Let me paint you a picture real quick…

It’s summer 2026 in New York. You’re not stuck on your couch scrolling through the same 12 people arguing in comment sections. You’re not watching someone else “live life” through a phone screen. You’re somewhere different.

You’re under the pines. Music is hitting from two stages. The air smells like food trucks, creativity, and maybe a little something sticky from the BudStock side of the world. Somewhere in the distance, someone just won the Home Growers Championship and is acting like they just got drafted into the NBA.

Welcome to Summer High Fest.

And according to Woodz Treez, this isn’t just another cannabis event trying to slap a logo on a flyer and call it culture. This is something built from the ground up with intention, experience, and a little bit of “we’re tired of waiting for someone else to do it right, so we did it ourselves.”

THREE EVENTS. ONE WEEKEND. ZERO CHILL.

Summer High Fest is not playing small.

2026 marks the first-ever Summer High Festival, but don’t get it twisted—this thing is built on serious foundation:

Summer High Music Festival (Year 1)
BudStock Cannabis Convention (Year 4)
The Home Growers Championship (Year 3)

So what you’re really getting is not one event… but three communities colliding into one giant weekend experience.

And yes—there are designated 21+ cannabis areas, but there’s also something you don’t see enough in this space: a family-friendly festival atmosphere outside those zones. Music, art, camping, food, vendors, workshops… the whole spectrum.

In other words: if you can’t find something to enjoy here, you might just be the problem.

WHY THIS WAS BUILT (AND WHY IT MATTERS)

Woodz Treez made one thing very clear in his interview: this didn’t come from a trend. It came from necessity.

After helping build festival experiences at another venue that eventually shifted, the vision didn’t die—it evolved.

Instead of folding it, they rebuilt it stronger.

And the mission stayed the same:

A safe, welcoming space where music lovers, artists, growers, cannabis enthusiasts, families, and first-time festival goers can exist together without chaos, ego, or division.

That’s a rare sentence in 2026.

WHAT YOU’RE WALKING INTO

If you pull up to Summer High, here’s what hits you first:

It’s the energy.

Not forced. Not corporate. Not “please clap for our brand activation.”

Just people.

Then everything else stacks on top:

75+ artists across two stages
Hip-Hop, Funk, Reggae, EDM, Bass and live bands
EDM until 4AM
Live painters and artists
Laser shows and immersive visuals
Food vendors
Vendor village
Camping beneath the pines
Educational cannabis programming
21+ giveaways all weekend

And somewhere in the middle of all that… you’ll probably realize you just met five strangers who now feel like old friends.

That’s the point.

THE VENDORS AREN’T AN AFTERTHOUGHT

One thing that separates Summer High from the “pop-up and pray” events is the lineup of real community businesses involved.

Cannabis vendors include:

Ganja Pigs
Frost Kingz
Kine Buds
Highly Baked
Fatboyy Cannabis
Bucket Of Budz
Prada Pax
Squids
Mini Mart
Central Oddities
Best Budz
Woodz Treez

Food vendors include Uncle Mitch Munchies, High Hillz Hotdogs, Mrs. Sweets Bake Shoppe, Cosmic Creations, Food For The Homies and The Grovelink.

Artists and creators include Mushroom Girl, Do Not Feed The Art, Ashley In Wonderland, BDA, Crown City Curiosities, Rei Of Light, The LotShop and many more.

Even better, the lineup is still growing.

A LITTLE INSIDER TIP FROM OG STRAIN…

Since you’re already reading The Plug’s Pages, here’s something special.

Woodz Treez told me they’ll be representing at Summer High Fest all weekend.

If you stop by their booth, make a purchase, and mention that you read this article or simply tell them, “OG Strain sent me,” don’t be surprised if they show you a little extra love.

And while you’re there, don’t just walk away with your purchase.

Woodz Treez is planning to have a bong set up at their booth for adults in the designated 21+ area, so stop by, take a hit with the crew, and let them know OG Strain sent you. It’s a great excuse to meet the team, hang out for a minute, and become part of the Summer High experience.

I’m not going to spoil exactly what that “extra love” might be—that’s between you and them.

Maybe it’s something extra.

Maybe it’s a surprise.

Maybe it’s just some VIP treatment.

The only way to find out… is to walk over, take a rip, and say those magic words.

Then come find me later and tell me what happened.

WHY YOU SHOULD SHOW UP (AND NOT JUST “THINK ABOUT IT”)

Woodz said it perfectly.

This isn’t about spending another weekend staring at a screen.

It’s about disconnecting from everyday life and reconnecting with people.

Camping.

Music.

Art.

Cannabis education.

Great food.

Late-night sets.

Meaningful conversations.

Whether you arrive with twenty friends or by yourself, you’re walking into a community that wants you there.

WHAT MAKES THIS DIFFERENT?

Most cannabis events focus on one lane.

Summer High combines them all.

A cannabis convention.

A growers championship.

A music festival.

An art festival.

A camping experience.

A community gathering.

Instead of choosing one culture, Summer High brings them together into one unforgettable weekend.

That’s what makes it different.

LINEUP HIGHLIGHTS

Just so nobody accidentally skips this part…

🎶 75+ Artists including THE BASEMENT CHRONICLES

🎺 Sophistafunk

🎤 Mula Monopoly

🎸 Sacred Medicine

🔥 Broken Harmony Syndicate

🔊 EDM Until 4AM

🎨 Live Art

✨ Lasers & Visuals

🍔 Amazing Food Vendors

🛍️ Vendor Village

And according to Woodz Treez…

They’re not done announcing surprises yet.

TICKETS

Use Promo Code:

SUMMER50

Offer ends July 4 at 11:59 PM.

Tickets are available online through the Summer High Festival ticket page.

FOLLOW THE FESTIVAL

For updates, announcements, camping information, vendors and everything else, visit the official Summer High website and keep an eye on Woodz Treez’s social media pages as they continue posting updates leading up to the event.

FINAL WORD

There was one sentence from the interview that really stuck with me:

“Summer High isn’t just a festival—it’s a community.”

People throw that word around a lot.

Community.

But after reading everything they’re building, it doesn’t sound like marketing.

It sounds genuine.

Music.

Cannabis.

Art.

Camping.

Education.

Families.

Growers.

Creators.

Everyone sharing one unforgettable weekend beneath the pines.

If Summer High delivers on everything they’re promising, this won’t just be another event on the calendar.

It’ll be the one people spend the next year talking about.

And if you decide to stay home…

Don’t blame me when your friends won’t stop telling stories about everything you missed.

https://Summerhighny.com

There’s a certain kind of Friday night that doesn’t just hit different—it redefines what “different” even means.

I wasn’t planning on making any kind of major move. Just a quick stop. In and out. Grab a little rosin from Buddah Brothers and head back home like a responsible adult… or at least whatever version of that I occasionally pretend to be.

Crisxotics was about 20 minutes from my house, but let’s be real—time works differently when you’re headed somewhere you know good energy lives. By the time I pulled up, I already knew I wasn’t just “running an errand.” I was stepping into a room where everybody knows your face, your vibe, and probably your last questionable edible decision.

Handshakes flying. “What’s up OG?” shouted like I’m some kind of local myth instead of a man with a dream. It’s not a store—it’s a reunion.

First thing I noticed? JMO from The Gas Station wasn’t at his usual post. That hit me harder than expected. He told me last time he had something for me, and now I’m walking around like a kid checking every table like, “Did I miss my present or my purpose?” Still, the night had other plans.

I made my way to Buddah Brothers—Bernie and Amy—my destination, my mission, my reason for leaving the house in the first place. I hit them with the obvious question:

“What’s up with the rosin?”

They looked at me like a man about to receive news he wasn’t emotionally prepared for.

Sold out.

Just like that. Gone.

Now I’m standing there doing mental math like: I drove here. I parked. I committed. And the universe just said, “Yeah… no rosin for you.”

I almost mourned it on the spot.

But Bernie? Bernie didn’t let the sadness sit too long. Before I could even fully spiral into disappointment, he was already moving like a man who refuses to let someone leave empty-handed. He starts digging into his own head stash like it’s not even a question.

“Don’t worry, man.”

And just like that… I was blessed.

A little over a half gram of cold cure—no charge, no hesitation, no corporate energy. Just pure community care. The kind of move you don’t forget, even when your memory is slightly compromised by the next edible.

Then he hits me with:
“Come meet somebody.”

That’s how I met Choice from Herb and Soul.

But before we even make it ten steps, we get intercepted like I’m in some kind of edible Avengers crossover episode.

Enter: Key Key.

If you know, you know.

She stops me like she’s been waiting all week for this exact moment.

“OG, I made you a gift bag.”

Now I’ve been in this game long enough to know surprises usually come with fine print. But not this time.

This was not a bag.

This was a portable festival of generosity.

Doritos. Milky Way bars. gummies, Sweet Tarts, brownies, drinks, candies, High C style juices, Fritos, infused everything—but somehow still feeling like a hug instead of a product display. And then she pulls out these peach cobbler cinnamon pie creations that should be illegal purely based on how fast they disappear.

She asked me what flavor I like. Peach? Apple? Like I had a real choice in the presence of greatness.

I said peach.

I chose correctly.

Because that pie didn’t taste like dessert—it tasted like somebody’s grandmother decided to get into culinary wizardry and bless the streets.

At that point, I’m holding more free kindness than I’ve ever seen in one place in my life.

And I still haven’t spent a dollar.

Bernie’s cold cure in one hand energy. Key Key’s infused universe in the other. And I’m thinking, this is either the best night ever or I’m already too high to understand reality.

Then comes Choice.

Herb and Soul.

And let me tell you something—this man doesn’t just cook food. He negotiates peace treaties between hunger and happiness.

Rasta pasta chicken dinner. Infused. Homemade. Soulful enough to make you reconsider every microwave meal you’ve ever trusted.

He tells me it normally goes for $11.

Then hands me one anyway.

Just… because.

At this point I’m not even sure if I’m in a vendor market or a generosity glitch in the matrix.

Now here’s the part that sticks with me the most.

I’ve got one good hand and one bad hand, and I’m trying to carry what feels like a Thanksgiving dinner, a dispensary blessing, and a dessert festival all at once back to the car without dropping anything like a rookie.

And I realize something in that moment:

I didn’t spend a single dollar.

Not one.

But I left with more than I could carry.

More than just products. More than just edibles and rosin and food.

I left with proof that community still exists in places people don’t always expect it.

Now let me be clear—I support these vendors. Always have. Always will. I’ve spent real money at Crisxotics more times than I can count. But this night? This night wasn’t about transactions.

It was about people showing love to somebody they’ve come to know as more than just a customer.

It was about Bernie and Amy making sure I didn’t leave empty-handed.
It was about Key Key showing generosity like it’s second nature.
It was about Choice feeding people like he’s been doing it his whole life for the right reasons.

And me?

I went home, ate everything (because let’s be honest—“saving edibles for later” is a myth I tell myself when I want to feel responsible), and slept so good I didn’t wake up until 4 PM the next day.

Which, for the record, is not medical advice. It’s just what happened.

So this is a thank you.

To Crisxotics—for being the hub where this kind of energy even exists.
To Buddah Brothers—Bernie and Amy—for the kindness that doesn’t come with a price tag.
To Key Key—for feeding people like love is the main ingredient.
And to Choice of Herb and Soul—for proving that a plate of food can carry as much soul as any conversation.

This isn’t just a plug scene.

It’s a family scene.

And if you’ve never been to Crisxotics on a Friday… you might think you understand what community looks like.

But trust me.

You don’t.

Not until you’ve left with both hands full, your heart fuller, and your wallet still exactly where it started.

• OG Strain

Why Millions of Users Feel Facebook Has Lost Its Neutral Ground — and Why I’m Calling for a One-Day Shutdown on August 15

Facebook was once the digital town square.

A place where voices could be heard, communities could grow, and information could spread instantly across the world. It was built on the idea of connection.

But today, many users—including myself—feel that something fundamental has changed.

And whether people agree on the reasons or not, the feeling is becoming more common: Facebook no longer feels neutral.

As a cannabis advocate, journalist, and contributor to The Plug’s Pages Magazine, I’ve experienced repeated content restrictions tied to cannabis-related posts—even when those posts contain no sales, no offers, and no transactions of any kind.

No “buy now.”

No “DM for purchase.”

No exchange of goods or services.

Just journalism. Just reporting. Just culture.

Yet posts can still be flagged or restricted simply because they contain cannabis-related language or references.

And I want to be clear about what that means from my perspective:

It creates the feeling that even discussing a legal or emerging industry can put your voice at risk.

Many users across different communities share similar concerns—not just in cannabis, but in politics, health discussions, and controversial topics in general. Whether through automated systems, keyword triggers, or moderation policies, people often report experiencing sudden restrictions, removals, or account limitations that feel unclear and difficult to appeal.

And one of the most frustrating parts, according to many users, is what happens next.

In some cases, restrictions are lifted later without explanation. Content is restored. Accounts are reactivated. But the question remains:

Why was it removed in the first place?

This lack of transparency leaves creators, journalists, and everyday users trying to guess where the invisible lines are drawn.

For some, it feels like walking through a system where the rules are not always visible until they are suddenly enforced.

For others, it raises a deeper concern: who decides what information is allowed to circulate in the first place?

I’m not saying Facebook is the only platform with moderation policies. Every major platform has them. But what I am saying—based on my experience and what many users express—is that the scale of influence Facebook holds makes these decisions feel especially impactful.

Because when a platform that large restricts content, it doesn’t just affect one post.

It affects reach.

It affects income.

It affects conversations.

It affects visibility.

And it affects whether certain topics are even seen at all.

That’s why this is not just about frustration. It’s about choice.

On August 15, I am calling for a peaceful, voluntary 24-hour break from Facebook.

Not a deletion.

Not a permanent exit.

Just one day.

A pause.

A moment for users to step back and explore other platforms like X, independent media, direct communities, and alternative spaces where conversation continues without interruption.

The goal is simple: awareness.

To show what happens when users choose where their attention goes.

To remind people that no single platform is the only option.

And to demonstrate that collective action—no matter how small it seems individually—can create a message when done together.

If you rely on Facebook for communication, you can return the next day.

If you use it for business, your work continues.

If you use it for community, your community will still be there.

But for one day, we step outside the system and observe it from the outside.

Because sometimes, the most powerful statement users can make is simply this:

We can log off.

Whether you agree with every concern raised here or not, the larger question remains worth asking:

How much control should any single platform have over global conversation?

And what happens when users decide to explore what else exists beyond it?

On August 15, we find out.

— OG Strain
The Plug’s Pages Magazine