Written by Herb Greenstein for The Plug’s Pages Magazine

There’s a special kind of confidence that doesn’t come from money, fame, or even a fresh haircut. No, no. I’m talking about that I-got-the-best-weed-on-the-planet-in-my-pocket kind of confidence. The type that changes your walk. Straightens your spine. Puffs your chest out like you just got promoted to CEO of “Smells Like Gas Incorporated.”

You know the feeling. You just picked up that rare batch—the kind of bud that looks like it was hand-trimmed by angels wearing nitrile gloves. It’s so beautiful you low-key feel guilty breaking it up. You sit there staring at it like, “Lord, which one of these divine nuggets do I sacrifice first?” Because every single one looks too perfect to burn.

But eventually, temptation wins. You pick your least-pretty bud—still a ten out of ten—and you roll that thing like it’s a royal ceremony. You don’t just smoke this weed, you experience it. You take that first hit, and suddenly, you’re not the same person anymore. You’re upgraded. Enlightened. Levitating half an inch above the carpet with a grin that says, “I’m better than everyone in this room—and they all know it.”

And trust me, they do know it. You can’t sneak this weed anywhere. You could double-bag a half gram, shove it in your sock, and people three rooms away would still be like, “Bro, who smells like a dispensary just exploded?”

That’s when you just smile. Because you know. You’re not just smelling loud—you’re screaming. You’re walking around radiating “premium top-shelf only” energy. Folks start looking at you like you just pulled up in a Lamborghini made of kief.

This is holiday-season weed. That once-a-year “Christmas Tree Zaza.” Some call it kind bud. Some call it fresh cut. Some just call it miraculous. Whatever name you give it, it’s that rare strain that makes you feel festive just holding it. You could slap a bow on the bag and call it a gift.

And the best part? It turns you into the friendliest person alive. You suddenly wanna share it with everyone. Your homies, your neighbor, the mailman, the lady walking her dog. If world peace had a scent, this would be it. But then you remember… this stuff’s limited. Like, limited-limited. So you stash it like it’s the last piece of cheesecake at Thanksgiving—safe, sacred, and strictly for special occasions.

So if you’re blessed enough to come across that top-tier, jaw-dropping, “every-head-turns-when-you-walk-in” holiday bud this year—cherish it. Smoke it slow. Show it off proudly. And if people say you smell like you rolled around in a grow room? Take it as a compliment, king. You’ve earned that stank.

Because when you’re carrying that legendary gas…
You don’t just smell loud.
You are loud.

⸻

About the Author:
Herb Greenstein is the CEO of The Plug’s Pages Magazine — the man with the plan, the pen, and the permanent plug.

By Herb Greenstein – The Plug’s Pages Magazine

Listen, there’s a strange epidemic in the cannabis world — and no, it’s not another shortage of Zig-Zags. It’s the “Price Tag Police.” You know exactly who I’m talking about — those self-appointed weed accountants who can’t enjoy a single puff without asking, “Bro, how much you pay for that?”

Like… why do you care, Jeff? You didn’t chip in, you didn’t roll it, and you sure as hell didn’t grow it. Yet somehow, you’re the IRS of indica, standing there like a budget analyst with a Bic lighter.

Let’s get one thing straight — a true cannabis connoisseur doesn’t care what the price tag says. When he sees that once-in-a-lifetime, diamond-dusted nug that smells like it was kissed by Snoop Dogg’s guardian angel, he’s not checking his wallet — he’s checking his heartbeat. Because that man knows quality when he sees it, and he knows it don’t come cheap.

But here come the haters — “I wouldn’t pay that much!” Of course you wouldn’t, Carl. You also think gas station gummies are medicine and “shake” is a lifestyle. The same people who brag about saving money on mids are the ones showing up to the sesh with bud that looks like it’s been stored in a sock drawer since 2017.

Here’s the truth: the real heads aren’t chasing discounts; they’re chasing experiences. The smell, the flavor, the buzz — it’s art. It’s passion. It’s not about the deal, it’s about the feel. You don’t go to a five-star restaurant and ask the chef why the steak costs more than a microwave burrito, right? You savor the flavor, baby. You respect the craft.

Meanwhile, the bargain hunters are out here judging everyone else’s purchase like they’re running Weed Consumer Reports. “You paid WHAT?!” Yeah, I did. Because it’s worth it. Because while you’re lighting up something that smells like hay and disappointment, I’m over here taking a hit of God’s personal stash.

Look, there’s nothing wrong with being thrifty. But there’s something deeply funny about people who act like cannabis has a moral price limit. That’s like telling Picasso his paint was too expensive. “Bro, you could’ve got that canvas cheaper if you went to Hobby Lobby.” Yeah, and it wouldn’t have been art, Steve.

So here’s my humble advice from one herb lover to another: smoke what you love and let people spend what they want. The connoisseur’s motto is simple — if it’s fire, it’s coming home with me. No haggling, no debating, no calculator app.

Because at the end of the day, when that joint makes its way around the circle and everyone leans back with that silent, satisfied “damn,” nobody’s thinking about the price. They’re thinking about how you — the one who dropped a few extra bucks — brought the real deal.

And to all the price tag police out there… relax. Roll something up, take a hit, and maybe you’ll finally understand what the rest of us already know: good weed ain’t cheap, and cheap weed ain’t good.

(Herb Greenstein is a cannabis columnist for The Plug’s Pages Magazine. He’s known for his strong opinions, his weak tolerance, and his firm belief that you can’t put a price on perfection.)

By Seymour Buds

Whether you’re chilling solo, passing a joint with friends, or just looking for a laugh while your favorite strain kicks in, sometimes all you need is a little cannabis humor. We’ve rounded up some of the funniest, punchiest weed jokes to keep your sesh lit and your spirits higher than a double-stack brownie. Sit back, spark up, and get ready to laugh—because these jokes hit harder than your favorite indica.

Why don’t stoners ever play hide and seek? Because good luck hiding when you can’t even remember where you are.

One time I was smoking a wooden bowl, and it just kept hitting and hitting and hitting… Turns out, the bowl was on fire. I was literally smoking a bowl. That puts a whole new meaning on “lit.”

Why did the stoner plant a light bulb? Because he wanted to grow a power plant.

Why did the stoner stare at the orange juice carton? Because it said “concentrate.”

If someone’s hanging onto the joint forever, you just gotta ask: “Do you always smoke alone?”

Why did the stoner bring a notebook to the sesh? He wanted to take high-tory notes.

What do you call a stoner who just got promoted? A high achiever.

Why did the stoner sit in front of the mirror for hours? He wanted to see himself get baked.

What’s a stoner’s favorite type of music? Anything with a sick bass… and a lot of buds.

What do you call a stoner’s favorite instrument? A baked-ulele.

And there you have it—ten jokes to keep your sesh lit and your laughter even higher. Life’s too short to take seriously, especially when you’re holding a joint. Pass it, puff it, and remember: if you’re still staring at your orange juice carton, don’t worry—you’re not alone. And hey, these jokes might be corny AF—but if you weren’t high as a kite, you might’ve forgotten to laugh lol. 😂