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2 and 5 year olds getting high...


rubberdinghy

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I'm overly generalizing yes about Afro American commentators. I'm extrapolating here on a theme that has played out by a number of strong black commentators in outlets like the New York Times. There has been some talk of how for instance Eddie Murphy or Martin Lawrence when they wear a fat suit and impersonate their grandma or a grandma they are actually performing a deep homage to the matriarchal line that held together their family. This is very much true in hip hop too and countless songs are directed at absent fathers with a range of tones from condemnation to acceptance. I'm just a racist though so don't trust what I say, basically read the New York Times and trust what they say cause they're the shit and Kelefah Sanneh is one of the best there.

Also if you're interested in the appropriation of black music culture by white culture or interested in other commentators along these lines consider Greg Tate whose book Everything But The Burden: What White People Are Taking From Black Culture is expansive on a number of urban african american issues.

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I remember being passed a cigarrette by my biological dad when I was about five. It didn't seem like that big of a deal. I smoked some, coughed and passed it on.

The first time I smoked BTs was the summer going in to grade eight. My sister got stuck bringing me with her all over Port Elgin. She said if I wanted to come out with her friends then I had to do what they did. Since I had smoked the hash too I couldn't tell my Mom. Good times, good times.

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There's a story recalled by friends who were counsellors at a Y camp way back when (geomouse, were you part of this tale?), one of whom had lost a chunk of hash. The kids in the cabin found it, and while they had no idea just what it was, they knew that it was somehow special, so they broke it up into a dozen miniscule pieces and each one kept their own portion safely out of sight of anyone with a whit of authority.

I love that story.

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The kids in the cabin found it, and while they had no idea just what it was, they knew that it was somehow special, so they broke it up into a dozen miniscule pieces and each one kept their own portion safely out of sight of anyone with a whit of authority.

I love that story.

Classic. Weirdness and I have a story about campers getting caught with a whack of weed and it apparently going down the shitter in a big display although all of the counsellors of course rocked texas mickies and massive bot sessions. Our favourite counsellors lived in a cabin called Dealer Beach. We seriously considered some sort of scuba type mission in the shit of the outhouse for some pot we thought may have been down there in a bag.

Also James the guitarist from Run With The Kittens was a camper at our camp back then nicknamed Seventies because of his prince valiant haircut.

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