In the old days, back when buying and selling marijuana was illegal and considered uncivilized, there was this weird etiquette with dope dealers. You were expected to sit with them, at their place or yours, and share the stuff they’d just sold you. This always felt like a rip-off to me, especially with a guy I hated but who peddled the very best weed. Donnie Nyro would roll cigar-sized joints from the pot he’d just sold me, then pocket the roach after. “You’re gonna have to stop trying to get me high,” he’d say, every time.
Nowadays, one buys cannabis from famous people, some of whom may actually use the stuff themselves. I try to imagine hanging in Westchester County with Martha Stewart, who in addition to monogrammed shelf paper and English-garden-inspired hairbrushes is now selling CBD products: softgels, Meyer lemon CBD oils, kumquat-flavored gummies.
Fortunately, I don’t have to fly to the Hamptons or, worse yet, invite Martha to my place (where she’d almost certainly sneer at my choice of drapery fabric) in order to enjoy her CBD line. I can just drive over to CBD Emporium, where the whole Martha Stewart hemp line is available.
“Martha’s isolates are really popular with people who want something in the under-one-thousand-milligram range,” an Emporium clerk named Jake told me. “People like her berry-flavored things, and she’s got some unflavored stuff that’s doing well for us, too.”
Hey, I told Jake, Martha is the arbiter of better living. Who better to sell us Blood Orange Wellness Gummies in gourmet flavors?
Willie Nelson, for one. Next to Bob Marley, Willie’s kind of the biggest celeb pothead in the history of the world. He’s been smoking since 1954, and singing about it, too. (In 1971’s “In a Memory,” Willie warbled cryptically about “a love that you know from a song/ I'm a voice on a green telephone/ I'm a day that lasted so long.”) He was busted smoking a doobie on the roof of the White House in 1980, and in 2010 was snagged by cops for pot possession.
Willie’s gone from boasting about his drug of choice on The Tonight Show to selling it retail. His Willie’s Reserve line offers everything from live resin to rechargeable vape batteries. I like to think about hanging on Willie’s infamous tour bus after scoring some of his Sunset Sherbet distillate, or maybe a package or two of his wife Annie’s fair-trade infused chocolate. But who am I fooling? Grand Ole Opry legends don’t chill with city weekly columnists. I’m probably safer — if Willie’s fabled consumption is even partly true — just scoring a pack of his Red Headed Stranger ready rolls from Giving Tree Dispensary over on Union Hills Drive.
Giving Tree was all out of Willie Nelson when I called the other day, though. “This is honestly one of our most popular free-rolls,” Janice at Giving Tree told me. She didn’t think it was just country music fans or men with braided hair who liked Willie’s Reserve. “I think it’s just really everybody,” she guessed.
Janice hadn’t heard about the time Willie out-smoked Martha Stewart’s best friend, Snoop Dogg, in a hemp standoff in Amsterdam on 4/20. Giving Tree didn’t carry Snoop Dogg’s CBD line, Leafs by Snoop, she said, which was just as well. When I pictured myself sitting with Snoop in some LA recording studio where I’d come to score a box of his attractively-packaged Lemon Pie Sativa Flower, I saw Snoop sucking down two-thirds of my score before I got out of there. Donnie Nyro all over again.
I knew Larry Sanders would never be that selfish. I imagined if I called the former Milwaukee Bucks power forward and whispered, “I need some Click,” he wouldn’t bogart it once he’d sold me some, perhaps behind the bleachers at an NBA training facility. No one who loves cannabis as much as Larry does — heck, he gave up his basketball gig to focus on how cannabis can help with stress and mental illness — would want anything but the best for me.
But none of the dispensaries I called carried Click. “It’s a consumer lifestyle cannabis mouth spray?” I asked each of them. “Larry Sanders used it to overcome career anxiety and facilitate depression management?”
Someone at Sunflower Meds suggested I try Ulta, a makeup shop in Avondale that sold “hemp products in unusual formats” and might carry a CBD mouth spray. Ulta did not carry Click, but they did have Kristen Bell’s Happy Dance cannabis line.
“We have her body butter and her bath bomb,” a woman named Brianna told me. “Also her CBD Coconut Melt, which is a multi-tasking miracle worker.”
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine buying hemp from Veronica Mars. “You rub it right into your skin!” I could hear her saying. I could see her holding out a tub of coconut-scented lotion. “This bath bomb explodes in your tub for a next-level bathing experience!”
I didn’t want to buy hemp as a lotion from a musical-theater Becky Thatcher, or as a “citrus medley” of gumdrops from an Omnimedia tycoon known previously for flawless pie-crusts and dream weddings. Worn out by all my imaginary dope deals with retired athletes and country music stars, I craved the old days, when at least you knew what you were getting. Even if it meant giving a bunch of it back to the sleazeball who’d just sold it to you.