Stories from memory Thanks

Currency is simply the medium of exchange for goods and services. This means that anything can be currency if enough people value “something”. Something like cannabis, for example, could easily be used as a means of payment with a market value in fiat currency. In other words, you know how much a gram of cannabis costs in dollars – which means that nowadays you could literally swap all your money for cannabis and still technically get by with ease.

When I was younger, I went without fiat currency for about three months because I had a few kilos of premium weed (for the time) in my apartment. At the time I was living with my brother and a friend and we were buying weed in bulk because we found a distributor. This was in the early 2000’s when cannabis was still very illegal everywhere and prohibition was in full swing, ready to fuck you at any opportunity. The three of us were adventurous stoners experimenting with a range of drugs ranging from psychedelics like LSD, shrooms, peyote to just about anything we could find.

It wasn’t the most “responsible” time of my life and if I had to do it all over again – I probably would still do it – but probably wouldn’t have experimented with pharmaceutical drugs like benzos. This shit will kill you!

However, being young and fresh out of high school, there wasn’t much capital in my bank account. However, what we lacked in money we made up for in value, in that we knew the people who were bringing weed into the state and got insane discounts on bulk purchases.

It was my brother who met the guy at a party one day and hit it off. A few months later he invited us to one of the most seedy parts of the city where we attracted attention in the neighborhood. I can still feel my heart pounding in my throat just thinking about the uncertainty of every moment. I felt like we were being watched from the moment we stepped onto the street where he lived until the moment we left. Police in pick-up trucks patrolled the neighborhood, which “Cuba” (the guy) didn’t seem too bothered about. Apparently he had paid her off.

If you look at his “home” the place looks rather uninviting. The windowless concrete house conveyed the feeling of knowing pain and suffering. However, it also had a pungent cannabis smell emanating from its core. Being young and already so deep in the belly of the beast, the only logical next step was to go inside – and we did.

I honestly can’t remember what we talked about with Cuba, because when I entered the house, I saw brick upon brick of some fine cannabis. There were weeds in every closet, stacked to the roof. This was the first time I saw so much weed in one place and I was amazed. It’s too bad you simultaneously feel like you should get the fuck out of there before the FBI breaks down the door and puts you in jail for the rest of your life. Nevertheless – we stayed there as long as it was necessary. We ended up paying Cuba $50 for 3 pounds of very good weed.

It was a bit shabby, but compared to the weed that was circulating on the market at the time, this weed was a choice.

As we pulled away in the dead skunk smelling car, we smoked cigarettes and avoided eye contact with anyone as we drove all the way to the other end of town. Luckily we got back without incident.

At home we were able to estimate our summer supply and fill accordingly. We created three stacks, each stack representing a month. It didn’t take long for other people to know we had a lot of good weed, so people started showing up. At first it was a few friends here and there, but eventually our friends brought friends.

Sometimes we would smoke and people would bring pizza or beer almost as an offering to get into the area. Eventually you would go to sleep with a group of people hanging out at your house and wake up with a whole different group of people hanging out at your house. This perennial summer smoke fest has cultivated its own atmosphere and my brother, Brian and I were right in the thick of it. Sometimes a week or two would pass without having to leave the house.

Cannabis became our medium of exchange. People came to hang out with us and smoke, sometimes take a joint – but we specifically told people we weren’t selling weed. However, we would share with those who would add value to the environment. And so we spent an entire summer eating, drinking, partying, and smoking weed, and most of the time not touching “money.”

Of course, this form of currency isn’t exactly how money works – we created more of a commune that works with an entirely different medium of exchange, but the Trailer Park Boys did a good job of capturing the idea of ​​cannabis as a currency can be.

Ricky Hash Coins – YouTube

If you’ve ever wondered if money grows on trees, cannabis seems to come closest to that saying. To paraphrase Ricky of the Trailer Park Boys, “I don’t need any more money… money can suck my beeper!”

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