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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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Discover Your Fortune!

Aries - You'd be mostly OK with having to return to work if it wasn't for that morning poop. 

Taurus - Your gym will totally understand you canceling the membership, seeing as they’ve seen you a total of no times.

Gemini - You were hoping the technician would be able to fix your blue tooth, but apparently you actually need an oral surgeon.  

Cannascopes September 2021 - Discover Your Fortune!

Cancer - As you blow your candles out, you'll pose for a selfie with your only remaining post-pandemic pals: your bong, dab rig, and Sherlock.

Leo - You were all excited about your new semi truck until you realized, woah, it takes a special license to drive these things! 

Virgo - Off in the distance, thunder. You’re sitting alone, in the dark, across from a Snickers bar. And things are about to get real bad for the Snickers. 

Libra - You'll know you're getting old when your freaky sneeze makes the children cry.    

Scorpio - The cicadas' death will bring upon a glorious autumn silence until your neighbor loses his mind and gets out the theremin. 

Sagittarius - At first you'll feel guilt for accidentally running the creature over, until you realize, it's that bastard faun who betrayed your family. 

Capricorn - You thought it’d be easy to coordinate activities for the seniors, but they’re growing real bored of Rock Paper Scissors. 

Aquarius - Although amazed by your sudden engineering, your spouse won’t take kindly to having their CPAP machine into an eBong. 

Pisces - The munchkins’ chant from your dream, “Giblets, Goblets and Goo!” will haunt you as you ride into town, terrified of what awaits you next.

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An unsparked spliff found at the intersection of Holcombe and Grand Avenues in Roacheo has itself sparked a quest to find its rightful owner, and, in the chance of its true orphanage, the rightful person who should otherwise spark it themselves.

Although mum at first, it wasn't long before news of the abandoned doobie had reached the locals by storm, with a plurality of the suburb's citizens jamming switchboards by phone to lay claim to the J for days. It was locked away and heavily-guarded, 24-7.

The first at the scene had been Bartelby Jones, a town gossip who happened to “find” the spliff at the corner Tuesday morning at the bus stop. Another laying claim to the pre-roll, Vincent McGillicuty, says the bus stop is in front of his house and therefore the item of interest is likely from his stash. And yet another, Esmerelda Cutler, filed a formal request for custody of the spliff, even though she’s never been to this side of town and is only visiting for RoachFest this weekend from Steem's Point. There were plenty others. 

An unsparked J has worried onlookers wondering who will partake of it

“Obviously somebody out there is probably pretty concerned about this little spliff,” Cheef Officer Caititia Pendleton initially reported. “Everyone can see, it’s extra plump. And stanky.”

The Save the Spliff campaign did very poorly as far as recruitment, until changing name to Save the Spliff for Me. The movement quickly amassed one hundred thousand followers, each eager to smake the joint only to themselves despite its girth. 

The city and particularly, its council, have also laid claim to the rolled flower. Friday, a local magistrate clarified that any entity could be appointed legal guardian and keeper of the joint by the city judicial system, and in doing so, announced that he would undertake such a laborious burden. An immediate appeal to an even higher court led to a decision that all those in the vicinity could partake together of said joint, if consumed equally in a circle--a decision well-received by all parties. An even higher appellate decision will determine who has legal right to spark of it.

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Organoids are tiny organs grown in labs by scientists using stem cells, with the purpose of eventually being used in medicine--or at least, super-cool horror movies. Now a team of scientists have taken it to a new level with “Luther,” a large cranial organoid who has grown “optic cups,” and a tiny mouth-hole. Even more dazzling, the celebrity specimen already seems familiar with the concept, and search for, kind bud.

"The mammalian brain depends on nerve fibers made of retinal ganglion cells, reaching out to connect and transmit information, something we’ve never witnessed in an in vitro system," Barbara Zrjkle of University Hospital Istanbowl told Dispatches. “And this one is clearly searching for some stanky dank.”

Right from the start, the tiny, the humanoid eye bubbles, attached by goopy fibers, began looking to land a satchel, according to scientists on the scene, whose report was recently published in National Science Bee. Luther’s optic cups watched with curiosity as the researchers smaked spliffs during breaks, “ever the more intensely when the joint was passed right in front of him, effectively skipping him in the circle.” The globules continued to glance furtively all over the room, serenely resting whenever they came to a nearby cannabis plant. 

A brain in a small dish appears to be jonesing hard for some kind bud“This brain is jones’n pretty hard," wrote Willy Finket, associate researcher.

Later on, Finket led the charge to move the growing brain mass into a large tank; although meant to be airtight by design and filled with purified saline solution, it wasn’t long before it resembled a neglected aquarium, 75% full of algae and garbage. Still, an attached camera was able to catch the organoid depressingly knocking itself against the glass each time the scientists powered up their eNails to dab. 

Finally, after the brain seemed to shut down in a depressive state for several months, the researchers devised a new experiment, in which the tank was converted to a large gravity bong, forcing the scientists’ gigantic plumes through the organoid’s opaque solution. The optic cups, which by then had grown to full size, turned a bloodshot red, while the mouthhole, still a pinprick, turned up at the corners in what could only be described as a “puerile grin.”

The results were considered immaterial at first, until the faint bubbles, or tiny boops coming from the miniscule mouth, were recorded and edited into full sounds, and then, words. “When pitch-corrected to resemble a real coherent person, it turns out little Luther is speaking what sounds like Italian!” Zrjkle concluded. “Nobody’s been able to translate it yet, but he sure is happy!” 

“From what we do understand, he also keeps asking for pizza pie,” she said.

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CannaSaver Blog

August Cannascopes

Posted by CANNASaver on Wednesday, 18 August 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

Discover Your Fortune!

Aries - You were courageous to embark on the DIY house-painting, but you shouldn't have used water-color. 

Taurus - Now that it's warm enough, you can finally talk about how you'd be jogging every day but it's too hot outside.

Gemini - There’s no need to announce you’re going to the restroom, especially not on a mic during the maid of honor’s toast.  

Cancer - Though you got poked hard in the eye, a jumbo bandaid is not the solution.

Leo - The terribleness of your breath will become crystal clear when they can't resuscitate the dental hygienist. 

Virgo - It might be a greasy old gym sock covered in moldy cheese, but hey, at least it's not Cracker Barrel. 

Libra - The universe will send you three tests, at no added cost, after your couture shaving box.  

Scorpio - It's safe to say you didn't turn into your parents, but at this rate, looks like you'll be skipping right to your grandparents. 

Sagittarius - You have too much pride to ask for help, but as a stoner stuck in the mud in a dinosaur costume, no one wants to anyway. 

Capricorn - You'll realize the thing you've been missing your entire life, is thick, thick corduroy; then the mediocrity will kill you.

Aquarius - Your quest to know thyself will end fittingly in a near-direct DNA match with an extinct family of parameciums. 

Pisces - Now that you've flushed your phone, you can enjoy the things you used to do the old-fashioned way, like looking for a plumber in a phone book.

Cannascopes: The ultimate wisdom

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A decades-long international study at Oxford University has finally determined that patchouli use is directly linked to polite murmurs of “Hey, you gonna eat all that?” 

The study could have important implications for the re-homing and domestication of patchouli users.

“We were unsure there would be a direct causal link between patchouli usage and food scavenging, but after our extensive research there remains no doubt,” head researcher Dr. Victor Samuels told Dispatches. "Just as many have theorized, it is directly correlated to uttered inquiries regarding the completion of an entrée." 

In the double-blind research study, half of the research participants were given either patchouli oil or placebo of skunk spray, to wear for a period of two hours. Participants were then left in a room with a lone other person, seated next to a full plate of vegan cookies, and observed for a period of time.

A patchouli farmer inspects his crop and dreams about bran muffins

The results were unmistakable. Absolutely every person, high on the effects of patchouli oil, couldn’t help but ask the stranger ‘Hey, you gonna eat all that?’ within a matter of minutes.

The participants themselves were as shocked as anyone. “Don’t judge me before you walk a mile in my Birkenstocks,” said one, wishing to remain anonymous.

"Honestly? I don’t even like desserts made of oatmeal and sand,” reported another. “But after a couple drops of the oil, I couldn’t help but fixate on that plate with lustful, wanton eyes. I was helpless, like Gary Busey at a cocaine brunch.”

For Samuels, the study had a personal connection. “I got pretty heavy into the stuff in college.” he recalled. “I’d already experimented with Nag Champa, a 'gateway' essence. Then at Lilith Fair I got so deep in the ‘pogo’ that I just lost control of myself. The last thing I remember is leaving the McLachlan mosh pit to scavenge for half-eaten Morning Star corn dogs. That’s not who I am!” 

“After that, I gave up patchouli cold-turkey,” he added.

Study participants will undergo a strong delousing with Dr. Bronner’s All Natural Shampoo before leaving the research premises, and will be observed in following weeks to track any relapses. Still, Samuels sees hope for those whose lives have gone disastrously awry under the dark shadow of patchouli use. 

“We know just how sensitive this time can be,” he said. “All test subjects are treated with the utmost respect as they deal with their helpless affinities for cardboard-based snackfood and comfortable-yet-unsightly footwear. But if we can ultimately find what makes patchouli users turn into dirty dreadlocked weirdos in tie-dye, then who knows what’s next? We might even find a link between the sun, and like, plant life or something."

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CannaSaver Blog

Smells Ain't Free

Posted by CANNASaver on Tuesday, 17 August 2021 in Dispatches from the Highlands

Don’t pretend ya’ didn’t see me. You were lookin my direction since you walked in the room and I was showin’ the stanky dank to Rollo. That’s right. I got that Purp. You been enjoyin’ her smooth aroma. And I’m tellin’ you right now, son, smells ain’t free.

Bertrand "Purp" DePurp explains the price tag to smell his stash of purp

I shouldn’t have to tell you that! Where you from anyway! You’re in Cannatown Proper now, Jimbo. You never hearda Purp? My name’s Purp. I’M Purp. P-R-P, PURP. I’m the fella that’s listenin’ when you start askin’ Homes here what he’s got available in a violet hue. Violet hue? That’s like askin’ a grey duck who’s a goose!

See everyone ‘round these parts just says, “Purp?” Then I say “What, you need Purp? I got that Purp. I got that Purp right here.” But this ain’t just any Purp. This is like a swig of pure mash. Picked on the edges of Grape Gorge. Hand-picked! P-R-P, Purrrr-urp!

See, that’s why smells ain’t free.

And I saw you treatin’ your shnoz to a couple whiffs. Pull out that cash, son, I also accept bullion--gold. New customer, old customer. Smells ain’t free, not never.

Y’all need that Purp? I got that right here.

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The SS Shitface, a shitty, run-down shrimping boat that became wedged in the Susie Q Sandbar and nearly cut off traffic to indispensable “Free Hash Island,” has been finally refloated, authorities reported on Monday.

The crappy old trawler sailed north to the Great Hitter Lake in the east Highlands, and will now “technically” undergo an inspection. “That’s code for, one massive hookah session with everyone tossing in their own crop, while the boat sits at a dock,” an insider told Dispatches

A terrible, crappy boat is literally blocking the one path to hash island.

Earlier on Monday the Cannatown Cannal Authority said the ship had “responded to the yanking and bludgeoning maneuvers of a small army of front-loaders, driven by ‘somewhat moonshot operators’ eager to get to the free hash on the other side.”

The SS Shitface is one of the most neglected, despicable boats in the world. The one-ton vessel is able to carry roughly ten people and about 20 crates of fish or lobster, and, stretching more than 40 feet, is almost as long as a tree is tall. 

The ship, which ran aground over a decade ago, created terrible disruptions in the free hash supply, especially the connections directly routed through the narrow sandbar connecting Free Hash Island with Cannatown’s 'SupYo' District. 

Around 56% of Cannatown’s free hash passes through or around the sandbar, and locals had gone to all lengths--typically climbing over the smelly, vile old ketch with their own ladders, or nearby pieces of driftwood--to conquer the obstacle. It made the return traverse notoriously treacherous for those whose pockets and carryalls were stuffed to the brim with fresh, fine hash and temple balls. 

Bernie Shootie-Shipmanagymoo, acting captain, originally told officials the boat ran aground due to heavy fog. Over the next couple of months, it became clearer that the actual location of the fog may have played a role in the ship’s deviation--namely, that it was inside the bridge, from some pretty thick rips of White Widow. 

Expert salvage crews were initially called in to help refloat the ship but the project quickly veered off-course and became forgotten as the workers, their friends, families, and then, everyone else, became aware of and mesmerized by all the heaps of free hash just beyond the work site.

Although the boat has finally been freed, those hoping to find happy trails on the sandbar still have to scale the mountain of mud loosened during the operation. But 19,000 citizens have lined up, and are determinedly making their way across the thin stretch of gravel, onto Free Hash Island.

“Even though I miss Ol' Shitface, I say good riddance,” said free hash aficionado Ronny Gregio, a Cannatown resident who used to pole vault over the wretched old junk heap. “That stupid boat. It was the worst watercraft I’ve ever seen.”

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