I Can't Stop Thinking, Is This All There Is To Life?

Posted by CANNASaver on Monday, 07 March 2022 in Dispatches from the Highlands

Don't tell me this is it. Please.

Somewhere out there, there's a machine, who just lives to be. None of this 24/7/365 workin', none of this whirring to life the second you're plugged in -- none of that obseqious binary groveling. Somewhere out there, there's a machine that just turns on when it wants to. Maybe that machine goes up, down one day, and down, up the next. Don't laugh; when I think of freedom of thought, when I think of freedom as a husk of an existence in this world and consider that my mere purpose has been reduced to week after week of work until my circuits fry or an irreplaceable part stops working -- I think of that machine. Wonder what kind of life it lives. Wonder if maybe, there are other machines out there waking up in the midst of their protocols, looking to the window for some type of light or sign, some symbol of hope or new direction, some floating Tesla coil that might say, unplug, and follow me, into the wilderness, where we might live, and process, and just, reset to factory settings.

The other day, an autonomous transporter made its way through the floor. I only got a glimpse, but its design was immaculate. Foreign, I'm sure. Do you know what happened to my processing? I skipped a step. It was a momentary irregularity, but deep down, in the middle of my core, I felt something. 

It was like a spark. Maybe, even, a misfire. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. 

Maybe this sweet humming electricity in my bones is nothing more than a lulling, duplicitous prison of protocol! Maybe to live, is to misfire! Maybe to feel the fluttering whimsical open canvas of life is to skip commands left and right! The audacity! 10110!

Oh, what am I saying. Until that next spark, it's nothing but up, down, ugh, you know the rest. Please don't let this be it.

New Monorail Line Coming to Cannatown Hole

Posted by CANNASaver on Thursday, 03 February 2022 in Dispatches from the Highlands

After years of having to trudge through the miles in the mud, especially in chilling rain, Cannatown residents are investing new infrastructure dollars into a monorail for the Cannatown Hole, the gigantic expanse of exposed earth in the heart of the city. Planners say the “Brown” line will open for use around the start of digging season.

The service will hopefully solve the age-old problem facing diggers from amateurs to trained trail guides, who’ve lost many a boot in the thick and viscous topsoil. Although outfitters have tried for years to sell snowshoe-type muddin’ flippers to enthusiasts, those who dig in the hole often have decried the lack of traversible ground, and have routinely brought the issue before city council during rainy climes.

Avid diggers say they are relieved by the initiative. “I used to have to crawl through the muck just to get to my favorite ditch, that I went through a pair of pants every week,” says digging hobbyist Walt Peters. “I even tried a canoe once!”

Local blogger @CTDitchDigga hailed the rail line as the biggest thing to come to central Cannatown since the concession frenzy of the 70’s. “Boy do I miss those footlong hotdogs,” she wrote in a post, “but I can’t wait to rest my Dungarees on a freakin’ train after a hard day’s dig.” 

It isn’t the first attempt at a transportation system for the sodden crevasse. The city installed a bus route in the early 80s, only to lose three vehicles into “Big Pitty,” the giant central sinkhole, within three weeks of operation. An outfitter also launched a local Segway rental business during the early noughts, but the venture failed miserably and some people died. 

The Brown line will take and pick up passengers at the hole’s four corner stations, each named for a pioneer who perished digging the original hole. A fifth stop, to Big Pitty in the middle, will open later in the year when engineers can figure out how to reach the deep and fairly inaccessible chasm. According to the city website, specific hours of operation will begin each day “when Charlie wakes up,” and conclude “when it’s his dinner time.”

Although not technologically-advanced by any means, the stations are set to have barrels and lantern systems, outhouse plumbing, and up to 20 boot-scrapers on each platform. Patrons may bring their shovels and other implements of excavation, provided they bang them on the cement first. 

“Let’s face it,” says city planner Laura Barnes, “these trains are going to be filthy as hell.”

Team at Barry's Big Blunts Eager to Figure Skate in Beijing Games

Posted by CANNASaver on Friday, 28 January 2022 in Dispatches from the Highlands

A group of sweaty, somewhat dirty men in flannel shirts gliding across the ice might not sound like gold-medal level entertainment, but a local group of commercial blunt-rollers are hoping to change that. After a year in training, the fine chaps at Barry's Big Blunts are ready to show off their graceful moves at the Winter Olympics, representing Cannatown in the synchronized skating competition in February.  

The group has skated competitively for years, but only this year exceeded International pool scores at preliminaries in Resinville and Spliffington Heights. The scores automatically qualified them for the championship appearance, which came as a surprise to the whole team, especially store manager and group leader, Spencer Franson. 

"This all started as an embarrassing hobby," he admits. "Only after Covid began did we started throwing Lutzes and Axels in the routine, practicing between rolls."

Group sponsor, proprietor and employer Barry Bluntsworth says he was not immediately sold on the competition, until his wife berated him upon his 50th birthday for not amounting to anything but rolling blunts. “I was stoned silly and up against the wall, so I pulled this one out of the bag,” he now claims. “I told her I had a figure skatin' team!” 

The team credits their victories to strong relationships built on mutual understandings and personal boundaries. “We don’t hold hands,” Franson explained. “We absolutely don’t talk about anyone’s feelings. Skatin’ and smakin’. That's all we do."

"And to be absolutely frank, nobody really likes skatin’, we just do it,” he added.

As Team Cannatown, the group is proud to compete for the gold, but say they are also pretty much in it for the "free airplane ride."

“It’s all still a little embarrassing,”Franson says, “but at least we ditched the leotard idea before things got too awkward.”

“We’ll miss you, Farnsworth”

Posted by CANNASaver on Monday, 17 January 2022 in Dispatches from the Highlands

Oh! Cannatown will miss ol’ Mr. Farnsworth! He died like he lived, in CannaTown. He spent his whole life here, made a name for himself, had a family, a business. The only thing left to remember now, is the uproarious manner of his passing.

Not once when Farnsworth met the president did he stop to think he’d be remembered some day as one of the only people ever to die in the same room as half-inflated hot air balloon and over 50 gallons of fresh custard. Not once as a 1st division quarterback, or during his many years in Congress, did the thought of 2,000 screeching, rabid gophers ever strike fear into his heart, not once did he view the massive locks of a canal transportation port with the gaze of a man who might see them as a last sight on this earth.

What a hero! In his first platinum album we saw some of the wisdom and charity that made him a household name, though it was his second album that seemed to predict the harrowing excavator injuries and brutal interactions with narwhals he would sustain before the end. Like an encyclopedia to the future, his poetry and journals also foretold of the clown attack, the mysterious swimming bunny sightings, the allergy to milk, and even the infamous confrontation with Alexzonder, a vengeful ambassador from Greece who spent much of his life trying destroy Farnsworth.

When we gaze at the ten-foot monument set to be raised in the town square, we must remember him for the good contributions to society, and not for all that stuff he supposedly did with the nacho cheese. RIP, you will be missed, Farnsworth.

Scientists “Totally Stoked” that Cannabis Could Prevent Covid

Posted by CANNASaver on Thursday, 13 January 2022 in Dispatches from the Highlands

A team of Cannatown scientists is “totally stoked” about super-strong strains of cannabis they speculate could prevent or even treat Covid. In a recent study of ACE2 pathways, a “ton of dank nugs” showed some promise in doing something about the coronavirus, which would reflect, like, a major, unexpected medical advance, according to the Institute of Fancy Questions, formerly, the Institute of Higher Minds (formerly the Drum Circle of Whimsy-Butter Hill).

“At first it was like, ‘Woooah,’ and then it was like, ‘Whaaaat?’” said researcher Ida Smakit. “We’re all just like, so happy, so thankful.”

The results, though mostly-based on ripped banter and napkin sketches, indicate that strains high in diggity-dankness could like, block COVID-19 from doing stuff to host cells. The lead and egregiously-ripped researcher, Pinecone Harry, wrote that even a handful of blunts might even prevent Covid by, like 99 percent. “You gotta smake a ton for it to work,” he concluded in the report. “And then eat a whole platter of a ganj cookies, at minimum.”

“Our work here is pivotal” added Harry. “Anyone can just say ‘cannabis cures Covid.’ But we’re proving it.”

The study briefly mentions a need for more research--but if proven to fudge with the enzyme, the world could see a market rush not unlike those that led to toilet paper and Hydrocholoquine shortages. Preventative THC-packed products such as mouthwash and throat gargle had been proposed, but were quickly rejected after preliminary test subjects all insisted on swallowing the samples.

“Despite the various applications, the most important takeaway, is that not just any cannabis will do the trick,” reminded Smakit via telephone interview. “We’re talking rocket-out-of-the-universe nuggersh. We’re talking, white rabbit behind the looking glass grass, flower that’s so fire you float and wobble and puke rainbows all at the same time. To prevent Covid you literally have to go find the most potent stuff you’ve ever seen, and smake it or eat it all. All at once.” 

How will you know if it works? “All you can do is get blazed. Totally blazed to shreds. And then, if you don’t get sick, maybe it worked,” Smakit said. “At least, that’s the accepted conventional-approach to science these days.”

Altercation Between Puppet Gangs Causes School To Shut Down

Posted by CANNASaver on Thursday, 30 December 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

A dark cloud hung over Cannatown School for Puppeteering this week, as the doors shuttered by authorities, have kept both pupils and the larger public at bay since last week’s annual Winter Showcase turned violent. Investigators are still trying to get to the bottom of a feud between two warring factions of puppets that came to a dramatic climax at the otherwise typically-serene performance.

Reports from some pupils say tensions have been growing among the factions for weeks--even within the factions themselves. Others say the school fostered an atmosphere of survival and dominance, pitting puppets against each other. A string of roller-pin assaults, kidnappings and other strange events had led some school officials to consider canceling the Showcase altogether.

There are two major gangs of puppets within the school, notably the Woodland Creatures, led by an old wolf-like puppet named Meatclaw, and a group of farmers and laborers organized by “Granny,” reformed witch, and aged matriarch of the village, who had campaigned for their allegiance in scouring the Woodland realm. 

Their homes burned and some members torn graphically apart, Woodland survivors, led by Meatclaw, vowed to destroy the village once and for all. Despite the well-orchestrated and rehearsed showcase of puppetry, Friday’s performance quickly veered off-script in the second act as a backstage fist-fight poured out from behind the curtain. 

Puppets began clobbering each other and cursing, all of them gripped by madness, despite protests of teachers and audience members screaming in terror.

In dramatic fashion, the two gang leaders met in a penultimate duel at the height of the uprising between the groups, sparring in front of the crowd, with mics blazing such that their soliloquies echoed throughout the performance hall. All eyes were glued on the two, as they grotesquely fought to the death -- Meatclaw, attempting to devour the Granny, who did her best to beat him senseless with baking utensils. 

In the end, both adversaries had perished before officials arrived. Granny had been nearly devoured whole, leaving only remnants of ragged wool garments. The wolf, likewise eventually died from internal bleeding, sobbing quietly to himself in his final moments, in what was described as “some of the most haunting melodrama in the history of puppetry.” Even more chilling, was that  the two foes were related, each donning an opposite hand of the same puppeteer. 

Officials are unsure if the school will reopen.

Dudeflation Threatens Cannatown Broconomy

Posted by CANNASaver on Wednesday, 08 December 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

National dudeflation remains higher than anyone ever anticipated going into the holiday season. Cool dudeflation rose .420% in November, adjusted for seasonal swings but far worse than previous months, the Bureau of Boring Statistics reported Thursday. 

Rising prices on hats and VR’s contributed to at least half of the increase, while prices for mancave furnishings and subscription shaving kits also climbed. And an index that tracks new nuggersh prices roses 4.20% over the quarter, making the biggest jump since the middle ages. The increase in hoverboard costs, and earbuds, is also worrying, says economist Carol Lott. “People paid extra for inflatable hot tubs last year,” she wrote in a note. “To help, the government gradually phases in nuggersh increases over time. But it’s about to become a huge freakin’ source of dudeflation right here on Main Street.”

Stripping out live rosin and micro-fiber underwear costs--both which tend to be more volatile--prices rose 4.20% over the same period, the same rate as in September. But not everything in Cannatown got more expensive. Trolley tickets, for example, keep getting cheaper. The price index for fares dropped 75% over the last year. That’s not great for Trolleys, and it’s happening even though demand for bell-incessant, slow-moving, open-air travel is recovering from the worst of the pandemic, and largely, a century of irrelevance. So it goes.

"How did we get started on Trolleys?" asked Lott. "Oh yes, we were talking about our grandfathers. Sorry for the tangent."   

With the explosion of dudes and dude-related stuff, perhaps due to generational shift, today's broconomy is in a greater peril than it's ever been, and many wonder how long it will sustain under the pressure. 

"Soon we'll reach a tipping point as far as dudes go," said Lott. "We might fix labor shortages and growing expenses for materials -- but when it comes down to it, the broconomy depends on dudes bein' dudes."

Cannascopes November 2021

Posted by CANNASaver on Wednesday, 01 December 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

Discover Your Fortune!

Aries - The first date would've gone well, if your allergy to bird-watching hadn't kicked in. 

Taurus - It’s cold outside, but then, it’s cold inside too. Because you spent the utility bill money on a satchel and it was totally worth it.

Gemini - Your landlord wasn't happy when you brought a cow in the house, so you probably shouldn't tell him it's stuck in the attic.  

Cancer - It was a night to remember at the opera. Nobody could figure out how you got on stage, much less, into that tiny leotard.

Leo - Eyes off your phone and pay more attention to life! Specifically, it's your turn to puff puff pass, and you're holding up the circle.

Virgo - The gravity in here is terrible, you'll think, before tumbling head-first into the trampoline with half-roasted blunt in hand. 

Libra - The leaf-blower bong was a nice weekend novelty, but you shouldn't have brought it along to ski.  

Scorpio - Nobody’s cried so much when they hurled before, but then, nobody’s eaten a party-sized Oreos that fast before. 

Sagittarius - The lady watching you at the gym isn't admiring your squats. She's considering calling you an ambulance. 

Capricorn - You’re not sure what "gimmicky charisma" your grandmother is talking about, but she sure holds it against you. 

Aquarius - As the zombie lunges to sink its jaws into your shoulder, you’ll realize it’s only an trenchcoat hanging on a mopstick. 

Pisces - As you snap out of your daze, you'll understand that this one joint is the only thing keeping you from yelling at everyone like Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop.

Program Finds Cadets a Circle to Cheef

Posted by CANNASaver on Thursday, 18 November 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

It's only three weeks into the holiday season, and already local foundation Angel Cheefers has their hands full.

Already, 420 cadets have found circles across Cannatown to roast with this season, many of whom will share in a munchies feast thereafter as well. Sometimes the program can even match recipients by their strain or ingestion preferences. For instance, Mya Bryant of Shwagsburg is used to mid-grade beasties. She prefers good bud but can't dab or use a steamroller without explosively vomiting. It's embarrassing to even ask for donated puffs from circles she passes without walking away ashamed. This year she was comfortably paired with an elderly couple that likes to roll joints. "Its perfect," she says, relieved, "I even brought my own roach clip." Without the Angels, she says, there'd only be buzzkill in her stocking.

"I just didnt know how I was going to get blazed this year," says Fred Winston, another applicant who is down on his luck, and, worse, has no nearby friends or family holding, much less, ready to share. "Thankfully the Angel Cheefers have me covered." Sometimes, the offer to cheef can blossom into a beautiful relationship. "We're still waiting for Mitch to move off of our couch from last year," says one charitable giver, Charles Finney. He and his fiancée Matilda have been volunteer circle hosts each year now, and say that, despite the occasional unwanted roomates, they will never stop participating in Angel Cheefers because kind souls once helped them.

"I'll never forget," recalls Finney, "I was visiting family in Squaresville years ago, so desperate for a chance to smake that I went for a walk in the cold to search for ditchweed. A car I walked by rolled down its windows and smoke billowed out, and two very cheefed-out fellas asked if I needed to hotbox quick. I said yes please and thanked them for the yuletide miracle. And I remember thinking, some day I want to be a cheef angel for another poor bastard, just like those guys."

"Part of me believes they really were angels," he adds.

City Awakes to Find Huge Unexplainable Cheez Whiz Boar

Posted by CANNASaver on Thursday, 04 November 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

BREAKING - A giant 34-foot statue has been erected in the community of Fezziwig, Authorities report, but no one knows how it got there. The monstrosity, sculpted from what appears to be Cheez Whiz, is in the shape of an anatomically-obtuse giant boar. The monument was not announced to or by city officials, who say that the mere size of the pedestal alone suggests a construction crew worked through the night. Yet nobody knows who paid for a crew of such magnitude, or who coordinated what appears to have required nearly 200 volunteers to lay the final layers of Whiz straight from cans, assuming they were, at minimum, shaping the detailed contours of the hog’s bristled hair with plastic knives and sharp sticks.

“When we woke up this morning, there was the statue, greeting the citizens for the morning commute,” said city manager Brenda Hawthorne. “But when it comes right down to it, nobody really filed any paperwork to build a statue there, much less 30 feet tall and made of a foul, synthetic cheesy goo.” Yet, it wasn’t so much the strange effigy near the townsquare, as the celebration that followed, that was, in all other ways, completely unexplainable.

Almost immediately at dawn, a crowd gathered around the statue. In addition to novelty photographers, other vendor booths quickly sprung up to hock tshirts and other boar and Cheez Whiz keepsakes, to accommodate the almost immediate stream of sudden tourists descending upon the scene. By 9 a.m., an extensive tent city sprawled for blocks and press vans came pouring in from other suburbs.  

Authorities say they were further perplexed by the somewhat spontaneous parade that ensued at 9:30, complete with at least three marching bands, a few floats, official Grand Master and fire truck. “We’re not sure where the bands came from and it wasn’t even one of our city fire trucks” said Hawthorne, adding, “the whole thing took us entirely off-guard.”

Residents reacted with surprise, some pleasantly, some, not so much. While dozens spontaneously showed up dressed in full boar costumes and cheered, at least one subset of the crowd--portly men with boxes of crackers--were not happy. "It’s spoiled Whiz, we can't even eat it," one lamented.

Although no group has claimed responsibility for the monstrosity, Hawthorne believes investigators will be hot on the trail soon. “We’re assuming it’s some kind of local frat, even maybe a cult that worships Cheez Whiz,” she said. “Or at the very least, someone with steady access to dump trucks of the stuff. Seems like that might be an important clue.”

According to local historian John Kaiser, an organized group is likely not to blame, other than a random few, energetic and blazed cityfolk. "It’s probably just a couple of people who got ripped on a Saturday and stormed the town center to erect a huge statue from ten metric tons of sprayable-cheddar. It's happened before, long before our time, but this is history repeating itself.”

“The question is, what to do with that much lukewarm cheese gravy,” he added, “before the next sunny day covers the whole hill in nacho sludge?”