Did someone lose their dope? It's in this tin seen on SW Ash & 3rd. (AND NO, I DIDN'T SMOKE IT.)
If you haven't watched comedian Nathan Fielder's verrrrry funny Comedy Central show Nathan For You... watch it! It's verrrry funny. And now Nathan's being even more funny by asking his Twitter followers to play the following prank on their parents:
Experiment: text your parents "got 2 grams for $40" then right after "Sorry ignore that txt. Not for you" Then tweet pic of their response.— nathan fielder (@nathanfielder) April 24, 2013
The results are HILARIOUS!! Hit the jump for my two faves and read even more here!
Burnt out on the rap scene that made him rich and famous, Snoop Dogg—as you might recall—recently made a pilgrimage to Jamaica. His intention was to submit himself to a professional and spiritual overhaul, as well as record a Diplo-produced reggae record. You might think of a spiritual journey as a somewhat private affair, but Snoop also used his time there to team up with Vice and co-produce a feature-length documentary of the whole adventure. The result is Reincarnated, screening this Wednesday at 7 pm at the Clinton Street Theater:
You have to appreciate the humor in the fact that Snoop's big plan to completely reinvent himself revolved around smoking even more weed. And while not a perfect institution, Vice has made some very compelling international documentaries, shining a light on the dark corners of places most of us will never see. Snoop takes us through communities troubled by poverty and police violence, learning the lifestyle and philosophies of the Rastafari—but make no mistake that this is a movie by, for, and about Snoop, and that's Snoop Lion to you now, thanks.
Washington state is in a dither over how to deal with now-legal recreational dope smokers driving around stoned out of their gourds—AS WELL THEY SHOULD BE. So in the name of "journalism"—let's stop and giggle about that for a moment... giggle. Giggle. Giggle.—Seattle's KIRO news asked three volunteers to get increasingly and completely baked and then drive around a closed course, accompanied by a cop. And the results may NOT surprise you! In fact, everything that you expect to happen does happen, and the drivers' ability to operate their vehicles safely disintegrates with every puff, puff, pass.
HOWEVER! I will admit that baked drivers are funnier than drunk drivers—as proven by test subject Addy, who runs her smart cute mouth during the entire demo, AND showed up to the test already high! Here's her extended cut, and you can watch the other participants here.
Like we all knew would happen, the Portland City Council yesterday officially moved up a referendum on putting fluoride in the water to May 2013—a full year earlier than fluoride foes had been hoping for when they went out gathering tens of thousands of signatures in hopes of summarily ending the whole affair.
It was a 3-1 vote, with Commissioner Dan Saltzman out on an excused absence and Commissioner Amanda Fritz, concerned about low turnout and a rushed campaign, voting a full-throated NO. The vote also marked an official send-off for Mayor Sam Adams and Commissioner Randy Leonard, both of whom are stepping down in 10 days. And, like every other fluoride hearing to date, it didn't disappoint. In fact, it was pretty much just like every fluoride hearing to date, because everyone pretty much said pretty much the same things they said every other time.
I was live-tweeting it all yesterday. I got punchy. Enjoy some highlights.
Naturally, that could be a problem for Portland cops charged with upholding Oregon's more draconian (by comparison) drug laws. And if it's a problem for Portland cops, that means it also could be a problem for you if you don't watch what you're doing.
Fortunately, our cops have assembled a handy guide meant to advise any law-abiding Oregonian who can't pass up a chance to head a few miles north and legally "consume pot."
Here's the headline: "Much like existing fireworks laws, what is legal in Washington is not legal in Oregon, In other words, if it goes high in the air or gets you high, you should probably use it in the Evergreen State."
Catch the rest on the jump.
"I Know What to Do" is not merely tender declaration of affection; it's a compelling, investigative look at biology and reproduction from a Darwinian standpoint, as well as a Hobbesian treatise on the equality of all humanity. "When she's taking off my pants I know what to do," sings Erik Gage, proclaiming that love is no elitist activity or learned affectation—that all persons shall know, when the time presents itself, precisely what they need to do with their junk.
A little bit more about the shoot, as described on the ITW site: "The night before, Rikky puked in the Jack in the Box parking lot and then washed his wallet inside his pants at 5 AM. He showed up late and insisted they do no more than two takes per song. It was the first sunny Saturday in Portland for like six months, and we all got day-stoned."
The only problem I have with this video is that they only play one song and it's over in like a minute.
When Fiona Apple played at the Schnitz a couple months ago, we worried. Worried about her slight frame (made more obvious in comparison to her strong, piano-built hands), stringy hair, and childish demeanor (t-shirt cape, anyone?). And while it's not at all surprising, I wasn't particularly worried about her being arrested for hash (and a little bit of weed) while driving through the podunk Texas town of Sierra Blanca, the same place where folks like Willie Nelson and Snoop Dogg have been similarly foibled. Her performance was easily in the the top 10 of my all-time favorites, and I worry that the people of Austin—where she is scheduled to perform tonight—are going to wind up deprived because of the dysfunctional display of celebrity worship this particular jurisdiction seems to be in the habit of. She's currently in the clink at Hudspeth County Jail, where officers will no doubt force her to pose for with them like they did with Snoop. Let her go, jerks! Pot's no biggie! Maybe it will giver her munchies, which she desperately needs. Look at how these prison rags are like 400 times too big:
UPDATE! TMZ is now reporting that 1) Apple freely admitted the drugs were hers when drug-sniffing dogs found it 2) It was .01 pound of hash and .01 pound of weed—which, as Ned pointed out, they probably had to round up to 3) She was released on a $10,000 bond, which is a fucking ridiculous amount of money for a piddling amount of a relatively innocuous drug.
Science is amazing. Last week I read this New York Times article about an exciting new treatment for dementia and brain damage. Let me explain the experiment:
1.) Scientists teach a monkey to play the game of Memory. Apparently they're pretty good at it.
2.) Scientists give the monkey some cocaine so it'll be less good at the game Memory.
3.) Scientists implant a computer chip in the monkey's brain that gives back some of the Memory playing ability that the cocaine so cruelly snatched.
On Friday, I was pleased about scientific progress. Humans can do almost anything.
Three days later I was sipping coffee when a thought struck me. HOLY SHIT SCIENTISTS ARE GIVING MONKEYS COCAINE!!?!
I readily admit these monkeys got what they deserved. No doubt they were getting a little too big for their monkey britches about being able to find two cards with apples on them. But cocaine? Really? That's so dangerous. I've seen, first hand, the way cocaine can ruin lives. Okay, in this instance, I'm referring to watching Boogie Nights as "first hand."
Surely, I thought, these must be rogue scientists, going against the establishment with their sinister monkey/coke experiments.
In 2008, scientists put monkeys in stressful social situations. Then they gave the monkeys the choice between tasty delicious snacks and tasty delicious COCAINE! The cool monkeys ate the snacks. The sad, unpopular monkeys were way more likely to do the coke. Maybe that helped us learn about human behavior, or maybe not. But what we can't deny is that coke-fueled monkey parties took place and you can't take that away from me.
Even better, two years ago, several republican senators were attacking the "wasteful spending" in the president's stimulus bill. Some of them were especially upset about funding a monkey-cocaine study. Uh, hello? It is called the "stimulus" bill for a reason.
What is everybody angry about? So $.03 of my tax money goes up a monkey's nose? Is there a check box on my 1040 where I can double that? Hell, I'd go as high as $.25 if the scientists studied the effect on glutamates of monkeys... that did coke off the back of monkey hookers.
Okay, we've had a lot of fun here today. Remember when I used the phrase "monkey hookers"? Good times. But in truth, a monkey getting high as balls on cocaine is no joke. It makes the monkey very sad when he comes down. And it makes his chubby roommate, who has to listen to all his crazy coke stories, even sadder.
The pot activists behind Measure 80—AKA the Oregon Cannabis Tax Act—have unveiled a very vocal new supporter, the campaign announced today: Soon-to-retire City Commissioner Randy Leonard.
"As a career Portland firefighter, a State Legislator and a Portland City Council member, I have always fought for funding for our first responders and resources for our social safety net,” Leonard said in a statement emailed by the Measure 80 campaign. “Regulating and taxing marijuana for adults is just common sense, because it allows us to get pot out of kids' hands, focus our public-safety resources on dangerous drugs, creates jobs and provide a new revenue stream to fund much-needed social services."
Will it help? That's unclear. Pot measures have historically had a rough time with voters, that is, when they even make the ballot. Measure 80, its backers say, might fare a little differently. It would legalize growing, selling, and regulating cannabis and hemp in the state—going beyond other half-step measures that would have merely tweaked the medicinal marijuana system.
Seeing that Leonard is months away from retirement after a decades-long political career, I called him up to ask whether this means he might be coming out of the closet as a proud pot smoker.
"You might want to hold on a second here. I wanted to open a bag of Fritos. Transfat-free Fritos. With fluoridated salt," he joked. "Don't ask. Don't tell."
Of course, then he did tell.
"I don't smoke marijuana," he said. "But in all seriousness, it's always struck me, as it does many people, and I would guess most Oregonians, why is it that alcohol is okay and marijuana is not, when arguably more crimes are fuel by alcohol per capita than ever even is envisioned by people who use marijuana. Anything used in excess can be harmful. But it was one of those cultural throwbacks that has never made a lot of sense to me."
Leonard isn't the first Portland politico to throw his lot with pot activists. His favorite political punching bag, former Mayor Tom Potter, cut an ad for a pro-dispensary measure back in 2010.
So can you get the weed back? It's legal, right?
Well, last week for an upcoming cover story, photographer Nicolle Clemetson and I toured the place where your pot—and thousands of pounds of other peoples' pot—winds up: The police property and evidence warehouse. This giant building in NW Portland mostly feels like an IKEA warehouse full of stolen goods, but the weed room (accessible only by pressing two keycards to pads on two separate walls simultaneously) feels different. It feels more like a tomb, with burlap sacks full of pot plants hanging ominously from meathooks.
All of this pot will be destroyed. That's right, every ounce of pot that winds up in police hands will be incinerated (and not, ha ha, in the usual way).
Until this winter, if your Oregon-legal weed was confiscated, you could file a request for the return of your property and the police would return it, just like if your bike or shoes or any other property had been confiscated but was no longer needed for a case. But in January, Oregon Attorney General John Kroger's office wrote an opinion (pdf) that the federal Controlled Substances' Act supersedes the state law compelling officers to return property. If an officer does return confiscated weed, Kroger's office determined they could be subject to federal criminal prosecution. So now all the weed is destroyed—one more casualty of the legal mess that results from the conflict between state and federal laws around marijuana.
Check out more about the doomed marijuana and other strange objects from the police evidence room in next week's paper.
A careful viewer shared this with us, saying he noticed something familiar in this campaign ad by New Mexico Governor Gary Johnson, running for president this fall as the Libertarian candidate: the Ross Dress for Less in downtown Portland—defended by a phalanx of riot cops, presumably during some kind of Occupy protest.
It's about 1:07 or so into the video and lasts only for a few seconds.
Why Portland? Why not? It must've been because of how scary our riot cops look when compared to cops in other cities. Because I just don't think of this as a place where the state and local goons might be coming in to take away sick people's medicine, etc.
The unceasing iced coffee-slurping of Mary-Louise Parker on TV's Weeds, assembled into a supercut.
Thank you, Vulture.
... and wonders aloud (as we all do), "What is drugs?" Also: "Cuff 'em and stuff 'em!" (There is so much joy to be had in this 40 second clip.)
BuzzFeed has gone through David Maraniss's upcoming Obama biography and pulled out the pot-smoking parts. There are quite a few pot-smoking parts:
When you were with Barry and his pals, if you exhaled precious pakalolo (Hawaiian slang for marijuana, meaning "numbing tobacco") instead of absorbing it fully into your lungs, you were assessed a penalty and your turn was skipped the next time the joint came around. "Wasting good bud smoke was not tolerated," explained one member of the Choom Gang, Tom Topolinski, the Chinese-looking kid with a Polish name who answered to Topo.
I expect that Fox News will immediately begin warning their viewers about the crippling effects of inhaling marijuana smoke just once in your life.
So the other day I was just settling onto my couch when BLAM—there was a loud explosion and flash of light outside my window. My first thought was "bomb," my next thought was "car explosion (again)," (I had a car's engine explode outside my window once, but that was a different apartment—it's not like in the movies!), but when I looked outside the cloud of smoke surrounded not a car, but a bush outside the apartments across the street.
"Shake 'n' bake!" my fiancé proudly pronounced. "Meth! I heard about it on NPR." Obviously, we are yuppies, so instead of crossing the street to find out what happened (it was clear that nobody was hurt), I googled "meth shake 'n' bake" and tweeted about how it scared my cats. For your edification:
Those ingredients include things like drain cleaner, lithium batteries and pseudoephedrine — a decongestant in cold medications such as Sudafed. Easy access to these ingredients means more methamphetamine addicts are making the drug themselves. They're using a method known as "shake and bake"—and often winding up in hospital burn wards... The shake-and-bake method involves mixing everything together in a plastic bottle and then shaking, cooling and venting the container as you go. Do it right, and you end up with at least several grams of meth in less than an hour; do it wrong, and you can find yourself holding an explosive fireball of corrosive chemicals.
And anyway, the neighborhood busybodies were on it, and when one of them crossed the street to quiz the guy—who I've never met, but just looks like your average rocker dude, and who did not appear to be panicking (in fact he was cool as a cucumber), nor did what seemed to be the two girls and maybe one other guy in there—she came back with her faced screwed up skeptically saying, "He said something caught fire in the kitchen so he threw it outside." Where it EXPLODED in a fiery ball of light.
Soon after, like five cop cars, an ambulance, and the fire department were there, with everyone circling around and examining the explosion spot. The ambulance and fire trucks left pretty quickly, but one of the cops stayed for quite a while talking to everyone assembled in the apartment. But... nobody left in handcuffs.
Consider: I maybe saw someone leave the apartment right after the explosion, but I can't be sure. I definitely saw Rocker Dude cleaning up post-explosion, moving the dirt around with his shoe before the cops got there. But "corrosive chemicals" sound hard to clean up quickly and in front of gawking neighbors. And yet... what else could it have been? Was he deep-frying M80s? Would the cops really just let people go for making meth in an apartment building? I don't particularly want to get the guy in trouble (though I don't particularly want chemical explosions happening across the street, either), I'm just curious. Given the evidence, what do you think happened?
This month's cortandfatboy Midnight Movie is Paul Thomas Anderson's 1997 epic Boogie Nights, a film that rattled my 17-year-old brain pretty hard when I first saw it in a Salt Lake City multiplex. Anderson's still one of my favorite filmmakers, and Boogie Nights—made when he was 26 years old—is still a hell of thing. Last night, in fact, I recorded an audio commentary for the film alongside Cort, Fatboy, film critic Mike Russell, and comedian Big Jim Willig, and I said practically nothing on it, because once the movie started playing I got sucked right in—even though all those dudes were audio commentating all over the the dialogue and soundtrack, the film's visuals were enough to make me tune out everything else. It's a dark, weird, sad, funny saga, and even when it doesn't fire on all cylinders, it's well worth rewatching. So you should probably go see the movie tonight, and I'm not just saying that 'cause the Mercury's one of the sponsors. I'm mostly saying that because, you know. Dirk Diggler on the big screen, if you catch my drift.
Boogie Nights, Bagdad Theater, 3702 SE Hawthorne, 11 pm, $3, 21+
Check out this positively hysteric anti-pot PSA from the '80s starring an extremely frustrated David Hasselhoff (as Michael Knight from Knight Rider) and KITT—who really needs to have his "CPU" checked out!
Today in confusing news: The 400-pound deer statue that was lifted from the front yard of a Beaverton dental office earlier this month has been found. But not all in one piece. No—the poor bronze deer was chopped into seemingly systematic bits. Why, you ask? Here's a possible answer: 39-year-old Chad Ferguson was not only arrested for theft of the statue, but also for possession of methamphetamine. The original owners of the deer already have plans to stick it back together and put it back where it rightfully belongs.
The Portland Police Bureau released the total number of drug seizures in the first two months of 2012 today. The results?
— 32 grams of powder cocaine
— 30 grams of crack cocaine
— 3,356 grams of heroin (7.4 pounds)
— 807 grams of methamphetamine
— 89,239 grams of dried marijuana (196 pounds)
— 1,178 marijuana plants
— a grand total of $2.7 million (street value, of course) in narcotics and over $130,000 in cash
Whack. According to Sergeant Pete Simpson, these totals blow last year's January/February tallies out of the water, due to the bureau's Drug and Vice Division's focus on a larger investigation.
So those persistent pro-weed petition-wavers lurking on SE Hawthorne are getting somewhere. This week, the Campaign for Sensible Law Enforcement hit a mile marker in their push to legalize marijuana in the state: Collecting over 50,000 signatures on their petition for an amendment. The constitutional amendment would legalize personal use of marijuana for those 21 and over, provided their actions don't endanger children or public safety.
“We are on track to make the ballot in November. We are pleased that Oregon voters will have a chance to put an end to the expensive waste of law enforcement resources that marijuana prohibition requires and the criminal activity it causes,” said Chief Petitioner Robert Wolfe.
The measure needs about 116,000 valid signatures by July 6 to qualify for the November election, which Wolfe seems to see as an easy feat.
This Thursday, the Northwest Film Center kicks off a series I'm super stoked about: Driven: The Films of Nicolas Winding Refn, which boasts every single film made by one of my favorite filmmakers. Starting with Refn's grimy, bloody Pusher trilogy (Pusher , Pusher II: With Blood on My Hands , and Pusher III: I'm the Angel of Death ), the series continues with his 2003 flick Fear X, his breakthrough 2008 film Bronson, 2009's grim-as-fuck Viking horrorshow Valhalla Rising, and his best film to date, 2011's Drive, which you'll remember because I haven't shut up about it for roughly the past year.
None of these films are for the weak of heart; all of them are totally worth watching.
The series runs through March 18, and tickets to each screening are $9—but thanks to the fact that the Film Center knows I'm a just a little bit in love with Refn, they've given me some passes to award to a lucky Blogtown reader. I've got nine passes sitting here on my desk—meaning if you win 'em, you can go see every single one of the movies I just listed for free. Or! You can take eight friends to go see any one of those films! Or! You can go to all of them, and then take a plus one to two of them, too! (Take your mom to Pusher III! She'll love it!) Look, you're good at math. You can figure out all the permutations. Nine passes, seven movies. The choice is yours.
To try and win the passes, just email me no later than 4:30 pm PST today (Tuesday, March 6), and make sure "Valhalla" is your subject line. I'll pick a winner at around 4:30 and email them to let 'em know how to get their passes.
That's it. GO.
DEPT. OF CORRECTIONS: In the comments, reliable know-it-all "PeretDesnos" notes that the Film Center's series doesn't include Refn's 1999 film Bleeder. Thanks for the reminder, PeretDesnos; everybody else, CONSIDER YOURSELF INFORMED.
Snoop Dogg has endorsed Ron Paul on his Facebook page. The entirety of his endorsement consists of a pink-tinted photo of Ron Paul with the words "SMOKE WEED EVERYDAY" typed above it. Below the photo, Snoop Dogg explains the logic behind his endorsement: "because i said so."
That settles that, then.
So writes Metafilter about this from-the-vaults IHOP commercial (which might make you want to revisit acid, but not revisit IHOP.)
Then the Marijuana Policy Project says in an email blast, "Ron Paul is obviously the best candidate. In fact, his views toward marijuana policy and the drug war are so much better than President Obama’s views that—if you’re a single-issue, drug-policy voter—you’d need to vote for Ron Paul."
Yeah, I'm all for ending the idiotic war on pot, but I'm not not a single-issue voter. You could tie me to a flaming faggot of marijuana stalks and I still wouldn't vote for Ron Paul. I'm not sure which is more obnoxious: the gold-standard-yapping, down-with-the-fed, ignore-the-UN, anti-gay, anti-choice candidate or the left-wing, idiot suckers who now serve as his bigot-defense brigade just because he talks a good line on legalizing weed.
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