When Getting High Got Stupid

^{Filed Under: Puff Puff Passholes}

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There’s always one. The guy who shows up to a chill session with a Bluetooth dab rig that looks like it needs a software update. The one who announces the THC percentage of his concentrate before he even says hello. The one who asks what you’re smoking, then wrinkles his nose like you just told him you bought weed at a gas station.

This used to be a culture of connection. Now it’s a competition.

We’ve entered the era of stoner one-upmanship. A time when your edible has to be 1,000 milligrams just to get a nod. When taking a regular hit from a joint is considered “lightweight behavior.” When coughing up a lung is a badge of honor instead of a red flag. Cannabis culture, once built on relaxation and rebellion, is starting to feel like a flex-off.

It’s weed, not CrossFit. So what the hell happened?

The Dab Olympics Are Real

What started as a niche within concentrate culture has exploded into a full-on performance. Rigs have gotten bigger, hotter, and pricier. Tools now come with digital readouts and terp profiles. The entry-level rig isn’t even a bong anymore; it’s a temperature-controlled science experiment.

There are Instagram pages dedicated entirely to people taking monster dabs and melting into their couches like they just saw the face of God. There are YouTube channels that frame tolerance as a challenge, not a personal threshold. There are entire dispensary events where people line up to take hits that would tranquilize a horse, just to prove they can “handle it.”

Let’s be clear. Dabs aren’t the problem. The problem is the energy. The ego. The weird masculinity of it all. Like getting wrecked is the same thing as getting high. Like showing off your lung capacity is a personality trait.

The Flexer Taxonomy: Know the Types

You’ve seen these people. You’ve probably smoked with them. You may have even been one, briefly. Here’s a quick breakdown of the most common offenders:

1. The 1,000mg Guy
He takes a full-spectrum edible dose meant for three people, then starts talking about how he “barely feels it.” He’s not fun to be around. He is either lying or on the verge of a breakdown. Sometimes both.

2. The Torch God
He brings his own butane. He takes ten minutes to heat his banger, then lectures you about cooldown time like he’s hosting a TED Talk. You ask for a small hit, and he gives you something that sends you into an existential crisis. He thinks he’s generous. He’s just dangerous.

3. The Terp Snob
This one won’t smoke anything under 30 percent THC. He judges flower by its lab report and tells you that your stash smells “mid.” He uses words like “gas” and “pressure,” but can’t roll a joint without it looking like a crumpled receipt.

4. The Vape Cloud Warrior
Armed with a box mod that sounds like a jet engine, this guy rips clouds the size of a thunderstorm. He does vape tricks during serious conversations. He’s not there to vibe. He’s there to fog the entire room and ask if you saw it.

Why It’s Killing the Vibe

Cannabis used to be the great equalizer. It was for the burned out, the tuned in, the ones looking to disconnect from the bullshit. It was about shared moments and slow burns. About passing the joint to someone you didn’t know and ending up in a conversation you didn’t expect.

Now, that joint is being sidelined by curated terp slaps and pre-weighed rosin drops served on dab swords by dudes in neon hats who won’t shut up about their rig’s origin story.

Weed isn’t fun when it becomes a flex. It isn’t a community when everyone’s comparing gear. It isn’t spiritual when it becomes performance art.

If the entire session is spent watching one dude try to not puke after hitting a bucket-sized glob, you’re not chilling. You’re just waiting for him to tap out.

Let’s Bring It Back Down

This isn’t a call for prohibition. This isn’t anti-concentrate. This isn’t even about dabs.

This is about remembering why we got high in the first place.

Weed wasn’t built on spectacle. It was built on sharing. It was born in basements and park benches, not LED-lit dungeons with quartz slingers and laser thermometers. If you want to melt your brain in private, do your thing. But when it’s a group vibe, read the room.

Bring a joint. Pass it. Talk less about cannabinoids and more about ideas. Laugh at dumb stuff. Stop making every sesh feel like a final boss fight. Getting stoned doesn’t need to be a conquest. It should be a connection.

We don’t need judges. We need joints. We don’t need hype. We need hangouts. The future of cannabis is not about who gets the highest. It’s about who remembers why it mattered.

Because if weed stops being chill, what even is the point?

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