As the end of the year 2022 approaches and we begin the cusp of 2023, I write this story in hopes that most of us in the cannabis industry will reflect on the lessons A Christmas Carol has ingrained in all of us. Most in the emerging cannabis industry probably feel akin to Bob Cratchit, trying to feed our Tiny Tim’s while quietly, or not so quietly resenting those Scrooges at the top. 

For the purpose of this article, the amount of cannabis companies that went under in the past calendar year will be metaphorically representing the chained ghost of Jacob Marley. Jacob Marley, who warned Ebenezer Scrooge, who will be for the sake of this article representing corporate cannabis, that he was going to be visited by three ghosts. 

If The Ghost of Christmas Past arrived to show Scrooge his cannabis past, they’d probably point to the commotion, panic, and disruption caused by Toronto-based cannabis company Ghost Drops. A company who in the matter of a year, seemingly outsmarted the competition, dominated retail sales, and changed the narrative of weed in Canada forever. They did so simply by being true to what they believe and who they are. 

The Ghost of Christmas Past would convey that until Ghost Drops came along, much of the cannabis industry in Canada was focused on the old narratives first set out by giant billion-dollar licensed producers. “Educating” the public by telling them that anyone involved in weed before legalization was a bunch of hippies, thugs, and stoners hiding in the shadows or under stairwells.

As much as they were right about us, The Ghost of Christmas Past would also point out that the hippies, thugs, stoners, and shadowy stair-dwellers thought of corporate cannabis as overspending predatory investors. A bunch of shiny-shoed idiots who thought they could outsmart the “legacy market” by selling mid-grade cannabis at premium pricing. Not realizing that the consumer could tell the difference even if they couldn’t. 

I guess in hindsight we were both right.

However, the intended spirit of this piece is to come together. Not continue to point fingers, sabotage, or work against each other in the cannabis industry. After all, the lessons we learn in any industry are transferable. A sentiment that has always rang true with the founders of Ghost Drops. 

The Ghost Drops of Christmas Past

The story of Ghost Drops starts with John Durante and Travis “Organik” Fleetwood and dates back to their early days growing up in Bolton, Ontario. A small blue collar town with small blue collar town problems. Both Fleetwood and Durante started hustling as young kids—as most in small towns do. 

As a teenager, Fleetwood found a love for hip-hop and started battle rapping on the internet, pre-social-media. Fleetwood’s passion for limericks found him success as a self-professed “skinny white kid”. He quickly made a name for himself on the internet and began competing. He even made it as far as battling at the BET Spring Bling, which he won in 2009, but didn’t receive honors due to not fitting their target demographic. However, Fleetwood considers being underestimated as a youth a pivotal point in helping him build drive and character. “My greatest feature is continuously being underestimated,” he said.

With little direction, Durante took a different path and joined the military when he was 19 and served for four years. In the military is where he found the rewards of discipline, hard work, and perseverance. Little did both know, they were developing the transferable skills that would later help them to build a wildly successful cannabis company. 

During this time, Fleetwood had launched what became the King of The Dot (KOTD). Battle rap showcases and competitions that would turn the heads of not only the best in Canadian hip-hop, but demanded the attention of the international rap community as well. KOTD steadily grew to be one of the biggest battle rap leagues in the world, showcasing some of the best talent hip-hop had to offer, gaining global respect, and eventually making content deals with Amazon. 

When Durante finished serving in the military, the two childhood friends reunited. King Of The Dot had blown up and Durante was finding success in construction. However, cannabis was always a true passion for both of them. 

In 2017, the two lifelong friends secretly started Ghost Drops. Both had experience hustling, but they wanted to start something creative while curating a unique experience for the cannabis consumer. The idea was to start a weed company that would feature and highlight the true rockstars of cannabis: growers, cultivators, and the seed-crackers. The ones who would risk it all to bring the best cannabis to the masses. They would represent the best cultivators and the cultivators could remain ghosts, hence the name, Ghost Drops. The two brought new attention to award-winning cultivators by assigning custom art, “illustrations,” and design to each of their grow  partners.

Ghost Drops’ reputation became an institution in street-level cannabis in Toronto and they quickly grew a national following, serving their massive customer base largely by mail order. 

Ghost Drops online model functioned as a hub connecting their reputable growers with a new audience, something Fleetwood already knew how to build from his time with KOTD. Fleetwood and Durante continued to grow Ghost Drops, but never affiliated publicly so as to not complicate their already complicated lives. 

Ghost Drops continued to operate in this fashion until they came across Gene Bernaudo in late 2020. 

Bernaudo had previously been the President of The Ignite Corporation—a corporation which is famously affiliated with the ever-polarizing figure Dan Bilzerian, who, in your humble narrator’s opinion, presents more as someone who should be selling cocaine rather than cannabis.

Bernaudo managed to build a global network under the Ignite banner until he decided to look for something new. He was then introduced to Durante and Fleetwood by a mutual friend. His interest piqued as he had always wanted to be in cannabis, and that wasn’t the direction Ignite had taken. 

Bernaudo saw major potential in taking Ghost Drops’ gray market platform to the legalized market.

The two parties began to feel each other out. A vetting process which was briefly held back when Bernaudo suggested that Fleetwood and Durante go public as the faces behind Ghost Drops. A proposal that isn’t generally attractive to black market weed dealers. 

A testament to Bernaudo’s ingenuity, Durante and Fleetwood agreed to move forward and the group had seriously begun working together by early 2021. 

With Bernaudo on board the team now had the know-how to bring Ghost Drops to the legalized cannabis market. They had a plan on how to scale the operation, and they wanted to include everyone in the industry. A sentiment that struck a huge chord with Bernaudo, as being a pioneer in legal cannabis doesn’t come without battle scars, “What Ghost Drops was doing was catering to the consumer, not like the rest of the industry, who were catering to their balance,” Bernaudo said. 

The Ghost Drops of Christmas Present

With a like-minded approach, the new team set out to build Ghost Drop 2.0: the beginning of the Ghost Drops we see today. They would become the first Canadian cannabis company to launch with pre-existing brand loyalty and the differentiator of deliberate transparency. 

Through pre-existing partnerships, Bernaudo had the means to create a business structure with plans to bring quality genetics and curated products that they not only wanted to put in market, but felt deserved attention. Through well-vetted contract growing, Ghost Drops would build an infrastructure with micro-cultivators, and established licensed producers alike. This would severely reduce the company’s overhead and give Ghost Drops more control of their messaging and experience. A model that many current upstarts have begun to emulate if not copy exactly. 

Rumors swarmed the cannabis industry around what these legacy “Ghost Drop guys” were up to. 

A common falsehood that spread was that Ghost Drops didn’t care about packaging fines, so they put out fluorescent pink jars as a fuck you to compliance, challenging asinine color restrictions set forth in Bill C-45’s (Canada’s Cannabis Act) marketing regulations. 

However, the public would later learn that Ghost Drop’s bright pink branding was one Pantone less than the defined term of “fluorescent.” Ghost Drops ability to cleverly maneuver within the boundaries of government set regulation is another point of pride for the company and by all counts, funny as shit. 

Finally, there was a weed company in Canada willing to take chances. 

By the end of 2021, Ghost Drops had officially announced they were coming to market and the hype was real. With Bernaudo in place as CEO, Fleetwood had publicly associated his Organik persona with Ghost Drops taking creative control of the company, and Durante had taken the role of President. The group was all in. 

Those who had known previously about Ghost Drops founder’s association with the black market version of the company, prior to the press release, felt like they had bragging rights. Those who found out after the fact were thrilled that someone they viewed as a successful artist, known for giving people a platform, had also been supplying them with the best weed in the country. Needless to say the brand caught fire immediately. Some detractors cried “sell out,” but the sentiment was hard to maintain when it became apparent that the new post-Ghost-Drops-era of cannabis in Canada had opened the door for everyone in the “legacy market” to participate in: Legal Land.

While billion-dollar licensed producers struggled to reinvent the wheel, Ghost Drops steam-rolled in on tradition.

Ghost Drops quickly began dominating the market. They bought their own storefront in downtown Toronto, and within months had quickly announced a new program called The League—a division of Ghost Drops planned on funding cannabis startups, the legacy players who got them started, and cannabis brands they believed in. 

Immediately, corporate cannabis started associating their brands with the term “legacy” in hopes that they could attract some of Ghost Drops’ rabid audience, credibility, and sales—a phenomenon I wrote about in detail in a piece called “The New Narc”.

However, growing fast doesn’t come without a few adjustments. Ghost Drops became in such demand that their mandate of vetting the best growers to deliver the best product had to be reevaluated. This public pause in strategy made many of those in the industry who were envious of Ghost Drops delighted with glee. The pettiest of us were hoping for failure as if Ghost Drops hadn’t already changed the game forever—a success in your humble narrator’s view that could never be taken away from its founders. 

The lesson that the Ghost Of Christmas Present would likely want us to learn is that instead of trying to do what others are doing, focus on authenticity and servicing our own audience. Only Ghost Drops can be Ghost Drops. 

What many didn’t take into account is that when you build something transparently, you earn your audience’s trust and respect—something few licensed producers have been able to maintain. A supporter who doesn’t feel talked down to will always continue to listen. 

Respecting their base is another huge point of pride for the Ghost Drops team.

The Ghost Drops of Christmas Future

In November 2022, Ghost Drops took control of their own future and announced a major expansion with a 10,000 square foot processing and production facility. They have also taken leadership roles in educating the consumer and retailer alike on best practice of ordering through distribution programs across the country. Ghost Drops’ will continue to curate the best cultivators, growers, and practices in an ever-improving industry, and are willing to help anyone along the way. 

However, as Ghost Drops continues to curate some of the best cannabis in the country, Fleetwood and the team recognize that the culture needs servicing as well. Their expansion includes continued charitable community projects, and they’ve recently initiated a song-writing camp called Creatives 1st by Club Blvd, a program designed to foster the careers of up-and-coming Toronto-based musicians.

In 2023, Ghost Drops’ plans include events such as a charity-driven industry-wide cannabis-infused poker tournament (March 31st), which they hope will bridge the gap between community and communication amongst the industry. 

Perhaps the most exciting is the return of KOTD to Toronto, something fans of Fleetwood have been clamoring for. Taking place February 25th, the return of KOTD is bittersweet for Fleetwood as it commemorates and honors legendary battle rapper and close friend, Pat Stay, who was tragically murdered in early September of 2022.

If the Ghost Of Christmas Future appeared and pointed to our graves, it would be because we didn’t recognize that no matter our opinion of Ghost Drops, they are a fine example of what can happen when corporate, street-level, and marketing genius respect each other’s strengths. 

Once we start recognizing each other’s strengths, we can then begin to own our weaknesses; we’ll be able to build a stronger cannabis industry for all. 

More and more we’re seeing that like Ghost Drops, it takes the best of all of us, a combination of respect and unique skills coming together and finding success. 

When the Bob Cratchits and Scrooges of the world find respect for each other, then the world will help more Tiny Tims. We can share and laugh while we all smoke big ol’ holiday blunts and share a taste of Scrooge’s big ol’ holiday Turkey (or preferred big ol’ plant-based supplement). Once this happens, we’ll finally get back to what cannabis is really all about: getting high. 

And that’s how weed found Christmas.

The End.

The post The Ghost Drops of Past, Present, and Future: A Cannabis Christmas Tale appeared first on High Times.

FLASHBACK TO THE NINETIES

During my high school experience of the mid 90s, especially in small towns like the one I grew up in, the drug culture was booming. Hash, shrooms, and acid were king. A few designer drugs like ecstasy were starting to make their way to rural Canada but it hadn’t really hit yet. It was still difficult for people in rural Ontario to get flower.

In my last High Times article, “The New Narc,” I discussed that in those times, Regan’s reignited drug war was still running rampant even in Clinton’s America. Kurt Cobain had recently died and pop culture was trying to pick up the pieces.

During this time, my best friend, band mate, and party accomplice “Paul” was one of the most impressive humans I’ve ever met. In our early-to-mid teen years, “Paul” and I explored a variety of subcultures and the drugs that went with them. We were not special.

Kids of the 90s often considered the 60s “drug revolution” as “introductory.” This is the generation that brought us South Park, whose creators, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, famously went to The Oscars in drag and on acid.

In adulthood, most kids who were products of 90s counterculture revolutions such as grunge, punk, and techno can relate and reminisce about the state of partying experienced in the last few years on Earth before humans had global access to the internet.

Twenty to thirty years later, it’s not hard to imagine why this generation’s zeitgeist has a relaxed and open mind towards drugs. Several counterculture industries like skateboarding, cannabis, and wall art have begun revolutionizing what the corporate landscape of the 2020s can look like.

Modern society has begun rewriting the narratives of what was once considered degenerate behavior.

BAD TIPS / BAD TRIPS

Currently, many private and public psychedelic companies are focusing on mental health, addiction, and PTSD research. While this research is important and exciting, most agree that we may never see psychedelics as a recreational device. This means that those who obey laws, and prescribe as followed, may never truly understand the true potential of their investments.

To gain insight on the psychedelic investment landscape, we spoke with Doctor Darryl Hudson, a respected, peer reviewed, and published molecular biologist based in Toronto, Ontario. Dr. Darryl is also a specialist in cannabis and plant medicines. He is celebrated for his work in the field of cannabis and PTSD and has publicly spoken on multiple panels on the aforementioned subjects. He’s also a metalhead, which rips.

Dr. Darryl’s company GoodCap Pharmaceuticals, are developing low-dose non-hallucinatory products that they hope will someday be available in a prescription drug format. 

According to Dr. Darryl, “Access is the number one concern I have with these medicines. I would hope to see complete decriminalization of psychedelic molecules (for which safety has been established) in the future. At the very least, regulated access through the established medical industry. We desperately need many of these medications to be available to the general public, which means mass production and major corporations getting involved.”

While a leading voice and advocate of psychedelics as medicine, Dr. Darryl fears there are dangers that reflect the early days of cannabis legalization. Dangers those looking to invest and the general public should be aware of. 

“We see problematic behavior in the emerging psychedelic industry from some ‘vulture capitalists’ attempting to profit from these medicines without understanding them. As with cannabis, those who care only about profits are not likely to survive long. Product quality and in this case, patient care is likely to be a bigger factor in gaining long term traction and a loyal consumer base. We have already seen public companies abandon projects,” Dr. Darryl says.

FLASHBACK TO THE FUTURE

In our youth, Paul and I, along with many in our friends group, followed a traditional small town drug-experimentation-trajectory. This trajectory went from beer and liquor to weed and hash, followed by mushrooms.

After mushrooms, many moved on to acid. Those who acid agreed with it, did it again and again. Then after that, they did more acid. Then they ate acid for dinner and dessert topped with liquid acid.

LSD and Paul gelled. It allowed him to become Ferris Bueller on drugs (I’ll explain later). It made him somewhat of a visionary. His understanding of this drug, combined with his ability to be productive on it, is exactly why all investors, predatory and casual alike, should experience LSD and all psychedelics to their fullest before investing. Understanding these products could guide more than just a publicly shared company’s success.

USER HABITS AND THE CONSUMPTION OF PSYCHEDELICS

In today’s climate, ideas like organic LSD, LSA, or LSH, have wealthy thought leaders gathering around the Joshua Trees of the world. These forward thinking innovators conduct mind melding money meetings with spores of opportunity. While Netflix originals like Goop homogenize the movement, powerhouse leaders of industry are a buzz with the buzziest buzz words no one can say or spell like “psilocybin” or “psilocin,” the active psychedelic compound found in magic mushrooms.

On the street, LSD traditionally came in the form of tiny square pieces of 1cm by 1cm construction paper, usually with a cartoon on them, called “tabs” or “hits.” These tabs were, and still are to this day, ingested under the tongue until dissolution. The high would generally last from four to eight hours.

Today, there is no limit to the consumption methods. Tinctures, capsules, infused edibles, are all easily and readily available with the proper know-how. But all of these have been synthesized in the basements of unsuspecting parents for decades.

“To my knowledge, LSD as well as many psychedelic drugs are not extremely difficult to chemically synthesize,” Dr. Darryl says. “Methods have been published and patented in the past. I recently had a colleague tell me they made the equivalent of 3.5 million doses in an approved GMP setting. With competition in the space for pricing of API’s (approved pharmaceutical ingredients) I do not expect the molecules themselves to be highly valuable. There are many companies in other countries who can and will make these molecules for cheap.”

“Unlike cannabis,” Dr. Darryl says, “people do not consume large quantities of psychedelics, and psilocybin is no exception. By my estimates, most people use less than 10 grams of mushrooms per year. Even if someone microdosed 1/10th of a gram every day, that’s only 36.5 grams in a year. I have smoked that much weed in one night.”

WELCOME TO ACID TOWN

There was no shortage of urban myths surrounding acid in Carlisle, Ontario which I imagine was the same everywhere. Everyone heard the tales and warnings about having flashbacks as an adult. Or, that acid was LSD mixed with rat poison. Or, that it was the most illegal drug because it was classified as a crime against the government. Or, and perhaps the biggest warning about acid was that users could go “clinically insane” after taking 75 hits combined even over a period of time. In our small town, we had no idea about dosage. We had no idea other than the experience. Also, no one gave a fuck at all.

Several early mornings in high school, Paul and I would synchronize dropping acid or eating mushrooms so we’d be high by the time we met on the school bus. We would get shipped into a slightly bigger town called Waterdown for school. Our goal was to be “peaking” while playing freeze tag in first-period drama. We had far surpassed the 75 hits mark. The idea that this would make us “clinically insane” became funnier and funnier to us. What we had learned was that LSD was honing our ability to detect bullshit. We thought we had it all figured out. We jammed in our punk band all week and threw shows on the weekends where we’d sling hash and acid to our friends.

High doses of LSD seemed to give us a heightened ability to detect societal and social micro-transactions. For some it meant the ability to detect disingenuous behavior, others could focus on the flaws of our structured society, whatever the scenario, most will tell you that high doses of LSD force internal and external transparency. 

Paul somehow managed to become Student Council President of our high school. A miraculous feat considering we never went to school. One of Paul’s more successful initiatives, was a team building exercise designed and concocted by Paul on acid, where he would turn the school’s two story indoor atrium into a giant pirate ship.

His plan was to go to school high on acid while dressed as a pirate and make the entire student body and faculty walk a plank into a sea of crash mats.

The initiative was wildly successful and made the local papers. It was also a huge feature in that years’ student yearbook. Paul had the good sense to do the event sober. As it were, our antics wouldn’t be exposed just yet. 

Paul’s parents were lovely hippies who lived in the small town of Carlisle, Ontario. Paul’s mom was a grade two school teacher. She specialized in theater and song. His dad, a reclusive bearded genius who often referred to us as vampires because of our late-night antics. They definitely knew we were on more drugs than just weed, but weren’t sure what.

One school night our merry band of dipshits skipped out early to congregate in Paul’s parents basement, as we often did.

Paul had a lot of acid that night and we ate all of it. An hour or so later, we were having a time. We wandered around Paul’s parent’s house like giggling-acid-zombies observing with humility the absurdity of reality, as one often does on that drug.

We went about our business without a care in the world. In our exploits, we stumbled upon a video camera. This was an exciting find as video cameras weren’t nearly as common as they are now. We didn’t question the why or how this camera had appeared, how could it not be a good idea to film our LSD-induced antics?

We threw the camera over our shoulder and wandered out into the quiet streets of Carlisle, Ontario. Some light mischievous vandalism seemed to be on the menu.

Our quest began with the changing of the letters on the portable marquees at the bank and church. We changed the church sign to read “Beavers & Cunts” instead of “Beavers and Scouts registration” and we changed the local bank’s sign to read, “Welcome To Acid Town.”

We were unsupervised gremlins worshiping at the altar of silly. Our mindset was to challenge all institutional structures and values.

High as fuck and camera still rolling, we rallied back to Paul’s basement dwelling. We had no intention of slowing down. Paul stripped down to tiny leopard print underwear, put on pigtails and wailed on guitar while sporting pink Minnie Mouse sunglasses. A few of us set the table top hockey on fire and played catching trails as the player pieces danced up and down the pressboard. It was excessive to say the least. There was also a ferret for some reason.

The next day, we woke up in the pitch black to Paul’s Mom running down the steps to the basement. She was yelling at the top of her lungs, which was very odd for her. Paul’s Dad could also be heard in the background referring to us as Vampires.

“What the fuck did you do last night?” she yelled.

Paul did his best to cover for us. He said we had only been smoking weed but we were already busted. Hard.

As it turns out, the camera we found belonged to Paul’s mom’s school. We had accidentally taped over Paul’s Mom’s grade two student theater production with our acid trip.

As legend has it; Paul’s mom hit play on the video camera assuming the kid’s play was cued up and left the classroom. When she returned, to her dismay, she found a lot of sad, disappointed and very confused six year olds.

After that, I was banned from Paul’s house. The jig was up. We were busted. In addition to video taping the evidence, we had also accidentally ratted ourselves out to my mom as well. I had left a message on her answering machine, letting her know I was going to stay at Paul’s house, but the machine also picked up Paul asking everyone how many hits of acid we all wanted in the background. We were terrible drug dealers. 

A few nights later, we sat in Paul’s car overlooking Carlisle. Paul revealed that he wanted to infuse the town’s water supply with LSD. He wanted everyone to have as much fun as us.

Paul’s theory was that if we just gave everyone the tiniest bit, maybe LSD would help our uptight small town become more enlightened. Paul wanted to make Acid Town a reality.

As comically villainous as Paul’s theory could be interpreted, he had formulated the notion of microdosing. Although this delivery system would have landed us in jail for a very long time. This is where we decided to chill on the acid for a bit. Maybe let all of the trouble we were in blow over. By this time, everyone in the area knew we were the “Beavers & Cunts” responsible for laying waste to half of the town.

A year or two later, I moved to a new town and slowly drifted from that crowd. Started a new band shortly after, but I think about those days fondly. I don’t regret a thing.

While “enhanced” water supplies are not likely to be the route we see the medical world take psychedelics as a medicine, Doctor Darryl believes that controlled psychedelic experiences can be beneficial.

“To date, the programs involving legal access to psychedelics do so in a highly controlled setting with psychotherapy included, often two people overseeing the actual experience,” Dr. Darryl says. “From a regulatory perspective, this is quite understandable so as to mitigate risks that may be associated with consumption of high doses causing a psychedelic experience.” 

In retrospect, none of us died from rat poison, none of us are clinically insane, and none of us ended up being considered enemies of the establishment.

Years later, I still keep in touch with Paul and most of that friend group. Paul ended up becoming a real estate mogul, architect, and a great dad. When we reminisce, we laugh at our days under the influence of acid.

Everyone in that group feels that LSD made them a better person in one way or another. Whether the drug itself made us hyper-aware, or fried our brains just enough that we see the world a little differently, most 90s  “acid-heads” will agree that the drug is a vessel towards introspection and often, humility. While at one point we were avid users of LSD, for most, it’s been years since experimenting again. Some haven’t since. 

The potential psychedelics can have on our society is vast. If you’re looking to invest in psychedelic startups, do as much acid as possible. Immediately. You might learn that you dislike LSD. It might become a religion. It might help you detect who the pump and dumps are. Or it might put you 30 years ahead of the thought curve like Paul.

It’s inevitable that Acid Town will be gentrified. It has unlimited potential. However, investors might want to test the water before buying.

The post Welcome To Acid Town appeared first on High Times.

Many are familiar with the term “narc” because of platforms like Netflix, video games, or the 2002 film starring Ray Liota and Jason Patric. It would seem that few remember “narc” being a derogatory term for those who appeared to be an undercover cop, rat, or anyone deemed untrustworthy for a variety of reasons.

Urban Dictionary defines the word “narc” as follows:

1. n. Short for a Narcotics officer. A member of Law Enforcement that enforces drug laws.

2. n. A person who is not a member of Law Enforcement but turns you into the police for doing or dealing drugs.

3. n. A person that turns you in for something you did wrong; specifically to any type of authority figure like parents, cops, teachers, boss, etc.

4. v. The act of turning someone into law enforcement or authority figures

My name is Ben, and I’ve been a small town, low-level drug dealing, narc-hating, punk since I was fifteen. Weed has been a major part of my whole life. Dealing, advocacy, activism, and daily consumption have been a constant since I was a teenager. I love this shit. Weed is tight.

After years in cannabis PR, marketing, events, education, and content I’m currently partnered in a cannabis strategy, genetics, and content company. A few months ago I took a part-time job budtending at a friend’s dispensary where my brother works. I wanted to understand what cannabis looked like on the street now. I wanted to see all the brands and products and get a better grasp of the legal market. My business partners are global leaders in tissue culture, the cannabis industry, and have operated multi-media companies. I’m learning constantly from them. However, I think I’ve learned the most I have in years about cannabis by part-time budtending. Not only have I learned valuable information regarding the street level consumer, as it turns out, I learned that I also still love selling weed. I love the transaction. I love giving a legal receipt for cannabis. I thought the joy would wear off, but no, after months it still makes me happy to sell someone legal weed.

From Bottle Tokes of Hash to Narc PTSD: Required Reading

In 1994, a year after I was introduced to hash or any cannabis product at all, I had fallen in love with getting stoned. It activated me. In the early 90s it was still a very dark time for all controlled substances. Ronald Regan’s reignited War on Drugs was still running rampant even in Clinton’s America. In fact, in our area, the high school landscape was so uptight that an in-class presentation on the benefits of legalization presented by a chubby, narc-hating, 15-year-old punk could land someone in a lot of trouble. And it did. Two weeks of suspension, several warnings, lectures, and notified police.

At that time, flower was hard to find in our area. Most people living in small cities or towns in Ontario smoked hash in a manner of what’s known in our region as bottle tokes or “bots” for short.

This was achieved by putting a dime in a beer bottle, scraping part of the bottom-side of the bottle on concrete to weaken a small portion of the bottle. Then, by snapping the dime in the bottle with your wrists, the dime would pop a hole close to the base. Once a sufficient hole was made, the next step was to use a lit cigarette to tap small nuggets of hash (bots) until they stuck on the lit cigarette and then cook the nugget in the bottle. Once the hash turned amber red, the bottle toke would be inhaled through the top of the bottle. (Welcome to Canada fuckers.)

There was no shortage of a market. Selling hash, acid, and oil at local punk, metal, and indie shows was commonplace for a lot of kids growing up in Southern Ontario. After shows, parking lots would be littered with resin soaked “bot bottles”.

Reckless abandonment made possible by some heavy hitters who became mentors in a scene that opened doors to the wide world of drug dealing for many young people. As one can imagine, an important, traditional lesson taught to ambitious young drug dealers was how to look out for Narcs.

1. Find out who knows them in your area. Do they have friends? 
2. See how well they do in school and watch their relationships with authority.
3. If they don’t do drugs with you, keep them the fuck away. 
4. If they don’t do a lot of drugs with you, keep them the fuck away.

The narc vetting process became an instinct for any social or professional situation that applied.

1. Do they have references? 
2. What is their education and background? 
3. Do they know and understand the product they are selling, building, or promoting?

Narc suspicion would become ingrained in so many people of this generation that narc PTSD is commonplace. Narc or cop awareness can be compared to instincts such as gaydar. It was a tribal and paranoid time invoked by American television programs like 21 Jump Street.

Thankfully, society has begun moving past prohibition. Licensed producers of cannabis will never have to worry about narcs in the same fashion.

It Ain’t Easy Selling Green if You’re Green to Selling Weed

The licensed producer has a whole other set of concerns. Over-regulation, appeasing shareholders, heavy taxation, and a competitive market have left many grasping at straws.

In Canada, cannabis marketing regulations are strict. It’s difficult for licensed producers and their brands to build an audience. What begins to happen are narrative trends and themes tend to overshadow what a brand’s intentions are or who their identity is.

If you’re a budtender, connoisseur, or in the space at all, you’ve most likely spoken to dozens if not hundreds of cannabis sale representatives or brands. This is not to put down or be negative towards sales reps or to paint all licensed producers with the same brush, but many have opted to paint themselves into a corner.

At the end of the day, when the romance wears off, the job of a sales rep is a thankless one. It’s extremely difficult and it takes a distinctive personality to succeed. However, a sales rep’s success is only defined by the product the rep is selling. No matter how professional, well spoken, or pleasant, if the weed sucks, the weed sucks. It’s nothing personal. The retailer’s job is selling weed. The consumer decides what they will or won’t buy. Or more importantly, what they’ll buy again.

The cannabis marketplace is extremely competitive with massive amounts of audience crossover and new brands launching everyday. The result is companies start to “borrow” messaging from one another as regulations lighten and consumer interests change.

Recently, the average legal cannabis consumer is looking for companies who know good cannabis and don’t want negative connotations associated with their purchase. Many are aware of the challenges several publicly traded licensed producers are having. Hundreds of staff layoffs while CEOs continue to get rich is not something cannabis consumers tend to want to support. The consumer doesn’t want to give their money to a company they perceive to be “corporate cannabis.” This sentiment has made it increasingly difficult for many licensed producers who have struggled to find authentic messaging.

Stigma, Tegridy, Legacy: The Different Eras of Legal Cannabis Messaging

In the early days of legalization, the overarching narrative was “getting the meds to the patients.” It was fashionable to present altruistically with a message of “Breaking the Stigma.” A rebranding of what traditional cannabis users looked like. To show that it wasn’t just hippies, skaters, and rappers that liked getting high. This isn’t to say breaking stigmas and getting people their medications aren’t great things, but it is to say, many of these companies were less than genuine with their approach and intentions. This altruistic image became incredibly difficult to maintain when publicly traded companies were publicly taking billions of the public’s money.

After the altruistic-stigma-breaking-narrative ran its course, the market balanced out a bit and responsible spending messaging seemed to take the shape of the “seed to sale farmer.”

The-down-home-weed-farmer with grit and love for the plant became the new mascot of an industry beginning to reveal itself as a far more risky investment than previously thought. Belushi Farms captures this essence in a sincere way, but many brands coming to market ran hard with style of marketing.

This era’s narrative has been successfully lampooned time and time again by South Park, in the form of Randy Marsh’s cannabis company, Tegridy Farms.

The Tegridy Era presented a narrative that quality cannabis companies cared less about profits and more about quality. The valuable blue-collar work ethic of a family-run business, is not only a rich heritage, but only worthwhile if built on a foundation of integrity. At this point, a trope in itself.

The Tegridy Era was hard to maintain. Mostly because many companies came to the realization that being a farmer is crazy fucking hard. There was so much upkeep that the cow shit jokes wrote themselves.

Recently, it would seem a new shift has taken place. A new era is upon us. In this new dawn the buzzword around the boardroom has turned to “Legacy”. Grandstanding Founders, VPs and Executives pat each other on the back, regaling a story of their CEO who got high and sold an eighth of weed at a party once, has made its way into every investment, or corporate introduction deck.

Welcome to the Legacy Era. Fuck Your Tegridy.

For those unfamiliar with the term “legacy,” it refers to the cannabis industry and all of its facets, pre-legalization. Other common terms are “the traditional market” and the commonly used yet frowned upon, “black market.”

Here, in Canada, the Legacy Era trend blew up with the launch of Toronto, Ontario based brand Ghost Drops. A well known “legacy brand” who brings rare strains to the legal market.

The brand built a massive audience when it was announced that Toronto hip-hop artist Organik, who is also known for founding Toronto’s premier battle rap competition, King of The Dot (KOTD), was bringing his well known legacy strains to the masses under his Ghost Drops brand.

So naturally, Ghost Drops and Organik have not only well established street credibility, but an organic (pun intended) following who appreciates what they’ve offered the community for years. Quality product and entertainment for their well curated audience.

How to Succeed in Weed: Quit It With the Narc Vibes

When executives don’t understand a subculture and try to replicate something like the success of Ghost Drops, historically, it never plays out with any sort of substance or connection. Many have tried replicating the core culture of skateboarding and have rarely succeeded. Large in part being  most shareholders or executives don’t smash their faces off concrete for fun.

Hopefully, these struggling licensed producers come to understand that Organik, or those like him, didn’t set out to be a legacy brand. They stayed true to who they were and are still.

Those who try to recreate how they see others succeed, especially when claiming to have more credibility in an industry than they qualify for, should understand that anyone who was championing cannabis prior to legalization will see through them. It’s why actual narcs have to go undercover for years at a time. Perpetrators don’t even know what they’re getting wrong. It’s in the language, it’s in your movements, it’s how you smoke.

Whether a consumer, entrepreneur, dealer, basement grower, advocate, fanatic, activist, patient, or long time High Times reader, all will likely pick up on your narc vibes from miles away.

With the myriad of companies, new strains, new strain names for old strains, an endless barrage of new products, new technologies, coupled with the hundreds of SKU struggling retailers already have to sort through; no one has time to be disingenuous or time for those who are. The best brands will always tell an honest story and have great products.

Legalization is a great thing. It should be celebrated and respected. It is extremely disrespectful to appropriate the legacy culture to make your brand seem cool. Many sacrifices were made so we could make legalization as positive and inclusive as possible.

When I look at the current state of legalization I see hope. It’s our job to make the cannabis industry better, and many are putting in the hard work. I’m grateful that stoners aren’t the pariahs of society anymore. I’m happy we won. With so many products that are now available, I’m grateful that smoking bots off a cigarette in a beer bottle is still an option, just not the only one.

At this time, all that we require of licensed producers is an authentic story, a respect for the consumer, great fucking weed, and to lose the narc vibes.

We’ll do the rest.

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