Jake Browne, 32, has a job that looks easy but I can guarantee you take more thought than you’re currently imagining. Sure all the 32-year-old has to do is get high as balls and then write weekly weed “reviews” for the Denver Post, but writing isn’t easy and don’t try to tell me otherwise. Do you yahoos have any idea of how much most of you suck at writing? I’m forced to read (aka skim) your Ask a Babe submissions each week. They’re fucking awful. Most of them aren’t intelligible, let alone something I can believe I’m taking time out of my day to read. So before you sit back and think to yourself “Man, what a stupid job, I could do that!” slap yourself across the face and read this next sentence very carefully:
Shut the fuck up.
Now, back to Jake Browne!
Browne goes into one of Colorado’s many new legal weed shops, sparks up, and writes up how the grass makes him feel.
Better still, he writes them up in the style of posh wine reviewers.
‘What’s notably absent are the chocolate notes, instead it’s more of a stale coffee you’d get from a Starbucks cup discarded to a passenger-side car floor. … It’s a Christmas tree, but stripped of the bulbous ornaments,’ he wrote, possibly while still off his gourd.
Browne told the Washington Post, ‘Usually every week I go to a different shop and get [a strain] and review for structure — how it looks, how it smells, how it tastes.
It’s similar to wine criticism, but I get to talk about how it makes me feel as well.
‘I think it’s really essential with there being so many questions that people have these days.’(via)
What questions could there possibly be? It’s weed. You smoke it. It gets you high. Depending on what strain it is you might eat yourself into a coma or whip out some paint brushes and get artsy fartsy everywhere. That’s how high everybody in Colorado is – so high that they need a goddamn weed critic.
#LifeGoals.
[H/T Metro]