It's Just a Plant, Man

The overcorrection in the cannabis narrative

One can imagine a stonebag having a conversation with Stephen A. Smith:

—

“Duuuuuuuude Stephen A maannnnnn, chill, haha,” the stonebag says “weed is just a planntttttt, man” and takes a hit of a bong.

“It’s just a plant! Stephen A. almost falls out in his chair, “Who convinced you of such nonsense? You have been hoodwinked, bamboozled—”

“Nahhhhh” he says before taking another rip, this time recording a snapchat video, “It’s just a plant, man” as he starts coughing.

“My brother,” Stephen A. puts his palm in his face, “what else have you done today, what have you accomplished?”

The stonebag is still coughing too hard to answer. Stephen A. waits, looking at him with a contemptuous raised eyebrow.

“Or are we to believe that this is how you spend your time? Smoking the weed? Recording yourself smoking the weeeeeedduhh?”

The stonebag lifts his head and becomes serious. “I actually am like, more productive when I’m high.”

“At what exactly, my brother?”

“uhhhhhh”

“I’m listening!”

“well it’s like, I’m actually like, better at stuff when I’m—”

“yes I heard you my brother but what stuff precisely?”

“ummm well I’m more like creative, like it’s the creativity man, like—”

“And where are your creations? What have you made?”

“uhhhhhhhhhh”

“English, my brother.”

“ummmmmmmmmmm…yooooo, hahaha” the stonebag gets distracted by a TikTok.

Stephen A. turns to the camera. “Ladies and Gentleman, he’s too zooted! This is what happens when you don’t stay off the weeeeeeduhhhhh. He’s French Toast!”

“Duuuuuuuude Stephen A maannnnnn, haha, chill, haha” the stonebag says “weed is just a planntttttt, man” as he starts packing another bowl.

—

Good ole weed. That loud.

There are undeniable positives. It can help people who are suffering. It can make the most ordinary moments fascinating.

You become more present. You appreciate things deeper. You feel the creative juices flowing in a new, exciting way. Sweetest of all—you laugh until you’re in pain. Like an episode of The Office, nothing is really happening, but everything is the funniest thing ever.

However, when it comes miss mary je wanna, we here in Massachusetts have been led astray. Flat out deceived. The story of weed is now one of a hero. A harmonious healer. Just a peaceful plant.

But of course, it is not just a plant. Spinach, for example, is just a plant. Marijuana is a powerful substance. One that has profound physiological effects on people.

I have no interest in cherry picking studies showing why weed is good or or cherry picking studies showing why it is bad. I don’t care. I only have anecdotes. Memories of people who used to be great athletes but now look like skeletons—people who used to have light in their eye, but had it robbed by the lil green ambition thief.

One can’t help but wonder if this is downstream of our culture ignoring that, despite its redeeming qualities, weed is still very much a villain.¹

There is the image of stuffy 1950s people with plaid shirts tucked into their high rise pants saying weed is the *nasally voice* “devil’s cabbage.” This is the key to understanding the overcorrection in the cannabis narrative—it used to receive such intense hatred that in 2024 we think wow: it was fine all along. Evil old bad people hide weed good! The reality is messy, that it is neither completely the devils cabbage nor just a plant, man. But what it is clear to me is that we live in a society radically skewing towards denying it’s dangers.

Some examples. I knew some girls at university who said they smoked “for their anxiety.” Most of the time I became convinced that weed was, on the contrary, a primary source of their anxiety. I wondered how much calmer they would be in general if they weren’t habitually smoking something that often leads to feelings of self-consciousness and paranoia.

More recently, I was at a Yankees game. There was a uniformed police officer chiefing right outside the stadium. I don’t know in what world having a clapped cop on duty is a good thing. The same way I wonder how having tons of people—especially young people—constantly baked could be a good thing.

It sucks. Looking at someone and knowing something is off. They don’t look as good. They seem a little less sharp. The saddest part is always the eyes. “The eyes chico,” Tony Montana said, “they never lie.”

“jOE rOGaN, SnOOp dOG, thEy smo—”

You’re not Joe Rogan! You’re not Snoop Dogg. You’re smacked, laying around, scrolling around, doing nothing. Nothing.

Like that Elvis song it’s just breaking my heart, cause you’re not you.

1. “…learn from Hamlet’s tables that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”

― Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms