At a concert — years ago — I was dancing in the front row when the familiar aroma of bright piney buds wafted by. It didn’t take long to find the source; a friendly gorilla finger was passing down the line. A sweaty dude in the neon pink knit cap exhaled a big billowing cloud before handing me the joint. Almost a roach at this point, I put the paper to my lips and got a mouthful of tar. As I spat sticky clumps of resin onto the dirt, I thought there’s got to be a better way; a less hack-inducing way to consume weed. And, there is!
