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Oh! Cannatown will miss ol’ Mr. Farnsworth! He died like he lived, in CannaTown. He spent his whole life here, made a name for himself, had a family, a business. The only thing left to remember now, is the uproarious manner of his passing.

Black and white photo of Farnsworth

Not once when Farnsworth met the president did he stop to think he’d be remembered some day as one of the only people ever to die in the same room as half-inflated hot air balloon and over 50 gallons of fresh custard. Not once as a 1st division quarterback, or during his many years in Congress, did the thought of 2,000 screeching, rabid gophers ever strike fear into his heart, not once did he view the massive locks of a canal transportation port with the gaze of a man who might see them as a last sight on this earth.

What a hero! In his first platinum album we saw some of the wisdom and charity that made him a household name, though it was his second album that seemed to predict the harrowing excavator injuries and brutal interactions with narwhals he would sustain before the end. Like an encyclopedia to the future, his poetry and journals also foretold of the clown attack, the mysterious swimming bunny sightings, the allergy to milk, and even the infamous confrontation with Alexzonder, a vengeful ambassador from Greece who spent much of his life trying destroy Farnsworth.

When we gaze at the ten-foot monument set to be raised in the town square, we must remember him for the good contributions to society, and not for all that stuff he supposedly did with the nacho cheese. RIP, you will be missed, Farnsworth.

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A team of Cannatown scientists is “totally stoked” about super-strong strains of cannabis they speculate could prevent or even treat Covid. In a recent study of ACE2 pathways, a “ton of dank nugs” showed some promise in doing something about the coronavirus, which would reflect, like, a major, unexpected medical advance, according to the Institute of Fancy Questions, formerly, the Institute of Higher Minds (formerly the Drum Circle of Whimsy-Butter Hill).

“At first it was like, ‘Woooah,’ and then it was like, ‘Whaaaat?’” said researcher Ida Smakit. “We’re all just like, so happy, so thankful.”

A test subject protects himself from covid by cheefing his brains out

The results, though mostly-based on ripped banter and napkin sketches, indicate that strains high in diggity-dankness could like, block COVID-19 from doing stuff to host cells. The lead and egregiously-ripped researcher, Pinecone Harry, wrote that even a handful of blunts might even prevent Covid by, like 99 percent. “You gotta smake a ton for it to work,” he concluded in the report. “And then eat a whole platter of a ganj cookies, at minimum.”

“Our work here is pivotal” added Harry. “Anyone can just say ‘cannabis cures Covid.’ But we’re proving it.”

The study briefly mentions a need for more research--but if proven to fudge with the enzyme, the world could see a market rush not unlike those that led to toilet paper and Hydrocholoquine shortages. Preventative THC-packed products such as mouthwash and throat gargle had been proposed, but were quickly rejected after preliminary test subjects all insisted on swallowing the samples.

“Despite the various applications, the most important takeaway, is that not just any cannabis will do the trick,” reminded Smakit via telephone interview. “We’re talking rocket-out-of-the-universe nuggersh. We’re talking, white rabbit behind the looking glass grass, flower that’s so fire you float and wobble and puke rainbows all at the same time. To prevent Covid you literally have to go find the most potent stuff you’ve ever seen, and smake it or eat it all. All at once.” 

How will you know if it works? “All you can do is get blazed. Totally blazed to shreds. And then, if you don’t get sick, maybe it worked,” Smakit said. “At least, that’s the accepted conventional-approach to science these days.”

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A dark cloud hung over Cannatown School for Puppeteering this week, as the doors shuttered by authorities, have kept both pupils and the larger public at bay since last week’s annual Winter Showcase turned violent. Investigators are still trying to get to the bottom of a feud between two warring factions of puppets that came to a dramatic climax at the otherwise typically-serene performance.

puppet performance

Reports from some pupils say tensions have been growing among the factions for weeks--even within the factions themselves. Others say the school fostered an atmosphere of survival and dominance, pitting puppets against each other. A string of roller-pin assaults, kidnappings and other strange events had led some school officials to consider canceling the Showcase altogether.

There are two major gangs of puppets within the school, notably the Woodland Creatures, led by an old wolf-like puppet named Meatclaw, and a group of farmers and laborers organized by “Granny,” reformed witch, and aged matriarch of the village, who had campaigned for their allegiance in scouring the Woodland realm. 

Their homes burned and some members torn graphically apart, Woodland survivors, led by Meatclaw, vowed to destroy the village once and for all. Despite the well-orchestrated and rehearsed showcase of puppetry, Friday’s performance quickly veered off-script in the second act as a backstage fist-fight poured out from behind the curtain. 

Puppets began clobbering each other and cursing, all of them gripped by madness, despite protests of teachers and audience members screaming in terror.

In dramatic fashion, the two gang leaders met in a penultimate duel at the height of the uprising between the groups, sparring in front of the crowd, with mics blazing such that their soliloquies echoed throughout the performance hall. All eyes were glued on the two, as they grotesquely fought to the death -- Meatclaw, attempting to devour the Granny, who did her best to beat him senseless with baking utensils. 

In the end, both adversaries had perished before officials arrived. Granny had been nearly devoured whole, leaving only remnants of ragged wool garments. The wolf, likewise eventually died from internal bleeding, sobbing quietly to himself in his final moments, in what was described as “some of the most haunting melodrama in the history of puppetry.” Even more chilling, was that  the two foes were related, each donning an opposite hand of the same puppeteer. 

Officials are unsure if the school will reopen.

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National dudeflation remains higher than anyone ever anticipated going into the holiday season. Cool dudeflation rose .420% in November, adjusted for seasonal swings but far worse than previous months, the Bureau of Boring Statistics reported Thursday. 

Rising prices on hats and VR’s contributed to at least half of the increase, while prices for mancave furnishings and subscription shaving kits also climbed. And an index that tracks new nuggersh prices roses 4.20% over the quarter, making the biggest jump since the middle ages. The increase in hoverboard costs, and earbuds, is also worrying, says economist Carol Lott. “People paid extra for inflatable hot tubs last year,” she wrote in a note. “To help, the government gradually phases in nuggersh increases over time. But it’s about to become a huge freakin’ source of dudeflation right here on Main Street.”

Dudeflation Threatens Cannatown Broconomy

Stripping out live rosin and micro-fiber underwear costs--both which tend to be more volatile--prices rose 4.20% over the same period, the same rate as in September. But not everything in Cannatown got more expensive. Trolley tickets, for example, keep getting cheaper. The price index for fares dropped 75% over the last year. That’s not great for Trolleys, and it’s happening even though demand for bell-incessant, slow-moving, open-air travel is recovering from the worst of the pandemic, and largely, a century of irrelevance. So it goes.

"How did we get started on Trolleys?" asked Lott. "Oh yes, we were talking about our grandfathers. Sorry for the tangent."   

With the explosion of dudes and dude-related stuff, perhaps due to generational shift, today's broconomy is in a greater peril than it's ever been, and many wonder how long it will sustain under the pressure. 

"Soon we'll reach a tipping point as far as dudes go," said Lott. "We might fix labor shortages and growing expenses for materials -- but when it comes down to it, the broconomy depends on dudes bein' dudes."

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Cannascopes November 2021

Posted by CANNASaver on Wednesday, 01 December 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

Discover Your Fortune!

Aries - The first date would've gone well, if your allergy to bird-watching hadn't kicked in. 

Taurus - It’s cold outside, but then, it’s cold inside too. Because you spent the utility bill money on a satchel and it was totally worth it.

Discover Your Fortune!

Gemini - Your landlord wasn't happy when you brought a cow in the house, so you probably shouldn't tell him it's stuck in the attic.  

Cancer - It was a night to remember at the opera. Nobody could figure out how you got on stage, much less, into that tiny leotard.

Leo - Eyes off your phone and pay more attention to life! Specifically, it's your turn to puff puff pass, and you're holding up the circle.

Virgo - The gravity in here is terrible, you'll think, before tumbling head-first into the trampoline with half-roasted blunt in hand. 

Libra - The leaf-blower bong was a nice weekend novelty, but you shouldn't have brought it along to ski.  

Scorpio - Nobody’s cried so much when they hurled before, but then, nobody’s eaten a party-sized Oreos that fast before. 

Sagittarius - The lady watching you at the gym isn't admiring your squats. She's considering calling you an ambulance. 

Capricorn - You’re not sure what "gimmicky charisma" your grandmother is talking about, but she sure holds it against you. 

Aquarius - As the zombie lunges to sink its jaws into your shoulder, you’ll realize it’s only an trenchcoat hanging on a mopstick. 

Pisces - As you snap out of your daze, you'll understand that this one joint is the only thing keeping you from yelling at everyone like Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop.

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Bronze Radio Return - Chillers

Posted by CANNASaver on Friday, 19 November 2021 in Album Notes

Two and a half years after the rocking Entertain You, Bronze Radio Return, uhh, return with an album befittingly named for the songwriting whims indulged. If its predecessor was designed to be featured in commercials, the acoustic-based Chillers is full of tracks longing to occupy those sappy scenes of reconciliation between two leads when everything aligns for the titular character. The vibe is not an accident. It's a collection of previously released, uhh, chillers, from the Connecticut-based band, along with a handful of demos, which in at least one case is better than the official version. Whether or not the tunes were tailored for film or TV, they nestle in nicely with the arrival of cooler temperatures.

Bronze Radio Return Chillers


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It's only three weeks into the holiday season, and already local foundation Angel Cheefers has their hands full.

Already, 420 cadets have found circles across Cannatown to roast with this season, many of whom will share in a munchies feast thereafter as well. Sometimes the program can even match recipients by their strain or ingestion preferences. For instance, Mya Bryant of Shwagsburg is used to mid-grade beasties. She prefers good bud but can't dab or use a steamroller without explosively vomiting. It's embarrassing to even ask for donated puffs from circles she passes without walking away ashamed. This year she was comfortably paired with an elderly couple that likes to roll joints. "Its perfect," she says, relieved, "I even brought my own roach clip." Without the Angels, she says, there'd only be buzzkill in her stocking.

Cadets, newly connected with other cadets, circle around the Christember tree to cheef

"I just didnt know how I was going to get blazed this year," says Fred Winston, another applicant who is down on his luck, and, worse, has no nearby friends or family holding, much less, ready to share. "Thankfully the Angel Cheefers have me covered." Sometimes, the offer to cheef can blossom into a beautiful relationship. "We're still waiting for Mitch to move off of our couch from last year," says one charitable giver, Charles Finney. He and his fiancée Matilda have been volunteer circle hosts each year now, and say that, despite the occasional unwanted roomates, they will never stop participating in Angel Cheefers because kind souls once helped them.

"I'll never forget," recalls Finney, "I was visiting family in Squaresville years ago, so desperate for a chance to smake that I went for a walk in the cold to search for ditchweed. A car I walked by rolled down its windows and smoke billowed out, and two very cheefed-out fellas asked if I needed to hotbox quick. I said yes please and thanked them for the yuletide miracle. And I remember thinking, some day I want to be a cheef angel for another poor bastard, just like those guys."

"Part of me believes they really were angels," he adds.

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BREAKING - A giant 34-foot statue has been erected in the community of Fezziwig, Authorities report, but no one knows how it got there. The monstrosity, sculpted from what appears to be Cheez Whiz, is in the shape of an anatomically-obtuse giant boar. The monument was not announced to or by city officials, who say that the mere size of the pedestal alone suggests a construction crew worked through the night. Yet nobody knows who paid for a crew of such magnitude, or who coordinated what appears to have required nearly 200 volunteers to lay the final layers of Whiz straight from cans, assuming they were, at minimum, shaping the detailed contours of the hog’s bristled hair with plastic knives and sharp sticks.

A huge wild boar statue made of Cheez Whiz is suddenly erected in town.

“When we woke up this morning, there was the statue, greeting the citizens for the morning commute,” said city manager Brenda Hawthorne. “But when it comes right down to it, nobody really filed any paperwork to build a statue there, much less 30 feet tall and made of a foul, synthetic cheesy goo.” Yet, it wasn’t so much the strange effigy near the townsquare, as the celebration that followed, that was, in all other ways, completely unexplainable.

Almost immediately at dawn, a crowd gathered around the statue. In addition to novelty photographers, other vendor booths quickly sprung up to hock tshirts and other boar and Cheez Whiz keepsakes, to accommodate the almost immediate stream of sudden tourists descending upon the scene. By 9 a.m., an extensive tent city sprawled for blocks and press vans came pouring in from other suburbs.  

Authorities say they were further perplexed by the somewhat spontaneous parade that ensued at 9:30, complete with at least three marching bands, a few floats, official Grand Master and fire truck. “We’re not sure where the bands came from and it wasn’t even one of our city fire trucks” said Hawthorne, adding, “the whole thing took us entirely off-guard.”

Residents reacted with surprise, some pleasantly, some, not so much. While dozens spontaneously showed up dressed in full boar costumes and cheered, at least one subset of the crowd--portly men with boxes of crackers--were not happy. "It’s spoiled Whiz, we can't even eat it," one lamented.

Although no group has claimed responsibility for the monstrosity, Hawthorne believes investigators will be hot on the trail soon. “We’re assuming it’s some kind of local frat, even maybe a cult that worships Cheez Whiz,” she said. “Or at the very least, someone with steady access to dump trucks of the stuff. Seems like that might be an important clue.”

According to local historian John Kaiser, an organized group is likely not to blame, other than a random few, energetic and blazed cityfolk. "It’s probably just a couple of people who got ripped on a Saturday and stormed the town center to erect a huge statue from ten metric tons of sprayable-cheddar. It's happened before, long before our time, but this is history repeating itself.”

“The question is, what to do with that much lukewarm cheese gravy,” he added, “before the next sunny day covers the whole hill in nacho sludge?”

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Oh my gawd, did I just hear Denise right? Did I understand her correctly, that all the food over on that entire taco bar is “medicated”? Like, with heavy THC? Oh my gawd you guys, are you telling me, I just ate a half-plate of a nacho mountain, two crispy rellenos and a chimichanga, and my entire weight in sopapillas, and it was all hopped up on delta-nine? Holy jalopies, gals! Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would’ve liked to know that the freakin’ buffet was infused!

Moira Bitterman Just Realized This is an Infused Buffet

Did nobody hear my little story about having to eat dinner at Carl’s parents’ house? They served lukewarm cod! And in the morning the leftovers that lugnut brought home stunk up the whole fridge, I couldn’t even be in the kitchen! And then I had to skip lunch, running to the bank between the massage and jazzercise. Didn’t anyone see me ravenously eating over here like my life depended on it? I was making up for 24 hours worth of meals in one! Nobody?

Gawd, girls. I just wish someone would’ve told me, “Hey, by the way, this food is all packed with a ton of cannabis!”

Can’t you agree, Gina, that you’d probably be pretty pissed if you were about to lose your mind? I don’t have time to trip right now, do you? Oh, you only ate half a churro? Good for you, that’s great Jennifer, I ate four servings. Aw, Jeez. I don’t even know where I put my car keys and jacket. But I should probably get them from the coat room and put it all together and then find a safe place to sit. Or maybe I should try to make it home first, before all this kicks in. That’s not a bad idea. How long ago did I order those sopapillas? Where'd my watch go?

Did you just play the trumpet? Geez, Linda, who does your nails? You’re talking loud, what did you say? Oh no, it’s kicking in? Oh, cupcakes, girls, it’s kickin’ in. It’s kickin’ in. It’s too late to go home, ladies. Gina, thanks for this makeshift helmet. And Linda, for grabbing my purse--I’ve got it safe and I’m sitting on it. Ooh, tiddles, I may need to go lay down in the broom closet. Oh Tiddles ME. Tiddles me sideways. 

Did you have the el pastor? I know it’s pork, but is it, like, serene? Gina! Gina! Gina! Did you have the El Pastor?  It seems like there was something bothering me a few minutes ago. Hmm. Do you think they’re bringing out any fried ice cream? Hello, Margaret? Anyone? Where are we? What are we doing right now? Oh my gosh, gals, look at the spread! They have sopapillas!

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Obscure October: Comus' "First Utterance"

Posted by CANNASaver on Friday, 29 October 2021 in Album Notes

As October comes to a close, so too does our themed month aimed at providing exposure to some lesser-known albums. Next week we'll return to our regularly scheduled programming. Whether that's to your delight or dismay, thanks for tuning in.

Comus - First Utterance, 1971

Obscure October Week 4
Date: February 19, 1971
Location: London, England 
The Skinny: The intersection of Jethro Tull, Mahavishnu John McLaughlin, and Pink Floyd

The 1971 debut from Comus quickly manifests mental images of words like "occult" and "pagan." While there is little difficulty in ascribing the sounds to the artists listed above, it is very much worth keeping in mind that First Utterance preceded a certain magnum opus, and, to those acutely aware of familiar chord formations and potential similarities on instantly recognizable Floyd albums, came out more than a year before recording sessions began for that lunar-themed masterpiece. Bonus points here, as always, for bands that have songs named after or directly reference the group that wrote it. If the comparisons to Comus' contemporaries don't completely fit your bill, more "modern" siblings would be peak Rusted Root and Sweden's Goat.

The album title speaks for itself in so much as it's likely the initial exposure for many to this relatively short-lived outfit, one who released a follow-up three years later, then disappeared until well after the dawn of our current century. First Utterance, final farewell to Obscure October.

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As a backlog of cargo ships in Cannafornia’s southern port reached a historic high this week, the supply chain crisis overwhelming the country’s busiest port complex turns out to be the fault of Jim, assistant manager and last man with the keys to the container yard. Jim is, and has been, scouring his home and tracing his steps for any sign of the facility keychain that he reportedly lost roughly a month ago, on the walk home from work while smaking a caviar blunt. It was the only key to the port.

Onlookers share a doobie as they watch a boat go nowhere outside the port.

On Thursday more than 420 cargo ships were still waiting to unload shit-tons of containers outside the port in Los Ganjales. The backlog continues to sit idle in the water, expecting to create a holiday bottleneck that will likely prevent all sorts of goods from hash to toothpaste, from entering the country even until next summer. The entire infrastructure and failure, are on Jim.

“We even had a copy of the key, which he lost at the laundromat just a couple days prior to the incident,” said freight manager Rhoda Miles. “I told them he would lose it again.”

“He’s lost every key he’s ever held,” she added.

State and national leaders have pledged to expand the search for the keys, mounting chains of arm-locked volunteers, scouring the sidewalks and byways between the port’s employee lounge, and Jim’s house fifteen blocks away. Locksmiths have been called in, however, most of those specializing in non-electrical retrofit systems are unable to leave their nursing homes for extended periods of time. Jim has also ransacked his house 15 times to no avail.

“These issues affect everyone all the way from the person on the boat to the buyer at the end. This affects anyone who wants to smake their explosive Phnom Penh, or get new hand-crafted mountain vapes, or use basic stuff like food and undies and designer presswood furniture,” said Pete Budder, transportation secretary. “Fudge Jim. I’m just saying what’s on everyone’s minds. I’m sure he’s a nice person, but you know, fudge him.”

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Obscure October Week 3
Date: June 4, 2001
Location: Japan
The Skinny: Ambient, piano-driven chill Japanese DJ does it his way

I have no interest in being verbose to describe a largely instrumental album. As someone who never felt at home in the electronic scene, I am the first to admit that the late Susumu Yokota may not qualify as obscure for serious fans of the genre throughout the 90s and 00s. "Ambient" is the label laid upon Grinning Cat, the prolific Japanese DJ's umpteenth release, but calling it such seems unfairly reductive to artist and craft. Yes, Yokota's wares frequently supply a calming effect that leave the listener in a state of contemplative bliss, but for years I've been struck by this record for reasons I can't explain. Something just keeps calling me back. 

Obscure October - Susumu Yokota's "Grinning Cat" reviewed by EricksonListening to Grinning Cat, it's easier to picture a painter taking stabs at a fresh canvas than it is to see a DJ splicing together that which results in these 13 tracks. An inventive, playful nature lies at the heart of the album from start to finish. One can easily imagine Yokota smiling like a Cheshire as he put the final touches on this set.

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What’s up dudemankind? I’ve been pretty much losing all my extra money on crypto these days, so I asked my bud, who’s making bank, like, how does he know when it’s best to buy? And you know what he told me? That he goes to a pyromancer! Now that I think about it, he was probably joking, but get this: It’s real. It turns out, you can just, like, tell the future by lighting shit on fire. Not only that, but it’s my new job! That's right, today is my first day as a pyromancer. Wish me luck!

Columnist Hugh Jollydab announces it is his first day as a pyromancer

Can you believe it? I didn’t even know pyromancer was a job. Online I found this forum that was like, people saying they’d totally go to a pyromancer, but there weren’t any in the area, and I was thinking, are you kidding? There’s serious money to be made here! Just one problem, like, what’s a pyromancer? So I did a bunch of research, read a bunch of websites and got certified. And then I scraped together all the change I could find in my apartment to get a double-line, 1-week classified ad in the local newspaper. Success, here I come!

What? Not familiar? If you’re new to divination I totally get ya. Yea, pyromancy. Turns out, it’s a thing, and not only that but like, so are auras and crystals and all that. Have you heard of that kind of stuff? ‘Cause it’s a lot to repeat, and I was only like, half-listening to the girl at the head shop. Lotta information! But then, like, another dude I cheefed with down by the river said, he’d totally go to a pyromancer over a fortune teller any day of the week. Especially because he could easily, like, light a blunt while he watches the pyromancer.

But not just any chode can become a mage, otherwise we’d all be trippin’ on Fourth of July! You gotta be certified to be a true pyromancer, at least that’s what the brochure said. I went to a little specialized school in an old auto-shop (don’t worry, people were extremely covid-aware, like the whole staff wore ski-masks). I burned myself a ton, like, can you see how my left eyebrow is just growing back in? But man it was worth it.

My certificate is coming in the mail, but I got the temporary diploma, retro-printed on an original dot-matrix printer. I was going to frame it, but I schlepped it up on the wall with some duct tape at least. Now it’s time to get some wood and charcoal or sticks and put them in the old grill kettle I got propped up on bricks in the backyard. I figure, get some lighter fluid, let the hot embers roast, and then spray it with some Pam when I do the conjuring and such. 

I think I’m ready for customers! Definitely ready for some visions too (I just puffed through a half-gram of some gnar ros). Last night my buddy came by and we built a bonfire to practice but we ended up burning one of his eyebrows off too. And I think I saw a vision of him getting some groceries, which ended up happening later on! So it’s not some sort of, you know, sham. I’m not a con artist.

Anyway, I better go check my voicemail. This is exciting! Who would’ve thought. After a half year on the job search, I finally found my calling. This is the dream, sittin’ around, playing video games, waiting for customers to come by, so I can light my garbage on fire and tell them the funky stuff I see while I smake. It’s perfect, duders. Let’s just say the holidays came early for ol’ Hugh.

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New week, even older obscure oddity, and one that is likely my favorite of the four that will be featured this month.

Obscure October Week 2: Familijesprickor
Date: 1980
Location: Uppsala, Sweden
The Skinny: There's nothing lean about the virtuosic prog rock excursions from this Swedish outfit that land somewhere between Zappa, Mr. Bungle, and Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. 

Album Notes - Obscure October: Zamla Mammaz Manna's "Familijesprickor"

I don't even know where to begin with Zamla Mammaz Manna other than to say that if you like the aforementioned artists, or pretty much any jamband from the 90s or 00s, or are curious about 70s Scandinavian prog rock, do yourself a favor and check out Familijesprickor. It is something that truly has to be heard to be understood. And even then the latter may prove difficult.

While changing their name from Samla Mammas Manna to Zamla Mammaz Manna and back again doesn't quite put them in John Dwyer of Orinoka Crash Sweet / OCS / Orange County Sound / The Ohsees / Thee Oh Sees / Oh Sees / Osees territory as far as trying to make cataloguing one band's releases as challenging as possible, the act of doing so, combined with the musical stylings, no doubt did little to help their broad appeal. 

Released in 1980, the Zam's seventh album comes across today as simultaneously dated yet fresh. Many of the keyboard sounds really are something else, for better or worse, while the songwriting is right at home with what a number of bands of a certain ilk have tried to accomplish over the past few decades. One could hear snippets, taken in conjunction with the song titles and band name, and assume these guys are from the school of those inspired by Phish. The difference between this and any number of jambands who attempt such aural adventures is that these Swedes are not only technically proficient on their respective instruments, but pen quality compositions to boot. Not to mention they rarely bother with trying to sing. Familijesprickor may translate as "Family Cracks" but there are no fault lines here. Only quality tunes and even better chops. 

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With the downturn of the economy looming on Cannatown, one of its oldest and biggest employers, Two-Star Manufacturing, has announced they will begin testing for Delta-9 THC in employment screening as it seeks to expand operations at a time when applicants are in short supply. But the company says it’s the only surefire way to know if a staff member will be able to handle the full spectrum of terpy, dank nuggersh.
An applicant uses a modern breathalyzer to measure THC tolerance and use.

“Only science can confirm that an employee actually does consume THC, such that we can place them appropriately by level of tolerance,” said spokesperson Eluva Sweetskunk, who reiterated that measures go into effect next month, pending a rigorous adjunct review by the janitorial staff.

Although considered controversial, Two-Star policy has long-maintained that levels of THC-use, measured via screening, are meant to ensure employees are matched with the salary--paid in cannabis and cannabis-derived goods--at an adequate market-potency value. In the early 2000’s, such matching fell by the wayside--but now Two-Star is committing to a zero-tolerance policy. Essentially, any applicants, or employees, with zero tolerance, will be fired immediately.

“There’s no way in hell we’re paying someone around here in shwag or brick,” Sweetskunk said. “It’s just company policy. Specifically, section 4.2.0.”

For years, the industry’s trend of low-grade “ditchweed-positions” led to “terrible craftsmanship” and, as far as Two-Star workplace accidents go, an era of “near-daily amputations and traumatizing spectacles.”

Those grimy dime-sacks are a thing of the past now.

However, some prospective employees, wary of the new policy, are reportedly spooked. “I’ve only been smokin’ middies and a couple tops to hold me lately,” one offered anonymously. “But I don’t want them thinkin’ I’m just middie-level-material.”

Another, applying for an executive level position, was suddenly worried about his prospects. “I’m really looking for a high-potency sativa long-term--That’s why I’m honestly wondering about having a buddy do the test for me,” he admitted, nervously running his finger under a luxury Snucci-brand hemp necklace.

Elsewhere, cash-strapped recruiters have been forced to forego testing, instead using rudimentary forms of screening, such as “fast-tracking anyone who applies or interviews in their pajamas,” as a stop-gap solution, according to staffing manager Joan Zenferhash of Cannatown Wizzorks! job agency.

“Interviewers are becoming quite keen on details like bits of pizza in the beard, smeared lip-stick on the forehead, even the stench of week-old cheese wontons,” she said. “It’s not as exact as a drug-test--but in this hiring famine, we’re learning to rely on common sense.”

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We haven't done this since 2019's Nordic November, but it's time for another themed month: Obscure October. (Yeah, my absolute adoration of alliteration abides.)

Granted, there is some inherent difficultly in the proposition. Obscure is relative to all axes of proximity. Not to mention that for some, many records featured in Album Notes may already land in this category. That said, the idea is to dive deep and shed light on a few albums and artists that deserve far more attention than they have (at least in my mind) heretofore received. 

The Voluntary Butler Scheme's "The Grandad Galaxy"

Obscure October Week 1: The Grandad Galaxy
Date: July 14, 2011
Location: Stourbridge, England
The Skinny: Half instrumental, half catchy Beach Boys/Beatles vibes. All good. 

What's in a name? The Voluntary Butler Scheme reads like something spit out of a band name generator. The musical product is far more intentional. Rob Jones released three albums under the moniker between 2009 and 2014. All are very much worth checking out, and while a favorite is hard to pick from the trio, The Grandad Galaxy stands as the best balance of production and songwriting. The 15 tracks are at once modern but old-timey, all the while dreamy and hypnotic. Whether or not the nonsensical name contributed to the lack of stardom, Jones delivered three quality records worthy of wider recognition.

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CannaSaver Blog

Cat Stevens' Teaser and the Firecat turns 50

Posted by CANNASaver on Thursday, 30 September 2021 in Album Notes

While this album will be getting the full 50th anniversary super deluxe special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions treatment featuring a smattering of demos, alternate takes, live versions, etc., on, curiously, November 12, it was in fact October 1, 1971, when Cat Stevens gave the world Teaser and the Firecat, solidifying his genteel place in the industry, and building upon the success of the more-fondly remembered today Tea for the Tillerman, released just 10 months prior. 

Cat Stevens - Teaser and the Firecat turns 50

Depending on your familiarity with Cat Stevens, aka Yusuf Islam, aka Yusuf, aka Yusuf / Cat Stevens, you'll likely recognize multiple songs. "Peace Train" is the enduring tune, but "Morning Has Broken," "Bitterblue," and "Moonshadow" may well spark memories for listeners in melody if not in name. 

There are no frills on Teaser and the Firecat and no grand desire from the songwriter to make art for any other reason than channeling that which he knows, a necessary release valve. Pureness is the pervading quality. There is also no filler, just top-notch songwriting across this 33-minute masterpiece. And although Teaser's predecessor is widely regarded as the Englishman's peak, to me this 10-song effort represents the pinnacle of a fantastic career and comfortably resides in the upper echelon of the folk rock genre. 

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In high school shop class, Frank Donners often got high marks for accidental demonstration of subatomic principles such as gravity and polarity, through many falls and egregious misuse of large magnets. So it wasn’t completely surprising that the 34-year-old Bowlington man accidentally stumbled onto a major breakthrough in the study of light and electromagnetic waves, when, on a random whim, he figured out how to stop light beams in their tracks while sitting at his own garage workbench.Frank Donners, at far right, has made a breakthrough in the field of subatomic physics.

Even more interesting, the woodworker-cum-physicist was able to accomplish the feat with a mediocre 6-foot 2x4.

“The light is completely reduced to a shadow, we believe, due to the opacity of the wood,” he announced to peers in the science community via nonviral video last week. 

Donner says he was cheefing in his garage laboratory when he came across the strange behavior of certain light waves. “It was if they were suspended in beams, coming from my window, and in these beams I could see the actual floating light particles, especially moreso when I kicked up a bunch of sawdust into it.”

It was after a few piles of sawdust that he suddenly had an epiphany. Following his recovery from a terrible coughing spell, Donners managed to snag a nearby framing stud and affixed it to the workbench barclamp. Then, he sat back to observe the magic. Sure enough, the light, acting as a particle, could not bend, and was totally blocked by the lumber, creating a dark shadow on the ground. 

It was, appropriately, a ground-breaking moment.

“Matilda!” he yelled to his wife, over and over, until the whole family came to observe the phenomenon.

The discovery, which brought him acclaim and series of research grants, is now catalogued in his forthcoming book, “The Block of Light,” which immediately skyrocketed to the top 349,617 on Amazon.

Donners, a self-taught carpenter by trade, learned much of what he knows from studying social media outlets and his own intuition. Always drawn to the mysteries of the quantum universe, he is best known among friends for  "feats of science," such as "freezing light" by shining a flashlight into an ice-cube tray, and on one occasion, "holding a light particle" suspended in space, between two chopsticks while at the local Chinese buffet. Now, energized by his own momentum and growing recognition, Donners plans several successive experiments, such as testing whether a groundhog could see its shadow on groundhog’s day, by studying his ability to see his own shadow. 

"I think we all can agree there's gonna be a shadow," he says. "The question that haunts me, is why?"

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Scientists at the Department of Genius may have found a portal to a 5th Denny's on the east side of Cannatown. According to their recently published report in Woah Dude! Journal of Smartness, the implications for our universe are still hazy, but at the very least could offer a long needed wake-and-bake destination in that neighborhood. 

As posited by lead author Oscar Sven, the 5th Dennys is "Unseen by most cadets, unless high on a celestial scale, where the farces of gravy and electromagnetism unite." The discovery, largely enabled through research of dank matter, stands to offer cadets access to a previously untapped cache of resources like the Grand Slamwich.

A 5th Denny's has been found, intriguing scientists with mad munchies

The group's work required new modalities in order to study something so unfamiliar. For years, the science community has been getting glimpses and tempting whiffs of mouth-watering platters like Moons Over My Hammy and the Lumberjack Slam, but only for split seconds in laboratory settings. "There is very little in traditional physics to account for whipped cream and strawberry-topped chocolate chip pancakes, so we're literally making up equations as we go, like Calvinball," Sven said.

Relatively little is known about the warped eggstra dimension, and this research focuses on firm-onion masses that could be entering the 5th Dennys via the secret portal, creating dank matter, namely some mad onion rings. 

"The question now," the team wrote, "is how we get through the portal, to the onion rings."

We're still learning about the fourth Denny's, over on Puremelt Dr." said report co-author Shawna Monson. "That we have a portal to the fifth is absolutely mind-boggling, to the point of initiating a semi-universal, hangry jonesing for Belgian waffles."

However, high epiphanies about the portal are the easy bit. Now, researchers actually need to uncover it. Similarly, the Welch's Strawberry Soda Vending Machine was first proposed in 1964, but not found until its Noby Prize winning discovery in 2012. In that case it was only through development of the world's most brain-detonating Haze strain, Large Thought Collider (LTC), that researchers were able to get baked enough to make the find; even those levels are insufficient for the 5th Denny's, a portal to which would require any observer to be higher than the speed of light.

But researchers remain undaunted by the task. "I would've thought it impossible to be so high, even five years ago," said Monson. "Yet here we are now, discussing a portal to another Dennys."

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Adam Driever, career meteorologist for local WRHO News on Channel 11, is out after being blamed for the worst storm in years. “This one was awful, it was historic and traumatic, and it’s all on Adam,” explained Lieutenant Ralph Bongatron in a press conference early Tuesday morning. “He’s been telling us it was going to be low nineties all week. And just look what happened.”

Meteorologist Adam Driever Sacked After Storm Causes Damage

Driever, once considered the jolliest, stonedest meteorologist since Willard Scott, saw his lifelong reputation go up in flames after predicting late June temperatures to begin two weeks ago. Instead, historic storms and cold temperatures crippled the area. Apocalyptic scenes of survival have trickled out of devastated area, where electricity was down for hours--then days--and some are still without power. 

"Damn that Adam Driever," said Carmen Simon, resident of hard-hit Ditchweed, in the southern Highlands. "If he'd just been more right, this never would've happened."

Said a neighbor, "Can you believe this guy? People dying and starving, all because this meathead told us we'd be just fine!" 

As the crisis unfolded, elected leaders went public blaming everything, from the renewable sources that make up a fraction of the grid, to the very people in charge who, with an air of superiority, have hailed the grid’s supremacy for decades, despite scientists, engineers, and other regulatory agency’s warnings of time worn infrastructure--not to mention, the old wive’s tale of climate change, which causes weather extremes.

But after a few days, authorities reached a consensus. It was announced that the storm was the direct cause of Adam Driever’s untimely, counterfactual prediction. 

"It wasn't the people in charge," Ditchweed chamber of commerce president Genessa Tjader told constituents during an emergency virtual meeting. "It’s that darn meteorologist. He did this."

Another long-time critic of logic, Senator Ted Crud, was chastised after leaving during the freeze, for sunny Canncun. His office released a statement that said Crud blamed his regrettable decision on two Johnsonville-sized blunts rolled with Space Queen wax. "Were it not for the fact that he was stoned out of his gourd, the public would be absolutely right to demand his resignation and label him scum. We absolutely concur: that this behavior from any non-stoned leader should be considered balls-out villainy."

“Still,” the statement concluded, “curse that Adam Driever, curse him and his lousy weather report.”

Driever, who has been receiving death threats, has quit working, and moved to an undisclosed motel somewhere in Cannatown’s northern suburbs. Meanwhile, already-desperate citizens struggle to cope with the worst crisis at what seems the 11th hour. “The only consolation I have,” says Simon, “is that we have trustworthy people in charge--sans any proclivity for special interests--who can tell us exactly who to chase with our pick-axes and torches when this is all over.”

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