Grandpas Marijuana Handbook

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While there is no written record of marijuana being used in prehistoric times for obvious reasons, some have advanced a theory that marijuana may have caused the disappearance of the dinosaurs when they began to eat it and got high. The resulting stoned effect turned voracious, flesh-eating animals into passive creatures too laid back to launch vicious assaults against their harmless fellows.

Some authorities think the marijuana may have raised the dinosaurs' consciousness levels since ingesting it does that in many cases where the smoker has at least the intelligence of your average dinosaur. Science has shown that ingesting marijuana will encourage a reflective attitude in most people, an open-mindedness and a willingness to examine even more sides to a problem than there actually are. Still, this is a scientific treatise and we cannot accept theories not grounded in fact. In any case, once all the dinosaurs became marijuana eaters they quickly degenerated into evolutionary dropouts and opted for attitudes favoring co-existence and cooperation.

Small wonder they perished as everyone knows a voracious nature is far more conducive to earthly success than any amount of passivity and compassion. We're told now that man first appeared some three million years ago in the guise of a wispy little guy about three feet tall and three parts monkey. This early progenitor was quite stupid and couldn't tell a marijuana plant from a Cadillac so he probably never used it, but by the time Cro-Magnon man arrived on the scene during the Pleistocene Epoch man must have been well acquainted with marijuana.

For one thing, man's life expectancy rose from an average of nineteen years to almost twenty-five by the time Cro-Magnon man showed up and many scholars are convinced medical marijuana must have played a major role in this increase. It's possible, for example, that some ancient marijuana field caught fire and the smoke drifted into a nearby cave where several sick cavemen were at death's door and the jolt of high-grade cannabinoids revived them.

People would revere such a plant and pass it on as folk medicine along with moldy stuff laced with penicillin and the sap from the aspirin tree. A population high on good weed would enjoy less stress and lower blood pressure and live longer in the bargain. Furthermore, what else except marijuana could explain the cave drawings at Alta Mira in northern Spain? These drawings are twenty or more thousand years old and yet very advanced, very sophisticated. The draftsmanship is first-rate, the blending of line and shape with the contours of the cave walls extraordinary.

How could these early men have created such brilliant work if they didn't have some sort of mind-altering, synapse-snapping booster to bring these talents to the surface? What better than two or three hits off a fat joint to elevate one's thoughts and stimulate those creative juices? Again, exercising a little literary license, such art may have come about in this way. Several cavemen are lounging around the fire of an evening and they engage in conversation. Gor grunts and Larry points at the fire and barks like a dog. Oopah grins wackily and Org says "Ugh" again. Nobody says anything for five minutes and then Larry produces a foot-long joint of high quality Upper Jurassic weed and smiles light up every face there.

Larry lights the joint with a burning ember, hits it a mighty draught, and hands it around. Everybody follows suit and by the time the joint has been reduced to roach status the boys are stoned for a fare-thee-well. The ensuing conversation goes like this.

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Thus inspired, these previously marijuana-free troglodytes were changed into highly skilled artists capable of producing sophisticated art the equal of any created since and it was all because they were stoned and operating in a different dimension than their straight, drug-free moralizing pals who belonged to that numerous tribe of naysayers who have always resisted anything involving fun. In fact, there are some who say the famous burning bush was actually a marijuana patch that was ignited by lightning when Moses was camped on the windward side so the smoke was blown in his direction.

After inhaling a liter or two of cannabis-riddled smoke, Moses took up his hammer and chisel and scaled Mt. Sinai and returned with the Ten Commandments in tow. Or so some say. All the Egyptians were pot tokers. Hieroglyphics on tomb walls depict workers rolling joints and passing them around on a lunch break. One famous drawing shows King Tut holding a baggie of grass and grinning a lopsided grin in what appears to be a bordello of some kind.

A number of tombs contain vases filled with pot for use in the next world or by grave robbers who would eventually loot the tomb and might enjoy a quiet smoke before dumping the corpse on the floor and making off with his solid gold coffin. The Egyptians also were the first people to use marijuana in warfare and it came about this way. A powerful army of Hittites was advancing on Heliopolis and the pharaoh's pot-smoking Grand Vizier concocted a clever scheme to stop them.

He suggested that they salt a mid-sized town in the Hittites' path with a ton or so of the most powerful pot in the kingdom and, after pretending to defend the town, to fall back in apparent disarray. The Hittites took the town and ransacked the place for booty and came upon several warehouses crammed with pot.

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Fortunately, one warehouse held papyrus rolling papers and the Hittites proceeded to hold a gigantic pot party complete with music and dancing girls. Once the festivities were well under way and all the Hittites were stoned out of their minds, the wily Egyptians stormed the encampment and slew , Hittites and seized all their equipment. The elated Egyptians celebrated their victory by smoking up most of the remaining pot the Hittites hadn't consumed and partied far into the night.

Alas, though, once the Egyptians were thoroughly stoned, an army of Thessalonians showed up and slew , Egyptians, seized the leftover pot, all the dancing girls, and , asses to carry the loot away. After this disaster all armies everywhere learned that pot smoking makes for unreliable soldiers and nobody used the stuff again until the Vietnam War when American GIs proved the Egyptian experience was no fluke.

The Chinese used marijuana as early as BC we have written records from that date to cure a host of ailments and discovered that even when their pot smoking failed to effect a cure they tended not to give a damn because they were pleasantly stoned and no longer cared about their afflictions. Thus, people with migraine headaches smoked pot and forgot their heads hurt. Soldiers lost limbs in China's endless wars and never missed them after smoking marijuana. There were unconfirmed reports that smoking marijuana made the blind see, the lame walk, the dead rise up and stroll off in a few cases.

Some believe that Lazarus came back from the dead when his bier was placed near a pile of burning marijuana and the smoke leaked into his lungs and jump-started his heart but this story may be apocryphal. Others hint that Lazarus himself may be apocryphal but we can't go into that here. There are recorded instances of the Chinese using marijuana to mollify the peasants and maintain the status quo, something I'm surprised our own politicians haven't seized upon to bamboozle voters and assure their own re-elections.

Still, while grass tends to encourage inactivity and could keep voters away from the polls in droves, it could also backfire as the stuff is known to make it easier for the user to recognize ignoramuses when he sees them and that would be fatal to most politicians. Marijuana was often administered before surgery to both patient and surgeon to anesthetize the former and steady the latter.

A bellows was used to puff gusts of marijuana smoke into the lungs with the doctor and patient taking turns in an act that was known as "hitting the bellows. The net result was the patient's pain was much reduced and any anxiety over the surgery was dispelled entirely. The stoned surgeons felt more confident and worked with steadier hands even though almost all patients died from the surgery because the doctors didn't know what the hell they were doing.

Even so, the patients suffered little thanks to heavy doses of marijuana to take the edge off things. Pot has also done wonders to stimulate creativity down through the ages as it did in the example cited in the Alta Mira caves. It happened that certain people in every society always managed to find a dealer and load up on hemp and these supposedly drug-crazed people were the ones who produced most of the world's art. Greek sculptors, architects, writers, philosophers were all tokers. Socrates was stoned when he drank the hemlock, Plato when he taught Alexander, Aristotle in his perambulations.

Aristophanes wrote under the influence and so did Cicero and Omar Khayyam and Thomas Aquinas and Shakespeare and Rabelais and yours truly. According to reliable sources, a memo actually exists in Columbus' own handwriting where he inquires after his stash in It reads as follows. Hey, where's my stash? I'm not leaving without my stash! I want a bale of high-grade pot on each ship in case we get separated-and a case of rolling papers. Don't forget the incense. And a dozen bongs.

Oh, yeah, you better lay in some food and water, too, and maybe a compass. And some munchies, nuts and chips and dip and bacon rinds. Chris got his pot and it saved the day. One of the sailors kept a journal and he remarked how the men were on the verge of mutiny two days out of port and Chris broke out the weed and held a pot party on the 'fore scoop deck aft of the bilges and got the whole crew stoned.

Once everybody was higher than the topmost spar, Chris announced they were turning back and he turned the ships in a great circle and headed off due west again and nobody knew the difference. While it's a little known fact, America would be a large, wooded lot to this day without pot and all of us would be crammed into nooks and crannies in Europe or Africa or wherever. We should be glad his dealer came through.

Marijuana was grown in the Colonies by none other than George Washington himself. The plant was used for rope and gunnysacks and clothes among other things. It's also likely that at least some people smoked it even if only when the odd rope caught on fire or somebody's gunnysack burned up on him. For all we know, George may have been a closet toker though it seems unlikely since he strikes me as a strait-laced guy who didn't go in much for fun and I never knew a pothead who didn't like fun.

Marijuana was legal in this country and used at will by anyone who wanted it. Pot wasn't made illegal until when the politicians seized on it as an issue they could use to alarm the simple-minded and rushed through laws against it. Although everybody knows pot is essentially harmless, the do-gooders and moralists and demagogues have managed to keep it illegal because it suits their evil purposes so well.

All that's history now, of course. Nineteen ninety-six will go down as the year the forces of good overthrew the evil empire of drug warriors and set the stage for the coming psychoactive renaissance that will reshape all things that need reshaping. A national campaign has already been launched, ads are being readied, money collected, plans laid and it's all being done by a lot of potheads with allegedly fried brains and shaky immune systems who, according to pot's numerous opponents, should be brain dead and incapable of tying their shoes after years of unremitting use.

As a new pot smoker, you'll soon find yourself immersed in the often arcane world of the so-called pot culture. You'll make new friends with people you'd only seen before on post office bulletin boards and doing community service to work off their sentences. Old friends, the straight ones, the booze drinkers and cigarette smokers and closet Rosicrucians will drop you socially once they discover you're smoking pot partly because they regard you as a criminal and partly because your new friends make them nervous.

You can't blame them, though, as guys wearing eye patches and tattoos on their knuckles would make anybody nervous. You'll need these new friends because they're the ones who have the pot you're going to be looking for once you start smoking the stuff and that gets us to a discussion of ways to score your pot.

It's a sad commentary, indeed, when sick people have to risk life and limb in order to get medicine that should be available at any nearby drugstore but the anti-pot crowd would have it no other way. Now, as for actually buying marijuana, we come to a crucial point. Do you like romance? Living on the edge? Good, because you'll likely experience all three when you start buying marijuana on America's mean streets. Remember, unless you have one of the hundreds of certified illnesses and live in one of the more enlightened states that have legalized medicinal pot, buying or even possessing marijuana is a crime punishable by idiots.

If the gendarmes catch you coming out of a pot store with a quarter-pound of prime smoke, you could find yourself in a holding cell with a lot of Bloods and Crips and Hell's Angels types. Of course, you'll already be familiar with guys like this-you may even recognize some of the boys in the tank with you-as these are the very guys who'll sell you your weed. Since all marijuana is illegal, only crooks sell it.

You can't go to your local marijuana store and pick up a quick half-ounce for the weekend, you know. The UPS truck won't bring it, either. Few dealers will make house calls unless you buy in quantity and they've known you for a long time. Your friends won't send you gift weed because they'd rather smoke it themselves than give it to you. There are outfits in Europe that sell marijuana seeds by mail but they won't sell them to you in America because the cagey rascals at the post office know who they are and they'll intercept the packages.

Anybody offering weed by mail is a swindler because the G-men would be on him in a minute so don't send any money. All this means you're on your own in your quest for marijuana and you need to be extra alert and quick on your feet.

If you're about to hand over several hundred dollars to some shadowy Crips guy in a back alley somewhere, you want to make sure you're getting good smoke for your dough. Remember, if you're not satisfied you won't be able to find the guy to demand your money back. Even if you could find him to register your complaint I wouldn't recommend it. Before you hand over your money, insist on sampling some of the weed. Whip out your pipe and fill it with pot. Take a hit and wait a minute. If nothing happens, tell him no, thanks, and get the hell out of that alley because the Crips guy may be insulted that you didn't like his effete pot and decide to take all your money anyway.

He may have a gun so don't argue about it if he proposes such an arrangement. Most pot dealers are men of honor, though, and take pride in their reputations for good service and quality products. Just because they operate out of burned-out tenements and on street corners it doesn't mean they can't be classy guys with good intentions. Think how many lawyers and bankers operate out of ornate offices and commit unarmed robbery on a daily basis. I think I'd rather deal with the Crips and Bloods set.

Some people buy marijuana by using the drive-thru method. The dealer approaches the car and they place their order, give him the money, and he disappears into a nearby alley.

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If they're lucky he returns with the weed. This method of shopping is safer than following three or four Crips down a dark alley, but you run a big risk of being a victim of the old Murphy Game where the would-be seller goes off to confer with "Murphy" and never comes back. The Murphy Game is older than Ireland itself and if it still works it's because most of the time the seller actually returns with the stuff.

If he didn't word would quickly spread and his customers would thin out on him and he'd have to get a real job. The best way to get weed, though, is to know somebody who can get it for you, somebody with underworld connections. Of course, you won't want to know this guy intimately as people with these kinds of friends are suspect themselves so try not to let him know exactly where you live or work.

Always reach him by phone and meet in crowded public places. Refuse invitations to parties or other social events as the guests will probably be guys like him and you'd never get out alive. Once you've established connections and dealers know you're on the up-and-up, it gets easier. They know you're okay and you know they're men of honor so mutual fears are dispelled and you can both relax. Some shut-ins even reach such accord after dealing with intermediaries that the trusted dealer will actually make house calls.

If you live near San Diego or in southern Florida, you may want to take moonlit strolls along the beaches from time to time and look for bales of marijuana that routinely wash up on the shore.

Grandpa's Marijuana Handbook Paperback | Seedsman

People bringing weed in by boat may get jumped by the Coast Guard or DEA guys and be forced to jettison fifty-pound bales of grass into the ocean to avoid a life-without-parole sentence and said bales are then washed up on the shore. You'll often see news reports where some tourist stumbled on several bales of beached weed and immediately summoned the police. He was rewarded with a heartfelt handshake like the one W. Fields received from the manager in The Bank Dick after catching the robber and saving the bank's funds.

The police then rushed off with the weed and smoked the stuff themselves back at headquarters and the tourist went back to Kansas and told everybody what a good citizen he was. He was also an idiot. A bale of high-grade pot is worth close to a million bucks, according to official police reports of the estimated street value of confiscated marijuana. Clearly, if you should find a bale or two, you should make a citizen's arrest at once and seize the stuff in the name of the federal government.

If you happen to run afoul of the law through some mischance before you get home and they find the pot, insist you found the stuff and you were on your way to the nearest police station to turn it in. They won't believe you but it will make a good story for the judge and just may be enough to raise doubts in the jurors' minds to get you off scot-free. Once you get home, get on the phone and call me.

I'm in the book. As a resident of California and a legal user of medicinal pot, I'm fully authorized to handle marijuana in large amounts for distribution to fellow-sufferers and will cheerfully take it off your hands and relieve you fully of any responsibility for it. I will make house calls for a bale of high-grade marijuana anywhere in the continental United States. I don't make pickups outside the country as I'd then be faced with the smuggler's task of getting the stuff past the customs people and the Coast Guard and that's too much hassle even for a bale of weed.

You have my word I will see that the weed is distributed to afflicted people throughout California and you can bask in the warm glow of knowing you've helped really needy people ease their suffering and enjoy a nice high. Of course, I'll require a small percentage of it to cover my own out-of-pocket expenses and allow for a minuscule profit for the great risks I have to run, but I won't take more than, say, fifty-percent.

If that seems a tad high, remember that I will only be able to sell some of the pot for cash; a portion of it will be used for my own personal stash, probably something in the neighborhood of fifteen pounds or so. What could be fairer than that? Another way to acquire marijuana is to steal it from people who have more than they need for themselves. You might call it a kind of redistribution of wealth program where pot is taken from people who are overstocked with it you and given to those less fortunate who don't have any of their own me.

How do you know who these people are? Well, think about it. Mormons don't smoke pot; they don't even drink coffee or tea or eat candy bars so how would you expect them to have a stash of weed hidden behind the organ somewhere? You can steal it from pot smoking friends if you're totally without scruples. When a friend rolls a doobie and leaves his baggie of grass on the table, pinch a bit of his weed when he's not looking and assume an innocent mien. If he suspects you, swear you're innocent. Feign anger that he'd even think such a thing; insist on an apology and refuse to let him share the joint you roll from his weed.

After all, your honor is at stake and you rightly feel insulted. Pass on the Mormons and aim to steal marijuana from known potheads, real tokers who are notorious for chain-smoking joints and sure to have loads of pot wherever they are. If you find bikers, real bikers, tough guys on Harleys with tangled underbrush for beards and yellow or missing teeth and scowls that would make Arnold leave and forget to come back, why, that's where you'll find pot in abundance.

On second thought, maybe stealing pot isn't the best idea, after all. I'm not sure you want a lot of pissed-off bikers looking for you. Besides, you'd probably get caught and they'd beat you to a pulp and then you'd sue me for causing you to do something insane and The California law specifically declares that afflicted people may legally grow marijuana for their own use and that's terrific news because growing pot is a lot safer than buying it from Crips and Bloods and it's also a lot cheaper, too.

You can grow a closet full of weed for a fraction of what it would cost for a like amount purchased on the street. Pot is easy to grow. If you have some acreage you can start a nice crop just by throwing a handful of seeds in the dirt and coming back in the fall to harvest the crop.

Grandpa's Marijuana Handbook Paperback

The chief problem with the acreage scheme is that your pot is subject to discovery by the drug cops or theft by unprincipled potheads in the neighborhood. If the cops find your crop, they'll seize your house and land and throw your behind in the slammer for decades so you'll want to plan accordingly. One solution is to grow your pot on land that isn't yours so they can't seize it. If you plant it in the guy next door's yard and the cops get it, they'll seize his house instead of yours even if he didn't know anything about it.

That's not fair, of course, but don't feel bad; you didn't make that asinine law, did you? A lot of people grow their pot on federal or state land such as parks and national forests to avoid the forfeiture crap and also because such areas are remote and discovery is unlikely. Most growers rig booby traps around their fields to thwart interlopers, cleverly designed pits with sharpened stakes to impale unwanted visitors or shotguns aimed low to blow off legs and other nethermost parts when a tripwire is triggered. If you need help in designing efficient booby traps, give me a call and I'll send you a pamphlet outlining several UL Approved traps that have successfully ensnared and routed thousands of marauding narcs and do-gooders.

A few cleverly concealed pits and a couple of shotguns and your stash will be as safe as Fort Knox gold. Even so, outdoor farming is hazardous at best. You'd be better off growing pot indoors where there's no need for booby traps and little chance of discovery. You can run a modest bhang farm in a closet by hanging a few grow lights over some dirt and watering it once a day. The lights should be suspended from ropes or chains so they can be raised as the pot grows in height. Some fertilizer and water are all that is required to produce a nice crop of ganja in a mere three or four months from seeds to end product.

The book is satire and filled with funny stuff to make for easy reading. Google Grandpa Ganja for more info on the author and tell your friends about your new-found hobby. Read more Read less. Pedagogue Pr; 1 edition September Language: Related Video Shorts 0 Upload your video. Share your thoughts with other customers. Write a customer review. There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. I would recommend to any grand child. Kindle Edition Verified Purchase. One person found this helpful. Very informative and interesting! Very interesting and funny book with some good info and interesting observations about pot.

A good read with a good buzz on. If you're a Senior, or know a Senior who is frightened or otherwise distrustful of marijuana, get this book. If you bought this book for nothing more than a good chuckle, you'd get your moneys worth, but it's far more than that. Keliher has a Doctorate in Education, has been married 46 years and is a Korean Vet In his book he explains, with an excellent sense of humour and surprisingly apt examples, how marijuana can improve a Senior Citizens Quality of Life.

This book is a good look at medical marijuana. But there is to much emphasis on getting stoned. The book should more clinically oriented. The book confuses fact and fiction. I couldn't finish it. Worry about anyone looking for accurate information.

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