Hashish Tar Ancient Method
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This is from unfinished story book "Surprising Book And Film Reviews"... www.stoneriley.com/GDRDS/Gdrds_Surpri...
This item printer friendly... www.stoneriley.com/hashishtarancientm...
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Hashish Tar Ancient Method
{ Old header label is missing. } { Our community has voted this anonymous fragment as most useful of the 'episode one's that we've heard in the 'Surprising Book And Film Reviews' essay collection. We did not vote on how this determination affects all other possible numbering patterns. } { Valve is on. }
Hi. As always, you are welcome here. This is just a quick note to spread the word that I have (probably) guessed the old method for manufacturing hashish tar, the old way, the way your old folks' old folks used to do it, possibly. Although, frankly, I'm guessing.
By the way, I am speaking to you early in the 21st century – early in this century's wars perhaps, from your point of view. My country was losing but unconquered at this time now – so therefore cheap luxuries are allowed here now to keep up national pep. At this stage now, cheap luxuries are still a thing our country's owners can cheaply give the public, just by withdrawing outlaw status from good things that were outlawed earlier as public enslavements and punishments. (Yes, a few billionaire prison owners will inevitably suffer financial loss by the un-outlawing of hemp intoxication, but fuck them.) So good weed hemp is currently legal here in this province where I live. In other words, I am not a criminal for writing this to you. Unless it can be shown in court that I actually wrote this a few years ago, or in a different place, or if incriminating matter is inserted here by police.
See, you know how you really must always put a sheet of slightly waxy paper under your broken buds, on your baking pan in your oven in your prep for making edibles? No?
You're not aware of that? You're not? You're really not aware of putting slightly waxy paper under your broken buds when roasting them in the oven at medium low heat for about 75 minutes until they turn just very slightly crisp and brown to use your bud in recipes for edibles? No you're not aware of that? Well then obviously, you haven't cooked bud yet so it's a good thing you are reading this in time. You should thank me.
Why is the slightly waxy paper definitely needed? To catch the tiny microscopic drips of hashish tar. That shit is thick and sticky. You don't want that shit dripping on your pan. Hashish tar is a gum, a glue, speaking of it chemically. It is a kind of glue, unless it melts, that sticks to absolutely any solid thing. And somehow if that glue is taken in the mouth, in tiny doses, it has marvelous healing powers for human beings. Now when I and you throw those microscopic drips of alchemic tar into our trash can, it seems to me like unnecessary stupid waste.
Obviously I'm postulating this… In the past somewhere there was a society of human beings where they made hashish tar as a frequent regular thing. A farm product probably. Because if I'm NOT postulating that, then my whole claim to guess a so-called ancient method is just wasting your good time, isn't it? Because I may have guessed a new method instead of an ancient one. And then you probably should not thank me. Right?
Well, rebutting that, I will first blankly claim to be an expert amateur historian. But there's no way I can prove this to you, except by pointing to my books which you don't have, so let this point go.
Next, in a better rebuttal of your possible disbelief, I will paint a hypothetical verbal picture – a realistic mental picture, a vivid and quite convincing painting – of a hypothetical place in time where your old folks' or my old folks' old folks likely manufactured hashish tar as a regular frequent thing, a farm product undoubtedly, enough of it to have a regular method which I then guess, so you should thank me. But wait, do you enjoy this fun formal logic stuff as much as I do? Sorry.
Okay. But I am going to show this mental image to you anyway. Allow me that. Because I'm going to show you a mental image metaphor that will impress you, and it will show you my hypothetical ancient druggists in a rather convincing way. I shall. And thereby I shall claim that you should thank me for giving all this happy information.
Van Gogh's first great painting. “The Potato Eaters”. That's it. Go look at if you can. The first great work of an illustrious painter's painting career. That's my metaphoric picture. Those are their faces there. I think they're real human beings. Don't you? Except our poor belabored family gathered there at their little twilight dinner table – they and all their village neighbors too – also grow an ancient native hemp crop – and process it to products – in addition to the Nederland potatoes Van Gogh shows them eating. That's who they were, undoubtedly if they existed, my alchemic ancient druggist predecessors, with their hypothetical standard farm method for catching magic healing tar from slowly roasting bud.
Suppose they do exist somewhere among our human kin, suppose that. I don't suppose they manufactured paper out of barnyard straw or such, with a bit of wax from bees I guess, to have to soak up a precious product of their farms to throw it in the trash. I don't think that.
My guess… I think the village built a special oven, maybe a fresh oven every year. Built from adobe brick or mud and field stone, let's say, with a dry hot air draft into the roasting chamber from above, I guess, where about three shovel fulls of half-crushed bud lies on a smooth hard surface that resembles glassy porcelain. The tiny drips of molten tar flow down the inclined glassy surface to a pool of liquid in which they float and form themselves to little tarry balls.
After roasting, when the oven is opened and the bud is carefully carried off to other processing, some highly skilled and trusted person will pick up the little tarry balls with a pair of brushes, one brush in each hand, brushes that each contain only a few of the stiff hairs from a horse's eyelashes.
The glassy roasting surface is not porcelain, of course, but a kind of very smooth mineral plaster from a nearby mineral deposit.
How did they pack the tar for shipment? Well, for one thing, maybe each little tarry ball's little bit of brush hair was snipped off and dropped with it into some container. They might lie there – each tiny sticky droplet with its tiny whisker handle sticking out – in the shipping container on a bed of flour or some other fluffy dry powder food substance.
What was the oven's catchment liquid? Likely maybe oil from some plant that has just the right consistency re tar and heat. Or maybe alchemic urine from a newly married girl and boy, or something else.
Although, frankly, I am guessing.
{ Valve is off. }
This is from unfinished story book "Surprising Book And Film Reviews"... www.stoneriley.com/GDRDS/Gdrds_Surpri...
This item printer friendly... www.stoneriley.com/hashishtarancientm...
................
Hashish Tar Ancient Method
{ Old header label is missing. } { Our community has voted this anonymous fragment as most useful of the 'episode one's that we've heard in the 'Surprising Book And Film Reviews' essay collection. We did not vote on how this determination affects all other possible numbering patterns. } { Valve is on. }
Hi. As always, you are welcome here. This is just a quick note to spread the word that I have (probably) guessed the old method for manufacturing hashish tar, the old way, the way your old folks' old folks used to do it, possibly. Although, frankly, I'm guessing.
By the way, I am speaking to you early in the 21st century – early in this century's wars perhaps, from your point of view. My country was losing but unconquered at this time now – so therefore cheap luxuries are allowed here now to keep up national pep. At this stage now, cheap luxuries are still a thing our country's owners can cheaply give the public, just by withdrawing outlaw status from good things that were outlawed earlier as public enslavements and punishments. (Yes, a few billionaire prison owners will inevitably suffer financial loss by the un-outlawing of hemp intoxication, but fuck them.) So good weed hemp is currently legal here in this province where I live. In other words, I am not a criminal for writing this to you. Unless it can be shown in court that I actually wrote this a few years ago, or in a different place, or if incriminating matter is inserted here by police.
See, you know how you really must always put a sheet of slightly waxy paper under your broken buds, on your baking pan in your oven in your prep for making edibles? No?
You're not aware of that? You're not? You're really not aware of putting slightly waxy paper under your broken buds when roasting them in the oven at medium low heat for about 75 minutes until they turn just very slightly crisp and brown to use your bud in recipes for edibles? No you're not aware of that? Well then obviously, you haven't cooked bud yet so it's a good thing you are reading this in time. You should thank me.
Why is the slightly waxy paper definitely needed? To catch the tiny microscopic drips of hashish tar. That shit is thick and sticky. You don't want that shit dripping on your pan. Hashish tar is a gum, a glue, speaking of it chemically. It is a kind of glue, unless it melts, that sticks to absolutely any solid thing. And somehow if that glue is taken in the mouth, in tiny doses, it has marvelous healing powers for human beings. Now when I and you throw those microscopic drips of alchemic tar into our trash can, it seems to me like unnecessary stupid waste.
Obviously I'm postulating this… In the past somewhere there was a society of human beings where they made hashish tar as a frequent regular thing. A farm product probably. Because if I'm NOT postulating that, then my whole claim to guess a so-called ancient method is just wasting your good time, isn't it? Because I may have guessed a new method instead of an ancient one. And then you probably should not thank me. Right?
Well, rebutting that, I will first blankly claim to be an expert amateur historian. But there's no way I can prove this to you, except by pointing to my books which you don't have, so let this point go.
Next, in a better rebuttal of your possible disbelief, I will paint a hypothetical verbal picture – a realistic mental picture, a vivid and quite convincing painting – of a hypothetical place in time where your old folks' or my old folks' old folks likely manufactured hashish tar as a regular frequent thing, a farm product undoubtedly, enough of it to have a regular method which I then guess, so you should thank me. But wait, do you enjoy this fun formal logic stuff as much as I do? Sorry.
Okay. But I am going to show this mental image to you anyway. Allow me that. Because I'm going to show you a mental image metaphor that will impress you, and it will show you my hypothetical ancient druggists in a rather convincing way. I shall. And thereby I shall claim that you should thank me for giving all this happy information.
Van Gogh's first great painting. “The Potato Eaters”. That's it. Go look at if you can. The first great work of an illustrious painter's painting career. That's my metaphoric picture. Those are their faces there. I think they're real human beings. Don't you? Except our poor belabored family gathered there at their little twilight dinner table – they and all their village neighbors too – also grow an ancient native hemp crop – and process it to products – in addition to the Nederland potatoes Van Gogh shows them eating. That's who they were, undoubtedly if they existed, my alchemic ancient druggist predecessors, with their hypothetical standard farm method for catching magic healing tar from slowly roasting bud.
Suppose they do exist somewhere among our human kin, suppose that. I don't suppose they manufactured paper out of barnyard straw or such, with a bit of wax from bees I guess, to have to soak up a precious product of their farms to throw it in the trash. I don't think that.
My guess… I think the village built a special oven, maybe a fresh oven every year. Built from adobe brick or mud and field stone, let's say, with a dry hot air draft into the roasting chamber from above, I guess, where about three shovel fulls of half-crushed bud lies on a smooth hard surface that resembles glassy porcelain. The tiny drips of molten tar flow down the inclined glassy surface to a pool of liquid in which they float and form themselves to little tarry balls.
After roasting, when the oven is opened and the bud is carefully carried off to other processing, some highly skilled and trusted person will pick up the little tarry balls with a pair of brushes, one brush in each hand, brushes that each contain only a few of the stiff hairs from a horse's eyelashes.
The glassy roasting surface is not porcelain, of course, but a kind of very smooth mineral plaster from a nearby mineral deposit.
How did they pack the tar for shipment? Well, for one thing, maybe each little tarry ball's little bit of brush hair was snipped off and dropped with it into some container. They might lie there – each tiny sticky droplet with its tiny whisker handle sticking out – in the shipping container on a bed of flour or some other fluffy dry powder food substance.
What was the oven's catchment liquid? Likely maybe oil from some plant that has just the right consistency re tar and heat. Or maybe alchemic urine from a newly married girl and boy, or something else.
Although, frankly, I am guessing.
{ Valve is off. }
Published on May 04, 2018 05:34
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Stone Riley's Shoebox
A poet writing essays. Why the title? You know you keep a large size shoe box with all those creative ideas and suchlike stuff scribbled on the back of electric bill envelopes?
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