From the Desk of Herb Greenstein, CEO & Editor-in-Chief

The Heart of a Magazine: Why I’m Proud of the Team Behind The Plug’s Pages

Running a cannabis magazine in 2025 isn’t a simple job — it’s a mission. As CEO and Editor-in-Chief of The Plug’s Pages, I oversee every corner of this operation: editorial approval, fact-checking, partnerships, legal protection, and quality control.

It’s my responsibility to make sure that every article we publish is accurate, ethical, and worthy of the community we serve. And in an industry where trends shift daily and misinformation spreads fast, that’s no small task.

But here’s the truth most people never see:
A magazine is only as strong as the writers behind it.

And today, I can proudly say our writing team is the strongest it’s ever been.

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OG Strain: A New Voice That Elevated the Entire Publication

When OG Strain joined our staff, it immediately changed the energy of the magazine. You don’t often find someone with his mix of real-world cannabis experience, academic writing skill, sharp humor, and industry passion.

He knows weed.
He knows people.
And he knows how to communicate both.

Every article he’s submitted has raised the bar for this publication. As CEO, I’m responsible for approving every piece of content before it goes out — and OG Strain gives me material I’m proud to approve.

He’s become one of our greatest assets, easing my workload and strengthening our entire editorial direction. To put it simply:

Hiring OG Strain was one of the best decisions we’ve made at The Plug’s Pages.

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Seymour Buds: The Quiet Technician With a Cultivator’s Mind

And then there’s Mike — better known in these pages as Seymour Buds.
Grounded. Knowledgeable. Analytical.
A cultivator at heart with a writer’s discipline.

Together, OG Strain and Seymour Buds form a duo that has transformed this magazine from the inside out. They don’t just write articles — they set the standard for what cannabis journalism should look like.

Thanks to them, I’m able to focus more on guiding the vision of this magazine and less on putting out fires. They’ve taken a massive weight off my shoulders, and I’m grateful for it every day.

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What I Do — and Why I Love It

Most people don’t realize how many layers there are to running a cannabis magazine.

I manage legal compliance.
I review partnerships.
I approve every article before publication.
I guard this brand from misinformation, liability, and unnecessary noise.
I steer the creative direction of every issue.
And I stay deeply involved because leadership without involvement is just a title on paper.

My job is to protect this magazine and elevate it.

And with a team like this behind me, that job is finally getting easier.

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⭐ NEW ANNOUNCEMENT: A Community Submission Day?

I want to hear from YOU — the readers.

As our magazine grows, one thing has become clear:
The community has a voice, and it deserves to be heard.

So I’ve been toying with a new idea — and I want to run it by you all directly.

I’m considering launching a weekly feature where YOU, the readers, can submit your own cannabis-related articles for possible publication.

Think of it like:

“Free-For-All Friday”
or
“Write-Up Wednesday”

— we’ll finalize the name later.

The concept is simple:
• Once a week, the community submits articles
• I personally read through the entries
• The best one — the one that stands out in quality, tone, and authenticity — gets published in the magazine

It would give new writers a platform.
It would bring fresh voices into our world.
And it would strengthen the bond between this magazine and the cannabis culture it represents.

I want to know what you think.
If our readers want this feature, I’ll launch it.

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The Future of The Plug’s Pages

We’re entering a new era — not just as a magazine, but as a movement. The cannabis industry is evolving faster than ever, and we’re evolving with it. With new growers, new strains, new voices, and a growing readership, The Plug’s Pages is becoming a cultural pillar.

We aren’t just documenting cannabis culture.
We’re helping shape it.

I’m proud of this team.
I’m proud of this magazine.
And I’m excited about the future we’re building — together.

— Herb Greenstein
CEO & Editor-in-Chief
The Plug’s Pages Magazine

By OG Strain – The Plug’s Pages Magazine

If there’s one truth that keeps proving itself in this cannabis game, it’s this:
Real recognize real… and real recognize fake.

I learned that lesson again not long ago after a debate — the same debate I’ve had a dozen times — except this time, it hit different. This time, the person on the other side knew what he was talking about. This time, it was Danni Burns, the CEO and owner of Hudson Valley Green, one of the most respected operations doing it right here in New York.

And the debate?
Whole Melt concentrates.

I’ve defended Whole Melt for years because honestly, I lucked out. The stuff I was getting tasted good, hit hard, and didn’t break the bank. I’m a medical dabber — I go through a gram or two a day for pain relief — so affordability isn’t a luxury, it’s mandatory. When dispensaries want $80–$100 for two grams and I can get a full ounce of Whole Melt for the same price? Man… it felt like a no-brainer.

But here’s what Danni hit me with:
“OG, those empty Whole Melt jars can be bought online by anybody.”

And that one sentence changed everything.

He wasn’t yelling.
He wasn’t disrespectful.
He wasn’t talking from emotion.
He was talking from knowledge — real industry knowledge from someone who actually produces clean, safe, tested concentrates.

Danni explained that the brand became so popular that counterfeiters flooded the streets with fake jars filled with who-knows-what. Real jars, fake product. People getting scammed left and right. And while I might’ve gotten lucky with a reliable plug, a lot of people weren’t getting the same luck. They were smoking mystery wax in a shiny jar.

That was the first time someone made me actually pump the brakes and say,
“Alright… you got a point.”

And that’s the power of talking to a real one.

Because just for contrast?
Let me tell you about the exact same debate I had with an employee at Madame Jane’s in Schenectady.

THE DIFFERENCE IS NIGHT AND DAY

Where Danni had facts, professionalism, and respect…
the Madame Jane’s employee had none of the above.

No logic.
No industry insight.
No professionalism.
Just swear words, attitude, and childish insults like calling Whole Melt “whole poop.”

Nothing he said had substance. Nothing he said addressed my actual point. It was the kind of conversation that pushes customers out the door, not brings them in. Honestly, Madame Jane’s has become known for that. Drama in the back, drama in the front, employees too blasted to function, staff arguing, and resumes full of the kind of paperwork that gets you checked in jail — not hired in a high-traffic dispensary. It’s chaos. And chaos is the enemy of quality.

That’s why I don’t shop there unless the universe gives me no other option.

REAL LEADERS DO REAL THINGS

Meanwhile, Danni wasn’t just debating me — he was educating me.

I told him, “Bro, the only reason I even stick with Whole Melt is the price. I pay like $100–$200 for an ounce. That’s cheaper than dispensaries.”

And without missing a beat, he goes:
“OG, I got you. Say less.”

Then he tells me he makes so much concentrate himself — real concentrate, real flavor, real purity, real testing — that he’s got jars sitting at home with ounces of personal head stash. And he told me straight up he’d hook me up with real dabs, clean and safe, for the same price I’m already paying for questionable jars off the street.

That’s when you know someone is built different.
That’s when you know someone is truly for the people, not for the profit.

THE JAR ISN’T THE BRAND — THE PEOPLE BEHIND IT ARE

This article isn’t about dissing Whole Melt.
It’s not even about the fakes flooding the market.

It’s about who you can trust in an industry where anybody can slap a sticker on a jar and call themselves a brand.

Danni Burns is the kind of guy who can disagree with you and still respect you.
The kind of guy who leads by example.
The kind of guy who cares about the community staying safe, staying informed, and staying aware of the difference between hype and quality.

A real one.
A solid one.
A friend.

And like I said at the top —
real recognize real… and real recognize fake.

Written by OG Strain for The Plug’s Pages Magazine

There are stories from Hamilton Hill… and then there are stories from Hamilton Hill.
If you’re from Schenectady, you know the difference immediately.

This one sits squarely in the “I can’t believe we survived that” category.

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Chasing Five-Dollar Bags on “The Hill”

Me and my boy Geoff were maybe sixteen — two suburban kids from North Glenville/Burnt Hills who had no business driving around Hamilton Hill at night chasing five-dollar bags of weed. We weren’t gangsters. We didn’t carry illegal pistols. We were hunters — rifles and shotguns, sure — but not street life. Not this.

But that night… that world pulled us right in.

We’re sitting at a light on Lincoln Street when two dudes start arguing outside a house. One flashes a tiny pistol. The other laughs:

“Pull that lil’ peashooter out — what you gonna do with that thing?”

Before we even react, the one with the gun walks straight to our van, opens the door, gets in, and says:

“Drive.”

So we did.

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“Yo, pull up — that’s my boy.”

We roll around the corner and another dude jumps in. No hesitation, no explanation.

Just:
“We need you to drive us to Albany.”

We didn’t know if they were asking or telling. The gun made that clear.

Now picture this:
Two white middle-class sixteen-year-olds with awkward teen mustaches suddenly chauffeuring two armed strangers through Hamilton Hill in a minivan. Fear hit us harder than anything we’d smoked in our lives.

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“Y’all cops?”

Dealers always ask customers if they’re cops when they meet someone new — that’s just how the street works. Tonight it hit different because the question came from someone holding a pistol pointed loosely in our direction.

They checked a little bag between the seats.

My buddy Geoff — comedian under pressure — blurts out:

“Oh that bag? That’s all our cop stuff.”

Horrible timing.
Legendary delivery.

The guy snatched the bag and tore through it. Empty. He relaxed — just slightly — but still didn’t fully believe us.

Then he said:

“We gonna find out if y’all cops.”

And without thinking, I stupidly nodded yes.

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The Test

He cracks open a blunt wrap and starts breaking down weed. I think, Cool. I’ll smoke a blunt to prove I’m not a cop.

Then he says the words that froze my spine:

“We ’bout to smoke a laced blunt. You ever smoke dust? You ever smoke that angel?”

Whatever he sprinkled in, it wasn’t weed.
Crack, angel dust, something chemical — the smell was unmistakable. They sparked it and passed it.

I hit it. Immediately felt that cold, cocaine-burning taste. My whole body went loose and wavy. Geoff stayed locked in survival mode. I drifted into some bizarre half-calm while the gun never left our general direction.

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Albany — The Aimless Mission

Hours later, yes — we actually were in Albany.
Not for a drop-off. Not for a plan.
Just circling blocks with no destination, drinking 40s, smoking laced blunts, and living inside a nightmare wearing a party mask.

That’s when they spotted the girl walking.

“Yo yo yo! That’s my girl! That’s my mama! Jump in!”

She gets in the van, looks around, sees me and Geoff in the front, and immediately freaks:

“You want me to do that with TWO WHITE KIDS sitting right there? Are you crazy?!”

One of the dudes snaps back:

“These are my n**s! They been rollin’ with us all night!”

Then he opens his palm — full of what looked like crack — and tells her she just lost out.

She went wide-eyed.
Then he literally kicked her out the van, foot to her backside, and slammed the door.

Gun comes back up.
“Drive.”

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“Watch these dudes. Don’t let ’em leave.”

Every time they ran into a corner store for more 40s and blunts, one stayed behind… with the gun.

That told us everything:
We weren’t their friends.
We weren’t their crew.
We were hostages that could drive.

And through all of this, the thing me and Geoff feared most wasn’t them —
It was getting pulled over.

We were terrified of being caught with felony narcotics, illegal guns, and two strangers telling the cops we were with them.

That fear alone kept us glued to our seats.

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The Drop-Off

Near dawn, they went into a store again. This was our moment. We could’ve driven off. We could’ve escaped.

But for some dumb, teenage, “don’t make it worse” instinct…
we waited.

They came out shocked.

“Yo… y’all cool. Most people woulda dipped.”

And just like that, it was over.

They had us drop them around the block, got out, and disappeared into the early morning air.

I exhaled for the first time all night.
Geoff sat silent — traumatized.

We looked back and saw all the tobacco they dumped out rolling those blunts, so we went straight to the 24-hour car wash and vacuumed that van like our lives depended on it.

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Another Night on The Hill

Two dumb kids from suburbia chasing $5 bags in the wrong place at the wrong time ended up on a full-blown hostage adventure — guns, laced blunts, 40s, chaos, and a girl literally kicked out the van.

Hamilton Hill gave us memories we never asked for… but it gave us stories.

Some people have ghost stories.
We’ve got The Laced Blunt Kidnapping of ’95.

And somehow — by God’s mercy —
we lived to tell it.