Only, unlike the rest of those shackled in servitude, I’d venture to say that my job probably doesn’t suck nearly as bad. I am a freelance writer, the smut and weed correspondent for various national publications across the country, including this one. There’s no one at the office where I work to hassle me if I show up late, walk around without pants or use the crapper eight times before 9 am. In other words, I am the king of the castle. This also means that I am fully responsible for the whole damn kingdom: Rent, bills, and any legal matters that may come up, that’s all on me, pal. Nobody is going to swoop in and save the day if I happen to get caught in a jam.
Don’t get me wrong, though. There are plenty of perks to the job. Free weed is one of them. Public relations agencies are always sending me the latest, greatest pot products in hopes that I’ll give them a rave review. I get a slew of packages every week. It’s like Christmas all year round. Sometimes it’s a brand-spanking new, expensive smoking device—not yet released to the public—other times it’s CBD, and often enough it’s marijuana. While this might seem like a pretty sweet deal to most people, all of this complimentary cannabis can actually cause a bit of a problem on my end. For starters, I live in the prohibition state of Indiana—getting caught with a small amount can lead to thousands of dollars in fines and jail time. It’s also a federal drug offense to get cannabis through the U.S. mail, a felony, so Uncle Sam could bend me over big time.
But when I sat …
Author: Mike Adams / High Times