_That smells like weed! I wonder where the weed is. It's a smell that always stops you in your tracks and gets you searching for its point of origin. It's the scent of industry here, like chocolate factories in Hershey, Pennsylvania, or paper mills in inland Maine. ![]() Weed is in the air everywhere you go around here, wafting from the head shops and Russian dispensaries with their neon green crosses alight in the front windows. I'm waiting for Snoop outside Baby Blues BBQ in West Hollywood, and it's the perfect place to wait for Snoop, because this small stretch of Santa Monica Boulevard is a hot spot for California's kinda-legal medicinal-pot industry. You're gonna want weed, even if you don't like weed, even if you've never tried weed, because this is a story about the artist formerly known as Snoop Dogg, and this is the effect he has on people. ![]() You're gonna want to feel your tongue glide across the edge of a blunt wrapper, savor that tiny bit of rug burn you get on your thumb when you try to get your cheap lighter to spark. Because by the end of this little story, you're gonna want to see it, smell it, feel the soft crunch of a bud the size of a pear crumbling between your fingers.
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