Confession of Apollo our first contributor

To Wrobert Parker,

3 years ago I was in a major traumatic accident. I broke my back, pelvis and all my ribs.

During the ten days I spent in a major trauma unit I was given morphine intravenously at my discretion. To some reading this it might sound like an alternate paradise, but for a daily pot smoker this scenario is just the opposite.

While the morphine certainly did plenty to dull my pain and allow to me sleep, it also destroyed my stomach and digestive system.

After a day or two of this I was certainly feeling the aftershocks of morphine abuse. I wasn’t sure I would ever shit again. Historically whenever I have had any stomach issues or general nausea my ‘go to’ fix is always, without fail: 3 to 4 bong hits!

Ironically the best cure for not only my pain but now my pain medicine induced nausea is the one thing that a person in a trauma unit cannot get under any circumstance.

Did I mention this all occurred in the state of Utah, where it’s cool to have 8 wives but you get the death penalty for a dime bag.

Needless to say the trauma unit stay was tough, next time I’ll be sure to only crash into a chairlift pole in Colorado.

I continue to be an avid bong smoker almost exclusively if possible. I have multiple homes and have bongs located at each home. It does tend to reduce my international travel but domestically I just throw a bong into my checked luggage and off we go.

I have been a functional high achieving daily pot smoker for nearly 30 years. I have been a partner at a major investment bank and currently work for a prestigious private equity firm via one of their portfolio companies.

My last trip with bong in hand was to a large conference in San Francisco where I was lucky enough to source a buyer for my healthcare services business.

This was a great trip because not only was I able to secure a buyer for the business, but also some of the best pot a guy from the east coast had ever seen, not to mention the recently opened IN-N-OUT burger at the wharf!

The sale of the business took about five months from the time of this trip until the official closing. It was a grueling period of lawyers and accountants and bankers constantly barraging me with arbitrary question after arbitrary question.

The icing on top of this proverbial cake was the post close surprise drug test for every one of my 47 employees including myself. I would note here that we do not require a drug test for employment at my company but the acquiring business does require a drug test. SURPRISE!

I was able to negotiate a 30 day grace period for all employees before taking the drug test so at the very least I knew the casual smoker would be fine. But I smoke shatter and goo which can be 85% THC. I am not sure 300 days would clear my system after 30 years and the recent enhancement in modern day herb THC content levels. So, for the next 27 days of white knuckle sweats with the smattering of REM sleep dreams so real I’d wake myself up (definitely not missing those), I found myself still failing the home drug tests I had ordered online. The panic began to set in. Would the entire deal fall apart over pot smoking? In our current culture regardless of state laws or whatever the answer is ‘yes’ and the risk was real and acute.

Enter the whizzanator and eventually my wife’s cherished piss. Yes, my wife of now 14 years (18 years together) is not a pot smoker nor could you find someone more supportive or incented to help out in this precarious situation.

I chose the whizzanator without the cock attachment designed for parolees as my diligence led me to conclude screening the center would not have armed guards or anyone else watching me piss. So first thing the next morning we loaded the whizzanator with fresh piss and headed off to the screening center. One year later business is growing and we just got a new contract. No one failed their drug test.

I write this anonymously only to protect my family and my reputation, but wanted to step forward in support of the cause and to most importantly dispel the myth of the “Fast Times stoner”.


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