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THE KNOCK SPOT — A TRUE STORY FROM OG STRAIN

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The Crazy, Stupid, Insane Shit We Did Just to Score a Bag

By: OG Strain | The Plug’s Pages Magazine

There’s a special kind of fear you only feel when you’re sixteen years old, half-dumb, half-invincible, and fiending for a five-dollar bag of weed like it’s a golden ticket.
And for us kids growing up around Schenectady, that fear had a name:

Hamilton Hill.

Back then, the city was different — rougher, colder, carved into invisible lines that everybody knew but nobody talked about. And there we were: two white, middle-class teenagers driving my parents’ car straight into the heart of a neighborhood we had no business being in.

But when you’re sixteen and hungry for a smoke, logic takes the night off.

THE WALK UP

I’ll never forget the way the streets felt the first time I pulled onto Lincoln Street or around the corner on Emmett. The houses leaned in like they were listening. Every porch had eyes. Every alley had shadows breathing inside it.

We weren’t going to see a friend.
We weren’t visiting a buddy’s cousin.
We were going to a knock spot.

If you know, you know — and if you don’t, let me paint it:

A knock spot is the kind of weed house where you never see the dealer.
No faces. No names.
Just a dark hallway, a locked door, and a slit in the bottom jamb.

You knock.
They knock back.

You slide your crumpled five under the door.
And a little dime bag slides out like some haunted vending machine.

That was it.

Clean. Fast. Silent.

And absolutely terrifying.

TEENAGERS WITH A DEATH WISH

Geoff and I had done it before. We were veterans — or at least we thought we were. We pulled up in my parents’ car, four or five fives in our pockets, ready to grab enough to roll a couple joints and take a long, stupid bone cruise through the backroads.

Sixteen years old.
Barely old enough to drive.
Stupid enough to think we were untouchable.

I went inside the building first. Every sound echoed like footsteps behind me. Anyone could’ve been in there. Anyone could’ve locked the door behind us. Anyone could’ve done anything they wanted and nobody would’ve known.

But we wanted those bags more than we wanted safety.

That’s how teenagers think.

I grabbed the dime bags, stuffed them in my sock, and came back out to the car.

Jeff looked at me like, “Let’s go, bro.”

So I threw the car in drive…

THE LIGHTS EXPLODE

🚨 Blue. Red. White.
The whole street lit up like a firework show.

Two — no, three — Schenectady police cruisers boxed us in.

My stomach didn’t drop.
It straight-up evaporated.

I wasn’t afraid of getting arrested.
I was afraid of what cops in that era of Schenectady were known for.

Two officers came to the driver’s side, one to my window. He looked me up and down, and I’ll never forget it — his voice was calm, almost friendly, but colder than the December air.

“You’re a big kid,” he said. “But if a few people up here decide to jump you, there’s nothing you’re gonna be able to do. You don’t belong here. Stay out of this neighborhood.”

I didn’t know whether he was warning me…

…or threatening me.

Then he leaned closer. So close I could smell the stale coffee on his breath. And he said the line that froze my bones solid:

“Next time I see you up here, I’m gonna have a piece of crack — and you’re gonna own it.
You understand me?”

He wasn’t guessing.
He wasn’t bluffing.
He was telling me he would plant drugs on me and end my life before it even started.

They confiscated our weed — didn’t even write a ticket — and sent us on our way with that message burned into our skulls.

AND THEN WE DID THE DUMBEST THING HUMANLY POSSIBLE

The second the cops pulled away…

…the second their tail lights disappeared around the corner…

Geoff looks at me.
I look at him.

And without saying a word…

…I drove around the block.

Right back to the same knock spot.
The same house.
The same danger.

Why?

Because we were sixteen.

Because we were idiots.

Because they took our weed.

We sprinted inside, grabbed three or four more dime bags, and got the hell out of there—half convinced we’d see those red and blue lights again at any second.

But somehow, by some miracle, we didn’t.

We drove off into the night, hearts pounding, lungs tight, laughing like two kids who had no idea how close they had come to completely destroying their futures.

LOOKING BACK NOW?

I can’t believe we survived half the shit we did just to get high.

Schenectady was a different world back then.
Hamilton Hill was a different universe.
And knock spots?
Man… those were a whole horror movie on their own.

But that was the grind.
That was the culture.
That was the life before dispensaries, before legalization, before anyone cared about branding or terp profiles or boutique buds.

Back then…

We risked everything for a five-dollar bag of ground up mids.

And somehow, by the grace of God we made it out alive to tell the story.

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1 Comment

1 Comment

  1. GreeneDream

    November 16, 2025 at 7:57 pm

    Great story!! Those were the days!!

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The OG Strain Effect: Coincidence… or Good Promo?

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Every now and then, somebody asks me:

“OG, why do you spend so much time promoting these cannabis companies?”

Simple.

Because I love this industry.

I love seeing passionate people build something from nothing. I love finding the hidden gems. I love discovering the growers, dispensaries, and brands that are actually doing it right before everybody else catches on.

And if you’ve followed my work for any length of time, you’ve probably noticed a strange pattern.

The brands I put a spotlight on tend to blow up.

Now before anybody starts throwing tomatoes at me, let me be crystal clear:

I am not claiming I built these businesses.

I didn’t create their products.

I didn’t build their customer base from scratch.

I didn’t develop their genetics.

I didn’t create their business plans.

The people behind these brands did all of that themselves.

What I do is something much simpler.

I find greatness and I point at it.

Then I tell the community where to find it.

That’s it.

But apparently, that’s a pretty powerful thing.

Exhibit A: Electric City Cannabis Company

When I first started talking about Electric City Cannabis Company, they weren’t the biggest name in the 518.

They were newer.

Competition was everywhere.

Every dispensary was fighting for attention.

But I saw something.

They were doing things right.

Their customer service was on point.

Their product selection was solid.

Their passion was obvious.

So I started writing about them.

I started talking about them.

I started putting a spotlight on them.

Again, I didn’t create their success.

They earned every bit of it.

But today?

They’re opening a second location in Gloversville.

That’s not luck.

That’s the result of a quality business executing at a high level.

Did my promotion help?

I think it’d be pretty hard to argue that it didn’t.

Some of those people became loyal customers.

How many?

Who knows.

But it happened.

And when quality meets visibility, good things tend to happen.

Exhibit B: Higher Beings Powered by Hudson Valley Green

Last year, I attended a cannabis cup in Palenville.

Over fifty vendors.

Over fifty.

You know what that means?

A lot of walking.

A lot of talking.

A lot of smelling jars and trying products.

Basically the Olympics for cannabis enthusiasts.

After searching through vendor after vendor, one company stood out above the rest.

Higher Beings powered by Hudson Valley Green.

The quality was undeniable.

The passion was undeniable.

The products spoke for themselves.

So I spent the next year doing what I do best.

I talked about them.

I promoted them.

I let the community know what I had found.

Did I create their products?

No.

Did I create their business?

Absolutely not.

But I’d be lying if I said the spotlight didn’t help.

When you’ve built a following that trusts your opinion, people listen.

Especially the people who have followed my work for years and have seen me call things correctly time and time again.

When I point people toward a company, they check it out.

They give it a chance.

And when the quality is really there, they come back.

The reality is simple:

When you’re operating in an industry where social media platforms constantly limit cannabis content, every bit of exposure matters.

Every article matters.

Every video matters.

Every recommendation matters.

And every new customer matters.

The Newest Example: Gilly’s Greens

Now let’s talk about a company that’s still writing its success story.

Gilly’s Greens.

If you’ve been paying attention, you’ve already seen me talking about them.

Why?

Because I see the same ingredients I’ve seen before.

Passion.

Consistency.

Quality.

Dedication.

The man behind the operation, John Gilboy, isn’t waiting for success to magically appear.

He’s putting in the work.

He’s building a reputation.

He’s producing quality products.

Those things have absolutely nothing to do with me.

He deserves the credit for every bit of that.

But now I’m putting a spotlight on what he’s doing.

And if history has taught me anything, people are going to pay attention.

Will Gilly’s Greens become one of the next major names people are talking about?

I think so.

Not because of me.

Because they’re doing it right.

Coincidence? Maybe.

At this point, there are only two possible explanations.

Either:

I have an incredible ability to identify cannabis businesses that are destined for success before everybody else notices.

Or…

My promotion actually helps accelerate that success.

Honestly, it’s probably both.

The businesses are already putting in the work.

They’re already producing great products.

They’re already building something worth supporting.

I simply help more people discover them faster.

Why This Matters

The cannabis industry is more competitive than ever.

Everybody wants attention.

Everybody wants customers.

Everybody wants to become the next big name.

But here’s the truth.

The best products don’t always win.

The loudest products often do.

Visibility matters.

Brand recognition matters.

Community trust matters.

And that’s where I come in.

For years, I’ve built relationships throughout the cannabis community.

I’m not interested in promoting garbage.

I’m not interested in hyping products that don’t deserve it.

My reputation is worth too much.

When I put a spotlight on a company, it’s because I genuinely believe they’re doing something special.

And the community has learned to trust that.

The Invitation

So if you’re a grower…

A dispensary owner…

A breeder…

A processor…

An event organizer…

Or a cannabis entrepreneur building something incredible…

Let’s talk.

If you’re doing things right, I want to know about it.

If you’re passionate about what you’re creating, I want to see it.

I invest my time into the people I believe in.

The question is:

Are you building something worth believing in?

Because if you are, OG Strain might just be your next spotlight.

And if history is any indication…

That spotlight tends to shine pretty bright.

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THE FACEBOOK SNITCH WHO THINKS HE’S SAVING THE INDUSTRY

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Or: How to Spot Someone Losing an Imaginary War Against Successful People

By OG Strain

The New York cannabis industry is growing.

You can feel it.

You see it at events. You see it at vendor pop-ups. You see it when people who started with a folding table and a dream are suddenly building legitimate brands, creating jobs, launching products, and putting money back into their communities.

Despite the economy doing its best impression of a dumpster fire, there are people in this industry making things happen.

And do you know what most of those successful people have in common?

They’re helping each other.

They’re networking.

They’re supporting one another’s businesses.

They’re showing up.

They’re collaborating.

They’re sharing opportunities.

They’re building.

Then there’s the other guy.

You know the guy.

Every industry has one.

The human equivalent of a flat tire.

The person who walks into a room and somehow lowers the property value.

Nothing is ever their fault.

Their business failed? Someone sabotaged them.

Nobody wants to work with them? Politics.

Nobody answers their calls? Conspiracy.

Nobody buys their products? The industry is rigged.

Meanwhile, everyone else is looking around wondering if they’ve considered the possibility that they’re simply unpleasant to be around.

Now here’s where things get funny.

Because instead of improving themselves…

Instead of learning…

Instead of networking…

Instead of asking successful people how they achieved what they achieved…

They choose a different path.

They become Facebook Batman.

Not the cool Batman.

The weird Batman.

The Batman whose superpower is reporting posts from his mother’s basement.

Click.

Report.

Click.

Report.

Click.

Report.

Imagine dedicating your life to becoming the hall monitor of the internet.

Imagine seeing someone succeed and thinking:

“Instead of improving my own situation, I’m going to spend the next three hours trying to get their post removed.”

That’s not strategy.

That’s not business.

That’s not activism.

That’s not entrepreneurship.

That’s professional-level loser behavior.

The truth is that successful people generally don’t spend much time obsessing over unsuccessful people.

They’re too busy.

They’re working.

They’re building.

They’re growing.

And that’s the real tragedy.

The New York cannabis community has never had more opportunities.

There are events happening every month.

There are brands looking for partnerships.

There are creators looking for collaborators.

There are businesses looking for good people.

But some individuals would rather spend their energy trying to tear down a ladder than climbing one.

That’s a losing strategy every single time.

The cannabis industry isn’t being built by the people who report posts.

It’s being built by the people who show up.

The people who work hard.

The people who support others.

The people who understand that another person’s success does not take success away from them.

Success is not a pie.

Your neighbor getting a bigger slice doesn’t make yours smaller.

Everyone notices.

Everyone sees the negativity.

Everyone sees the jealousy.

Everyone sees the bitterness.

And while they’re busy trying to block someone else’s progress, the rest of the industry keeps moving forward without them.

So here’s a revolutionary idea.

If you’re spending your evenings reporting Facebook posts from people who have never harmed you, maybe close the laptop.

Go outside.

Meet people.

Learn something.

Build something.

Create something.

Contribute something.

Because at the end of the day, the people building businesses are going to keep building businesses.

The people creating opportunities are going to keep creating opportunities.

And the self-appointed internet police force is still going to be sitting there wondering why nobody invited them to the party.

The answer isn’t complicated.

People enjoy being around builders.

Nobody enjoys being around wrecking balls.

And that’s why one group keeps growing while the other keeps refreshing Facebook.

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IF YOUR WEED IS FIRE, WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THE POLICE?

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A Love Letter to the Facebook Narcs of the Cannabis Community

By OG Strain

There is something in the cannabis community that drives me absolutely insane.

And no, it isn’t overpriced eighths.

It isn’t people calling every strain “gas” when it smells like a wet hamster and a bag of lawn clippings.

It isn’t even the guy who shows up to every event wearing a giant gold cannabis leaf chain the size of a hubcap.

No.

The thing I’m sick of is the sneaky, grimy, backdoor nonsense that comes from people who can’t compete honestly.

You know exactly who I’m talking about.

The Facebook reporters.

The post flaggers.

The undercover hall monitors of the cannabis world.

The people who see somebody succeeding and immediately start clicking buttons like they’re trying to save the nation from a national emergency.

Imagine being in the cannabis community and spending your free time reporting cannabis posts.

Think about that for a second.

You’re standing in a room full of growers, hash makers, vendors, creators, event organizers, photographers, reviewers, breeders, and entrepreneurs…

…and somehow you’ve decided your contribution is becoming Deputy Facebook.

Congratulations.

What a legacy.

Here’s the reality nobody wants to say out loud:

If your product is truly amazing, you don’t need dirty tricks.

If your flower is loud, it’ll speak for itself.

If your rosin melts faces, people will find it.

If your prices are fair, your customers will come back.

If your business is solid, nobody can stop you.

It’s the business equivalent of losing a race and deciding to slash everybody else’s tires.

You still didn’t win.

You just looked ridiculous.

The funniest part?

These people actually think they’re accomplishing something.

They’re not.

Every successful person I’ve ever met in this community has one thing in common:

They’re too busy building.

They’re too busy creating.

Too busy growing.

Too busy networking.

Too busy working.

Meanwhile, some miserable clown is sitting at home refreshing Facebook like:

“That post got 47 likes. Better report it.”

“My competitor got a new customer. Better report it.”

“Someone is having success. This cannot stand.”

Brother, go touch grass.

Actually, don’t.

You’ll probably report the grass.

And here’s the thing that really blows my mind.

I support everybody who’s doing things the right way.

I don’t care if you’re from my circle.

I don’t care if you’re from another circle.

I don’t care if you’ve got a giant personality.

I don’t care if you’re cocky.

I don’t care if you’ve got fans.

I don’t care if you’ve got haters.

If you’ve got a quality product and you’re treating people fairly, I’ll support it.

Period.

Because that’s what healthy communities do.

Healthy communities build each other up.

Weak communities spend all day trying to pull each other down.

The difference is enormous.

One creates growth.

The other creates drama.

And here’s a lesson I’ve learned after years of watching people in every industry imaginable:

While they’re busy watching everyone else, everyone else is busy moving forward.

While they’re plotting, others are producing.

While they’re reporting posts, others are building brands.

That’s why these tactics never work long-term.

Success isn’t something you can report away.

You can’t click a button and erase talent.

You can’t file a complaint and eliminate hard work.

You can’t flag somebody’s determination.

And you definitely can’t stop an entire community from recognizing quality when they see it.

The cannabis community has enough challenges already.

We don’t need people acting like undercover referees in a game nobody asked them to officiate.

We need better products.

Better events.

Better networking.

Better businesses.

Better opportunities.

We need people competing through excellence instead of pettiness.

So to all the Facebook narcs out there, I have one simple suggestion:

Put the energy you’re spending on reporting people into improving your own situation.

Develop a better product.

Learn a new skill.

Build a stronger brand.

Create something people actually want.

Because at the end of the day, the market decides who wins.

Not the report button.

And if your best weapon against the competition is a Facebook violation form…

You already lost.

OG Strain

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