is always here, and until we can find a way to make suffering not happen at all on any level, then we have an obligation to do it the best way we can,” she says.

One evening, Gill watched the lobsters cook, gazing over them clamoring over one another, trying to crawl out of the pot as the bubbling hellbroth slowly transformed each animal from darkly-hued spidery bottomfeeders into ruby red dinnerplate centerpieces, extinguishing their lives in the process.

“I thought, just because they’re in their little shells and they don’t have vocal cords, that doesn’t mean there isn’t extreme suffering happening there,” Gill says. “It’s obvious, you can see it,” she adds.

Gill may be right, but there is a lack of consensus on exactly how or why. Some scientists maintain that lobsters can't actually feel pain because they lack specific brain anatomy. What could be viewed as an aversion to painful stimuli, like a lobster using its claws to find its way out of a pot of boiling water, might actually be a simple reflex.

Erring on the safe side, the Swiss government banned boiling lobsters in 2018, calling the practice inhumane and instead requiring more rapid methods of death, like stunning. The ruling was part of a larger swath of animal rights laws, which included banning puppy mills. The lobster portion resulted from a study conducted by Robert Elwood, a professor at Queen’s University in Belfast, Northern Ireland, who, in various studies, determined that crustaceans guard wounded limbs and avoid areas where they’ve experienced pain.

For Gill, the issue is not even worth debating. After observing the lobsters one evening, she ate a “cannabis cookie” and decided to meditate. “I made a shoutout to the universe: ‘How can I make this better? I can’t, in good conscience, continue doing this unless there’s a better path,’” she says, remembering.

Later that night, around 3 a.m., Gill “sat straight up in bed” and said she visualized a process wherein she realized “with absolute certainty that cannabis was the answer.” By this point in our conversation, I’m thoroughly nodding along. I get it. Who among us potheads has not had some THC-tinged epiphany in the middle of the night?

Gill’s thoughts join a chorus of doctors, caregivers, and patients around the world who have been shouting for literal centuries that THC is a great tool for pain management! She figured that if she got a lobster exceptionally stoned, they could be sedated and cooked with “minimal or no stress. At least that would sedate them to the point where it would be so much better than what was happening.”

After Gill’s revelation, she and her staff performed cursory internet research. They discovered a study from New Zealand that claimed invertebrates have cannabinoid receptors. Though the study ended there, Gill determined that cannabinoid medicines, like cannabis smoke, should, therefore, affect a lobster’s body.

Gill's next question was how to administer cannabis to a lobster, which, admittedly, is hilarious to imagine. I picture a lobster sitting on a lounge chair, spindly legs in the air. It’s holding a lit joint in its big, sweet, delicious claw, dripping with liquefied butter.

Gill took a different approach with her imagination and developed an immersion apparatus. Lobsters have 12 gills on their undercarriage, which, in addition to their eyes, are the best sites for quick absorption. She took a blue box, the type she typically uses to carry shellfish in, about six inches deep and a foot-and-a-half long. Crucially, it had a sealed lid. She placed a “few inches” of saltwater in it, where she rested a half-submerged lobster, gills down.

Gill and her crew then stuck a straw into a hole, completely sealed the area around it, and manually blew into the box cannabis smoke, which they had obtained from smoking a bowl (as one does). The smoke infiltrated the water and hung in the air above. As time passed, they used an air mattress pump “so we could be proper about it,” she says. The lobster stayed in the box for 3-5 minutes, which we both agreed was a decent enough hotbox session length.

“We did it many times, more than 40 or 50 times,” Gill says, saying they changed the variables as time passed. They switched strains, which were always grown locally, and noticed a difference in the lobster’s behavior. Water temperature “did not matter one iota,” she remembers. Overall, though, she says that the lobster always appeared chilled out to the point where she felt that, at the very least, they were not exhibiting signs of stress and, therefore, must have calmed. She says they observed tail flapping, and they also used a First Check drug test to test for the presence of THC, which came back negative. This is important because it shows that there won’t be any carryover of THC into whoever might be eating it.

Regulators were not so thrilled to learn of Gill’s endeavors and slapped her on the wrist (today, it would be more-or-less legal to do so under Maine’s current adult-use cannabis laws). She eventually discontinued the practice of administering THC to lobsters, which she claims makes the meat taste better since the animals are less stressed when they are killed. These days, she administers valerian root to the lobsters before processing.

Word of Gill’s experiments reached the local news, eventually spreading to San Diego. On May 25, researchers at U.C. San Diego published the results of their own study, which has not been peer-reviewed. “The primary goal was to determine tissue THC levels in the lobster after exposure to THC vapor. Secondary goals were to determine if THC vapor altered locomotor behavior or nociception,” the paper’s introduction reads. Nociception refers to the body’s ability to detect harmful substances in the body.

“The method of vapor exposure used in our study was selected to address the question of whether lobster gill respiration of aerosol THC would result in significant THC uptake and in behavioral effects,” says Dr. Arnold Gutierrez of the Department of Psychiatry at U.C. San Diego. “Another way one could administer THC is by injection,” he adds, detailing why they chose to follow Gill’s original blueprint in theory, if not in exact practice.

“No live lobsters were boiled in this study,” Gutierrez says. “What we did boil was a claw, after the lobster had been euthanized, to see if THC levels in cooked tissue could still be detected. THC levels were detected in boiled tissue,” he says, adding that the levels were too low to be considered intoxicating to humans should they then choose to eat the claw tissue.

Gutierrez explains that the study set out to determine three things.

“The first was to see if THC would be taken up into the lobster’s system by gill respiration. The second was to see if THC would block the perception of a painful stimulus, in this case, tail, claw, and antenna immersion in warm water ranging from 40oC-48oC. The third was to see if THC would affect lobster behavior, in this case activity,” Gutierrez says.

He confirms that THC levels in the lobster tissue confirm that THC was “indeed taken up by gill respiration.” They also noticed that the effects of THC on the lobster’s response to warm water were minimal.

When asked, “If the lobster wasn't boiling to death and was instead in the ocean, and it was high, how might it act?” Gutierrez, who is a really good sport, responded, “Based on the findings reported in the pre-print, lobster activity is decreased following aerosol THC exposure.”

While significant because it proves that lobsters can totally get stoned, it’s not exactly proof that they don’t notice they’re boiling to death. It’s also not proof they can even feel pain in the first place.

Gutierrez and his team chose to take on this quandary because “the lobster has been used as an animal model in neuroscience research for decades.  However, the behavioral effects of psychoactive substances have not been studied in the lobster,” he says. He tells me that in future studies, he thinks this invertebrate model could “potentially be used to study the behavioral effects of other drugs.”

Gill thinks the scientists should have consulted her first, if only to obtain what she believes are the correct parameters to produce an effective study. By the time I reached her, just a few days after the study was published, she had just learned that it had even been conducted.

She seemed a bit incredulous. “I was not even aware that this experiment had been recreated. How can you recreate an experiment if you don’t know how it was done at all? Except for just the basic gist of it?” she asks.

“Based on what I read of the experiment, which what was what I call, in air quotes, a ‘recreation’ of my experiment, it’s apples to oranges, a very different thing. I’m glad they tried it and saw some levels of success there, but I recommend that they do it in the fashion we did,” she says.

It’s a fair point, but it also surmises that lobsters can even feel pain in the first place. Gill, for her part, maintains this belief as absolute truth. I’ll admit that I’m still on the fence, but I do think it’s really cool that lobsters can get as high as we do. I also have faith that the university researchers were able to develop an effective study using their own methods and can appreciate utilizing differing schools of thought in tackling the same problem.

At the end of the day, Gill is used to people dismissing the pain and suffering of so-called lesser animals. She says she briefly considered the ethics of getting an animal high without its consent, a quandary I often kvetch over when even giving my dog CBD. She decided it was the lesser of two evils. For her, the real question is how we treat living beings, regardless of the pecking order. “I started thinking, wow, lobsters really are the least of the animals that are considered,” she says.

“If it affects the lobster,” Gill says of the pain incurred when killing animals for our sustenance, “it will affect every animal in our food supply until we can all be living on rainbows and sunshine or whatever, which is, I’m sure, lovely, if unattainable.”

Gill says that “as long as animals are in our food supply, we have an absolute obligation to dispatch in the most compassionate way possible. Jesus, if you consider the lobster, then you have to consider everything.”

Back in 2024…

Here’s something I recently smoked that I liked a lot. I was graciously gifted samples from the POSIBL universe, which included this Glitter Bomb eighth sold under the Paradiso label. The internet tells me that there are varieties of permutations attributed to this moniker, but Paradiso’s version says that it’s Gush Mints and GMO (which other growers appear to call Government Oasis or California Love. I agree with all of the aforementioned, based on its effects).

I love the mints; I can’t get enough. These also have sweet and gassy terps with plenty of pine and citrus. The stone is heavy in mind and body but doesn’t shut down your brain. It’s euphoric and heady. Good people watching weed, provided nobody wants actually to talk to you.

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Today’s gift guide is by Madison Mullis, a cannabis industry publicist living in the South, where things are not exactly legal. She’s a total badass with a thick Southern drawl, a Master’s degree in marketing, a sharp eye, and a hearty love for dabs, so that’s why I asked her to pen this guide. I also asked her to note which entries are clients; they are marked with asterisks, and there are only a few.

In a future issue, I’ll write about a dry herb ball vape that has recently changed my life. It would have been perfect to include it here, but it deserves a whole letter, so I’ll write about it soon.

by Madison Mullis

Full transparency: I do not typically commemorate Father’s Day, but my love for weed takes precedence. I think it should be celebrated all day, every day—and twice on Sundays for good measure! As a cannabis publicist by trade and self-proclaimed pot enthusiast, weed is essentially the essence of my being, and consuming it—in all its forms, particularly dabs—is my favorite way to pass the time. 

Despite being a Southerner born and raised, I’ve traveled coast to coast consuming the very best cannabis I could get my hands on. This was coupled with a year-long residency in Denver, where I tried every product available in dispensaries. In the spirit of the holiday, I’ve compiled a gift guide with all my top picks for the dad(s) in your life. From those who dabble to the headiest stoner you know, there’s something for everyone.

FOR THE DADS WHO DABBLE 

*FLUENT - MOODS Mini Vape

• Equivalent to the size of an AirPod, these disposable vapes are discreet AF. They’re a great choice for busy dads because you can slip it in your pocket and no one will ever know. 

Restart CBD - Restart Rita 

• Crisp, refreshing, and euphoric! Cannabis drinks often fall short on flavor, but these genuinely taste great and give you a good buzz without any weird aftertaste. They're easily my favorite infused beverage and super accessible—you can order them online.   

Kiva - Camino Midnight Blueberry

• If your dad struggles with insomnia, the Midnight Blueberry gummies will help him fall asleep and stay asleep. They have 5mg of THC and 1mg of CBN each; they’re ideal for new users trying to find the right dose. 

Sunburn - Live Rosin Nectar

• One of the most versatile ways to consume cannabis — Sunburn’s live rosin nectar is basically a weed-infused agave syrup. I recommend drizzling it over an açai bowl or some fresh fruit to add the perfect hint of sweetness. It’s also great for making cannabis-infused drinks at home. 

*ILGM - Beginner’s Grow Kit 

• Great for dads with green thumbs, this kit is a good option for anyone who wants to test the waters and get acclimated to growing weed without spending a bunch of money upfront or taking up a lot of space

  *Yaupon - Strawberry Zen

• If weed isn’t your dad’s thing, I recommend herbal tea because it’s full of natural antioxidants that our diets often lack. Rise Yaupon’s Strawberry Zen is my favorite, but the Healthy Kick has the most health benefits. It makes a mean mocktail. (It's easily infusible with the live rosin nectar.) 

FOR THE DANK DADS 

Snowtill Organics - Piescream

• No cannabis gift guide is complete without a fire flower recommendation, and Snowtill never disappoints. Piescream is best described as a ‘mind-numbing powerhouse of potency’ that exudes pungent notes of whipped cream and candied citrus. It’s an excellent choice for dads who love Myrcene-dominant strains. 

Bong Candles - Crossfade Stash Jar Candle 

• Practical and potent, crossfade candles exude a smooth scent similar to an old fashioned with hints of smokey vanilla laced with caramel and butterscotch that easily overpowers the smell of weed. And it’s multipurpose; the jars turn into a stash jar when you’re done.

Flower Mill - Next Gen Premium 2.0 Stainless Grinder

• What good is great weed if you’re going to mutilate it before you consume it? Splurging on a good grinder will always set you up for success. Flower Mill’s toothless grinders preserve the quality of your flower, producing a final product that’s pillowy, soft, and easy to pack or roll. 

*OCB - Brown Rice Bundle

• Similarly, there’s no point in buying top-shelf flowers to smoke them out of paper full of pesticides. Use a brand you trust, like OCB, which sustainably sources high-quality substrates. My favorite is the brown rice because it’s durable and has a silky mouthfeel while still preserving the natural flavor of the smoke. 

My Bud Vase - DeAngelo Bong

• Useful and aesthetic, this charcoal and copper bong blends into the background of any tasteful home space. Designed in honor of Steve DeAngelo, founder of the Last Prisoner Project, this vase embodies strength and conviction. It’s a thoughtful gift for dads who enjoy a tasteful bong rip. 

*S&B - Volcano Hybrid 

• The epitome of a stoner cult classic, the Volcano is essential for any dad trying to relive his glory days. It’s guaranteed to spice up your next family gathering when he passes around one of the notorious vapor-filled bags. Trust me, your Danksgiving will never be the same. 

FOR THE DADS WHO DAB 

Puffco - Proxy

• The Proxy is the superior portable dab device, in my humble opinion, partly because it looks like a vintage pipe. It’s a must-have for any concentrate connoisseur on the go, so you never have to show up to the sesh unprepared again. And it’s much more discreet than a bong rip.  

G Pen - Hyer Vaporizer

• If you’re more of a traditional dabber, this is a great option that offers the convenience of an electric rig while still using the glass piece of your choice. It’s a solid alternative to the bulky butane torch. 

Kayla - Papaya Bars Live Rosin 

• This cold cure rosin is to die for. Fruity and ferocious, it packs a powerful papaya-flavored punch that leaves you blissful and content. If you’re in California, it’s definitely worth the splurge.  

Green Dot - Cherry Lime Soda Live Badder

• Fizzy, flavorful, and fantastic—this strain is easily in my top five favorites of all time, which is not something I say lightly. Truly, it’s a must-try for all dab enthusiasts anytime you’re in Colorado. 

Cold Sweats - Grateful Dead Stash Pants 

• Made in small batches, these high-quality sweats are essential for any Deadhead dad who likes to dab. They even have a hidden pocket, so he can always keep his hash on deck. 

Truly Red Panda - Carhartt Side Bag 

• For dads who work hard! 😉This is the perfect bag to store your stash while you’re out and about this summer. Plus, it’s guaranteed to get you a sly approval from your fellow stoners.

Cool shit alert: SF Hash Week

Hot off the nail of San Francisco’s first-ever Weed Week comes Hash Week, which runs through the week of 7/10. Like its successful and soaked-in-good-vibes predecessor, the festivities will take place at dispensaries, galleries, and other venues around the city and are dedicated to all things oil, concentrates, and what have you along those lines (Today, we are not here to debate terminology, but if you’d like to, feel free to pitch me). These sure-to-be-iconic weeks were started by Leafly editor David Downs and a group of Bay Area merry pranksters, many of whom will be familiar names to readers of this letter.

Here’s a link to the full SF Hash Week 2024 event line-up, featuring seven hashmakers debuting seven new drops over seven days. I honestly don’t even know what to say about this event, except that I will 100% be flying up for at least one night of it. Kalya, Royal Key Organics, Arcata Fire, Nasha, Solful, 710, Holy Water, Oakland Extracts…if those names mean anything to you, you should be there. If they don’t, here’s your sign to get acquainted.

A last snap before we part ways…

• These Anwar Carrots x PlugPlay vapes are cute, as intended.

• (aka Clare Sausen) interviewed Kristen Bell on the red carpet for “Reefer Madness: The Musical.”

• Since we are talking a lot about dry herb vapes lately, Cara Wietstock at GreenState reviewed Planet of the Vapes’ handheld Lobo. She also compared vape types to specific personalities.

• I appreciate digests detailing ongoing Minnesota legislation:

  TLDR; “A first-of-its-kind lawsuit has been filed asserting that the state constitution protects the right of the home grower to sell their excess crops (in compliance with state cannabis laws).” He also shared this interview with the case’s lead lawyer, Jeff O’Brien, which discusses what is happening and why Minnesota’s quandary is legally unique.

• High on Plants released tie-dye rainbow weed leaf earrings for Pride. Use code JACKIE10 for 10% off!

• is publishing some of my favorite reporting on the ongoing federal hemp shitshow. In particular, they are pointing out the recurring voting stunts that Ron DeSantis likes to pull, this time with weed (a progressive law and public policy think tank also dug into how this public servant abuses his duties to his constituents).

• DONUT PIPES. Need I say more?

• Michigan sold more cannabis products in March 2024 than any other state ($22mm), dethroning the so-called “largest legal cannabis market in the world,” California ($21.3mm), for the first time in (recorded) history.

• To that point, California’s pot economy is crashing, says SFGate’s Lester Black. And, apparently, so is Colorado’s, reports Politico’s Mona Zhang.

Max Blickstein reports and opines from the Delmarva cannabis industry.

Is Congress finally seeing the light on the Harris Rider?

Last week, Rep. Dave Joyce, a Republican congressman from Ohio and the chair of the House Appropriations Financial Services and General Government (FSGG) Subcommittee proposed removing the Harris Rider from the fiscal year 2025 omnibus spending bill. For those unaware, the Harris Rider is the main obstacle preventing DC from spending taxes on a recreational legal market—in other words, it’s the reason why DC doesn’t have legal recreational weed.

In 2022, House Democrats used removing the Harris Rider as a bargaining chip, and cannabis advocates like me assumed that Democrats would keep doing so every year until Republicans decided just to let it slide.

While it's a significant step that the proposal has made past the FSGG, it is essential to remember the history of the Harris Rider being used for political leverage. The proposal’s fate is uncertain, and whether it will successfully navigate the Byzantine and often unpredictable legislative journey is unclear.

The logical progression of what happens after this vote is more complex. According to Marijuana Moment, this FSGG language doesn’t cover federal prosecutions of DOJ probes, and the wording on banking harkens back to Cole Memorandum double negatives that are worded in a way that prevents federal law enforcement agencies from spending money to prosecute financial institutions. The language doesn’t offer much in the way of protections, just some basic assurances the government is tired of spending its cash on enforcing cannabis, which, however true that may be, also means the industry is likely to see discrimination from payment processors still.

The FSGG subcommittee is just one step of a multi-step process for the bill to become law. It has to be made out by the Appropriations Committee and then approved by the House and Senate, including reconciliation between different versions of the budgets in the bill. And then, after all of that, maybe it will hit President Biden’s desk.

Though the earliest these changes happen is Jan. 1, 2025, the bill, as currently written, is quite predatory to DC residents. It includes items that infringe on reproductive healthcare, banning needle exchange, allowing for open carry of firearms in DC and the WMATA system, and prohibiting non-citizens from voting in DC elections, none of which would be up to Congress if DC were a state.

While we can hope the bill's predatory points don’t make it out of committee or past a House vote, instances like these are usually where the Harris Rider gets used as a bargaining chip. And to keep it very real, people in DC care more about the other protections and freedoms than we want legal recreational weed.

DC has had medical cannabis self-certification since 2022, and the data shows that despite the patient population doubling between April 2022 and April 2023, sales only spiked about 20%. Comparing April 2023 to April 2024, there was an 8% decrease in patient participation and a roughly 14% contraction in sales. To me, this shows that DC’s program lost its momentum, and Maryland’s sales numbers suggest that some of the folks who used to drive across the border for weed don’t do that anymore.

Mayor Bowser has made clear through her actions that she wants to keep catering to the large local operators like District Cannabis, Abatin, Capital City (Columbia) Care, and hero-that-lived-long-enough AltSol. Despite the new Tier 1 licenses awarded that allow up to 10,000 ft²  of canopy under the MCAA, advocates are still concerned that these medical producers won’t be able to remain competitive in the interstate commerce Schedule III fever dream. Many license awardees have since pulled out of the process after recognizing that there’s not much left for them after these bigger operators–all of whom have become regional brands—took their eight-year head start.

While many of us DC enthusiasts are excited at the prospect of more pathways to our favorite operators operating legally for everyone to enjoy, we also recognize that this is just one step in a staircase similar in enormity to the one that leads up to the Capitol. Just like any other surprisingly positive piece of political pot progress, we remain hopeful that it will go our way while also recognizing that this is likely just another chapter in the book of taxation without representation.

Follow Max here.

What I’m smoking lately: Wildland Cannabis Jelly Donutz

Honestly, this is more aptly titled: “Things I have smoked lately that are most definitely 100% gone.”

I was lucky to be graced with a delivery from deep in the Mendo woods a few months ago. The weed is grown by WildLand Cannabis, which is just east of Covelo. Specifically, it is grown near the Black Butte River on the south-facing slope of Anthony Ridge. The sungrown Jelly Rancher x White Runtz buds (among others) are tended in living soil with all-native and natural inputs.

The genetics for this cultivar, specifically, are from Humboldt Seed Co. It’s candy, it’s gas, and it’s also a strain that’s trichome-heavy, so it makes a beautiful washer that tests high in THC. I found the high to be energetic, euphoric, and physically heavy. It’s mid-afternoon hiking or water hole-finding weed for the experienced; for everyone else, this is an excellent cultivar to spark up alongside a true crime documentary.

Weed trend I am enjoying: Ice water/bubble hash in joints

Putting hash in joints is by no means a new thing, but inserting bubble hash, specifically, has become trendy in legal weed pre-rolls, and I couldn’t be happier. The aforementioned WildLand has a gorgeous version, as do 22Red and many other growers; those are the ones I have recently tried.

I also tried THC Design’s version, the brand’s first, which I saved for an evening when I could really savor it. The LA-based indoor brand infused one gram of their Crescendo strain into a pre-roll with Crescendo hash; “no shake, no sugar leaf, just 100% unmilled flower for optimal quality,” claims a press release for the joint.

It was delicious, and the quality checked out. The smoke hung low, as hash smoke should. If you encounter it in the wild, you should snag one for a special occasion.

On the delivery menu: Coming soon to Cannabitch is an inside look at a beautiful cannabis travel book; the prettiest luxury accessories collection available; weed and its place in romance novels; the weed scene in prison; a Father’s Day gifting guide; a new fortune telling column for the cannabis industry; musings on ongoing legislation; essays and art; and plenty more coming this summer.

One last snap before we part: Did you read my husband’s investigation in WIRED? It took him and staff reporter Dhruv Mehrotra a year to complete and revealed that a suburban city outside San Diego is the first to introduce a drone surveillance policing program. It’s worth a read to see a look at our new future. Sweet dreams!

As I delved into the Cannabitch archives the other night, a realization hit me like pulling from a four-foot-long bong. There’s been a shift in these letters lately; they’ve become very serious. We used to have a lot more fun. After all, we're talking about weed, the epitome of fun for me.

I believe weed aids creativity and that the types drawn to making the plant the center of their lives tend to be bizarre, beautiful, fascinating, deep-thinking (sometimes, lol), and controversial people. So we should pay attention to the art and/or yarns they make. I don’t think I’ve been doing that enough!

I will run this section on Saturdays whenever I have something to send (feel free to get involved if you’re a wordsmith or any other type of visual artist whose medium might fit here. Video? Music? Poetry?). It need not be about weed, just inspired by it, with some light but obvious connection. It’ll be called the Saturday Morning Sesh, intended to aid in waking and baking pleasure.

This first dispatch is from writer , who has a Pynchon/Thompson-esque brain in his body and pen in his hand (fingers on the keyboard, whatever). This week, he wrote this hilarious, prescient, and genius screed for High Times about how Hunter Biden would be his Sobriety Hall Pass pick (he is sober from all intoxicating substances in this period of his life!). Pat’s produced weed at all levels of the growing supply chain, is a graduate of Humboldt State, and he’s made hash, too. It’s a wacky love letter to hashmaking, and if you know hash people, then you know. All absolute nutters. We salute you.

Picture, if you will, a dirt road.

It's not just any dirt road; it's the most pothole-laden dirt road humankind has ever conceived of or built. Your 2004 Hyundai Sonata with 191,000 clicks on it nearly falls off the side of the hill as you climb and climb and climb and climb all the way up to the top of the mythical Hash Mountain. You mightn't even know it was there if you weren’t looking right at it.

Giant towering redwood and pine trees line the dirt road. It feels as if they are judging you as you lumber up the road at about five to ten miles per hour. At the end of this road is a house. Cannabis plants surround the house in a delightfully haphazard fashion, which indicates that the home’s owner expanded his plant count similarly over the years. Looking closely, you can almost see where prices rose and fell in the maze of 150-gallon smart pots.

Out of the house walks a lanky man about six feet one inch or six feet two inches. He’s wearing a faded T-shirt with the logo of some mysterious and likely long-bankrupt hash brand from the days of yore. The man cracks a smile of crooked teeth, teeth that have never known the loving touch of an orthodontist. He immediately invites you inside for a dab. There is absolutely no time to waste.

The dab is easily 0.4 grams, maybe even a full half, which the hash maker knows is too big for the likes of you, but you go all in because, hey, when in Rome. Your soul leaves your body entirely as you cough like a shrieking banshee and hack up ancient phlegm that probably entered your lungs during the Great Recession. The hashmaker laughs as he does the same treatment without breaking a sweat. 

“Time to work,” the man tells you, indicating in such a tone that your presence would likely not be welcome without a little free labor. It would be impolite not to lend a hand.

You enter the cold room, which is basically a regular bedroom lined with Home Depot insulating foam, and kept calm with a window AC unit sketchily attached to a translucent blue device via tin foil. The numbers on the device emit a neon glow, casting an eerie shadow over the room, which makes it feel like it could be used for much more sinister and Dexter-ish purposes. But you try not to dwell on that because you don't have much recourse this far into the middle of nowhere. Best to stay positive. 

You are handed a paddle with bite marks taken out of a portion of the handle, likely chewed up by the hashmaker’s Rottweiler affectionately and aptly named “Pussy.” There is also a Border Collie named “Killer” who is not allowed to be around strangers after that whole incident with the trimmers last season. Poor girl still doesn’t have full mobility in her left hand.

You spend the afternoon performing backbreaking labor. You lift trash cans full to the brim with cold hash water and hold the giant mesh bags full of weed, waiting for what seems like hours for the water to drain, all the while able to feel the skin literally peel off your fingertips from the cold air. You spill water all over your shoes as the hash maker laughs that any real hashmaker has his or her pair of galoshes ready to deploy at any given moment. 

In fact, there was an excess of talk that afternoon about what designates a real hashmaker instead of a fake one. You can’t help but feel that the hashmaker doesn’t actually like many other hash brands, but you suppose that’s just healthy competition‌. 

You leave that day physically exhausted and high as a helicopter, invigorated with a newfound appreciation for hash. You are determined to discover more, so you will do some due diligence on Instagram. You find a Whole New World scored by the little mermaid and all her stoned aquatic friends of artwork, events, and culture, swirling like a bloody hurricane around one short but potent and satisfying word: hash. 

Hash coins, pins, prints, blotters, jars, jar labels, rips, pipes, hats, and haters—the word becomes nearly meaningless as you fall down the beautiful tie-dyed rabbit hole of the hash community. 

Before you know it, you’re smoking the most expensive jars you can find from elusive and exclusive hash makers—reclusive and skittish hermits who only show their faces once a year on the harvest moon. Little is known about many of them; much is expected. Legend has it they all carry the same scowl, for they all detest how little their sweat and toil provides for them‌ in the end. 

These beautiful men and women all share the same crooked smile and the same minor scowl, for they give so much of their love and energy to these crooked little trichome heads and the accompanying water-soluble minor cannabinoids that cannot love them back - or maybe it can, but only for as long as the high lasts. The resin can’t stare back. It can’t see us; we can only see it. We can’t help the hash. Hash can only help us, and that’s tragic and beautiful at the same time. I wonder if those little trichome heads know how obsessed we are - the ones who stare at resin. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to say a proper thank you. 

Hash, if you’re reading this, we love you. Thnks fr th Mmrs, or lack thereof.

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A quick last snap before we part:

Read this Rolling Stone piece: “Phish Fan Banned from Sphere for Taking Bong Rip: ‘No Regrets’” by Miles Klee

No promises, but I have reached out to the bongsman, a self-proclaimed “Sour Diesel fan for life,’” in hopes of securing a chat for this very newsletter. Stay tuned.