“I’ve been in some of the most intense contact that a man—a human—can be in. I’ve been locked in cars with Snoop. I was in the back of my son’s dispensary and they were smoking every kind of weed in there… weed called Dead Body and Autopsy and all this,” says Ice-T in an exclusive interview. “I was so high that I stood up, did a 360 like I was leaving, and sat back down.”
If there’s a contradiction more compelling than this, it’s hard to find: Ice-T, the rapper who soundtracked generations of rebellion, who rose from the streets of South Central to the badge-wearing screens of “Law & Order,” doesn’t smoke weed—and yet, earlier this year, he opened one of New Jersey’s most anticipated cannabis dispensaries.
At 67, Ice-T isn’t here to perform a role. He’s not here to play into stereotypes or chase quick wins. His story with cannabis is older than legalization. It’s layered, cautious and built around a singular principle: survival.
“I just never smoked,” he explains. “I’m an orphan. I don’t have a mother, father, sisters, brothers, uncles… And I just always felt being high compromised my position in the streets.”
As a young man, Ice wasn’t repulsed by cannabis. He was immersed in it. He sold it. He moved “five-finger bags” in the post-high school years. He watched a friend get kicked out of school for dealing dollar joints. But for himself? Smoking wasn’t part of the plan.
“I felt like being drunk or high was not attractive to me. I felt like if I hit the ground for some reason, it was nobody’s job to pick me up.”
Even as the world around him swirled in smoke and bravado, Ice-T carved out his own lane. No tattoos. No drinks. No drugs. Just eyes open, always scanning.
In one defining moment, a neighborhood OG pressed him to take a hit. Ice refused. The man tried to humiliate him. “You’s a [redacted] if you don’t hit the joint,” he snapped. Ice didn’t flinch: “If I am… Then, make me hit it.” That was the end of it. From then on, nobody questioned him. “He don’t get high,” the same OG would repeat. It became the line of defense. An identity.
“Whatever you’re going to do, it always should be a choice,” he says. “Maybe in college there’s a lot of peer pressure, but there wasn’t peer pressure to do it where I grew up. You just had to stand on your stuff.”
He sees it all as performance. “If smoking cigarettes makes you look cool or drinking alcohol makes you look cool, then you got a problem… you’re doing something else to look cool.”
Still, despite his abstinence, Ice never turned his back on cannabis. He watched the industry bloom. The stigma shrink. The culture shift.
And eventually, he tried edibles. Dabbled in mushrooms. Entered the age of “chronic delay.”
“My son smokes a lot. We say weed gives you chronic delay. So what chronic delay is, if I say, ‘What’s your name?’ You say, [pauses for 3 seconds] ‘Javier.’ I go, ‘You want to go to the store?’ [Pauses for 3 seconds] You’re like… ‘Okay.’ That’s that chronic delay.”
Turns out, even when you don’t smoke, proximity counts.
“I’ve been high off weed,” he says, recalling the aftermath of another visit to his son’s dispensary. By the time he got home, he was in full-blown munchie mode. “We stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts. It was 11:30 at night. I imagine I just needed some donuts,” he shrugs. “It’s not like I don’t do weed. But it’s just never been something I’ve been into.”
Still, he’s quick to acknowledge the joy it brings others. The laughter. The relaxation. The munchies. The vibes.
“It just makes people laugh a lot and eat. That’s all it does. All of a sudden, any comedian is funny as heck. So, that’s fantastic.”
There’s no holier-than-thou attitude here. No superiority. Just perspective. A life built on vigilance that eventually found its way to nuance. And in the background, the business wheels began to turn.
“At the end of the day, I knew that it was a great business opportunity. As time went on, it became clear to me that this was a new wave—and it was something I wanted to get involved in.”
And that’s exactly where the story shifts—from past to present, from personal to professional. The man who never got high has now opened his own dispensary in Jersey City.
The Long Road To The Medicine Woman
For Ice-T, stepping into the cannabis industry wasn’t a celebrity stunt—it was a calculated move, rooted in trust and vision. He wasn’t chasing hype. He was looking for people who’d done the work.
“I knew Luke and Charis,” he says, referring to his longtime friends and now business partners, Charis and Luke Burrett. “I’ve known Charis and them for many years, from L.A. I knew them when they had a clothing line. I knew that they were running a legal cannabis dispensary in L.A. for years.”
The Burretts, founders of The Medicine Woman, had been in the cannabis game long before Ice came knocking. Back in 2015, under California’s Prop 215 framework, they launched the brand as a nonprofit delivery service, long before sleek branding and dispensary lounges became the norm.
That legacy is what Ice wanted to tap into. But what started as a mentorship conversation quickly evolved into something deeper.
“I called them and said, ‘If I have action at getting a dispensary, would you guys mentor me?’ And they said, ‘No, we’ll partner with you and we can franchise The Medicine Woman.’”
The result? The Medicine Woman Jersey City—a 10,000-square-foot facility located at 660 Tonnelle Avenue. Just north of Manhattan Avenue, along Route 1 and 9, the flagship dispensary opened its doors in March of this year.
Ice puts it bluntly: “Nowadays, with the fentanyl and all the different issues, it’s safer to go to a dispensary where it’s straight up… you know what’s happening.”
And that includes their people. The Medicine Woman Jersey City runs with a 15-person team, each one recruited locally. They’ve partnered with Hudson County Community College to provide internships and job training. And they’re collaborating with the Last Prisoner Project to support cannabis justice reform.
“One of the biggest challenges in any community is opportunity,” Charis says. “People with cannabis offenses are at a huge disadvantage when it comes to employment opportunities. We intentionally hired directly from the local community and prioritized those who had been adversely affected by unfair cannabis laws.”
And it’s not just talk. “Now that we are open,” she adds, “we will be able to include these organizations in our events and give opportunities for those affected and those who need more information about their options.”
Ice agrees. “This isn’t just about selling cannabis: it’s about creating opportunity and correcting injustice in communities that were hit hardest.”
Justice Isn’t Blind—It’s Selective. Just Ask Ice-T.
Ice-T’s entrance into the cannabis space isn’t rooted in novelty or nostalgia. It’s built on principle. He’s been watching the contradictions for decades. The hypocrisy. The politics. The damage.
“I mean, I don’t see why it’s not legal,” he says. “I’ve never heard about anybody dying from cannabis. They like to say it’s a gateway drug or this, that and the other. I don’t believe that.”
His logic is direct. No flourishes. No slogans. Just lived experience and the sense that some systems were never designed to protect everyone equally.
And for veterans, the issue cuts deeper. Ice doesn’t pretend to be a combat vet—“I just was in military training,” he clarifies—but he understands trauma. The kind that doesn’t wear a uniform.
“I mean, if I have PTSD, it just comes from living in South Central L.A. I’ve seen people get killed. The door slams and I duck. So I know what that is.”
In a country flooded with prescription solutions, he sees cannabis as a better option for people trying to cope. Something that offers peace without addiction. Still, the irony doesn’t escape him: in places where weed is now legal, people are still locked up for it.
“They should be letting people go,” he says. “If you’re in jail for weed and it’s not a violent offense… Just simple weed convictions, they should be all pardoned, yesterday.”
To him, it’s not complicated. If the federal government legalized cannabis, governors and presidents could act fast. They just haven’t.
He’s not waiting around for Washington to fix things. That’s why he’s backing projects like the Last Prisoner Project and working to build real infrastructure in Jersey—jobs, internships, access.
And when it comes to law enforcement, the subject gets tense. Ice has played a cop on TV for decades. But he’s never confused the role with reality.
“No, they don’t [love me]. That’s the thing about it. Cops are humans. Some of them are cool. Some of them are not. So you never know.”
His conclusion? Simple.
“I don’t trust anybody with a gun.”
As the system catches up, Ice keeps moving forward. With his partners. With his dispensary. With his mission. Always with the same steady lens: power, justice and survival.
Photos courtesy of The Medicine Woman
This article was originally published on Forbes on April 8, 2025. It is republished here with permission. Minor updates were made for timing and clarity.
The U.S. Senate voted, 50-47, on July 22 to confirm President Donald Trump’s nomination of Terrance Cole to be the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) Administrator.
Cole, who just last year promoted an article claiming cannabis is linked to higher suicide risks for high schoolers, is now in the driver’s seat of the current cannabis rescheduling hearing process that’s been delayed for six months.
Under an order from DEA Chief Administrative Law Judge John J. Mulrooney II, Cole now has sole discretion on whether the hearing process, to debate the merits of a proposed rule to reclassify cannabis to Schedule III under the Controlled Substances Act, should resume.
Cole told U.S. senators during his April confirmation hearing that “it’ll be one of my first priorities” to review where the DEA is in the administrative process to reschedule cannabis upon being confirmed.
However, Cole provided no promises on the Schedule III proposal that was recommended by former President Joe Biden’s U.S. Department of Health and Human Services and published in the Federal Register after former Attorney General Merrick Garland signed off on a notice of proposed rulemaking. Biden’s DEA never backed the proposal.
Cole told members of the Senate Judiciary Committee that he’d give “the matter careful consideration after consulting with appropriate personnel within the Drug Enforcement Administration, familiarizing myself with the current status of the regulatory process, and reviewing all relevant information.”
Here’s how cannabis industry stakeholders reacted to Cole’s July 22 confirmation vote.
Aaron Smith, Co-Founder and CEO of the National Cannabis Industry Association – (In an Open Letter to Terrance Cole)
“Last year, we were honored to be designated by the DEA as one of the select participants in the agency’s public hearing process for the Notice of Proposed Rulemaking (NPRM) to move cannabis from Schedule I to Schedule III under the Controlled Substances Act.
“NCIA continues to believe that marijuana should not be subject to the Controlled Substances Act (CSA); rather, that marijuana products should be regulated under uniform product safety standards that apply equally to all licensed marijuana businesses and protect consumers across the country, developed under new federal law that recognizes that cannabinoid products cannot be governed under the same regulatory pathways that currently apply to pharmaceutical drugs, food, dietary supplements, alcohol, or tobacco.
“However, our association recognizes that the DEA has only been considering the rescheduling of marijuana. We are eager and ready to work with the DEA and Trump administration to, as you said during your confirmation hearing, ‘listen to the experts’ and ‘follow the science,’ which we are confident will lead to a change in marijuana’s status federally. The rescheduling process under the previous administration was unnecessarily protracted and fraught by allegations of malfeasance within DEA and we look forward to your renewed leadership to expedite this process and fulfill President Trump’s campaign promise to ‘unlock the medical uses of marijuana to a Schedule III drug’ and ultimately ‘implement smart regulations, while providing access for adults, to safe, tested product.’
“As such, we strongly encourage your office to continue advancing the cannabis rescheduling process in a timely and transparent manner. The recent recommendation by the Department of Health and Human Services to reclassify cannabis to Schedule III is grounded in the scientific, medical, and legal standards required by 21 U.S.C. § 811. Rescheduling would help eliminate unnecessary barriers to research, reduce burdens on legitimate businesses operating under state law, and bring federal policy more in line with overwhelming public opinion and decades of state-level reform.
“As DEA considers next steps, we respectfully urge your administration to recognize the importance of collaboration with stakeholders who can offer real-world insights into the public health, enforcement, and operational impacts of federal cannabis policy. NCIA and our members welcome any opportunity to be constructive partners in that effort.” – Aaron Smith
Kyle Sherman, Founder & CEO of Flowhub
“We’re watching the appointment of DEA Administrator Terrence Cole closely. While his background overseeing Virginia’s [Public Safety and Homeland Security] may seem encouraging, questions remain about the political motivations behind his selection. President Trump made clear just last week that this was a Governor Glenn Youngkin-backed appointment and publicly stated he would hold Youngkin accountable if Cole does not deliver. Youngkin, notably, has not been a supporter of the cannabis industry.
“Fortunately, Executive Order 14215, issued by President Trump in February 2025, ensures accountability at the federal level. Section 7 of that order explicitly prohibits agencies and their employees from issuing legal guidance or interpretations that deviate from those of the President and Attorney General. This safeguard exists to prevent political freelancing and keep federal policy aligned with the administration’s commitments.
“If Administrator Cole honors this Executive Order, the will of the public, the President’s promise to unlock safe access to medical cannabis through the reclassification of cannabis to a Schedule III drug, and his own promise to ‘listen to the experts’ and ‘follow the science’ as he testified during his nomination hearing, we’re hopeful he can be an agent of long overdue reform. But we’ll be watching closely.” – Kyle Sherman
Anthony Coniglio, CEO of NewLake Capital Partners
“The conversation around cannabis policy is again clouded by speculation. What we know is limited—but meaningful. Mr. Cole has said cannabis rescheduling will be ‘one of [his] first priorities,’ and that he will rely on science, expert consultation and the framework of the Controlled Substances Act to guide his decision.
“That’s not a political promise—it’s a procedural one. And in today’s regulatory climate, that matters.
“More telling is what Mr. Cole has made unequivocally clear: His focus will be on dismantling fentanyl networks and transnational criminal organizations. That aligns with the DEA’s 2025 National Drug Threat Assessment, which notably downplays cannabis and instead emphasizes synthetic drugs and the organized crime groups behind them. In that context, rescheduling cannabis isn’t just a policy adjustment—it’s a way for the DEA to better distinguish between bad actors and law-abiding, compliance-driven operators.
“Whether Mr. Cole will be a steward of regulatory modernization or a placeholder for the status quo remains to be seen. But the next 100 days offer a chance to turn a long-overdue page. If he leads with science and enforcement clarity—not outdated fears—this could be the start of a smarter, more modern drug policy.” –Anthony Coniglio
Terry Mendez, CEO of Safe Harbor Financial
“The Senate’s advancement of Terrance Cole’s nomination as DEA Administrator is a consequential development for the cannabis industry. With the rescheduling of cannabis under federal law stalled, the incoming DEA leadership will play a defining role in whether that reform moves forward—or remains mired in uncertainty.
“While we welcome Terry Cole’s stated commitment to reviewing the rescheduling proposal, the industry needs more than vague assurances. We need regulatory clarity, fairness, and above all, urgency. The decisions ahead will directly impact the viability of thousands of licensed cannabis operators and the broader financial infrastructure supporting them.
“However, even in the most optimistic scenario where cannabis is rescheduled from Schedule I to Schedule III, we must be clear-eyed about the limitations of that change. Rescheduling does not equate to legalization. It will not eliminate the burdensome compliance regimes that currently deter most large financial institutions from entering the market. Anti-Money Laundering and Bank Secrecy Act requirements will still apply, and the cannabis industry will remain federally criminalized in practice—if not in label.
“Contrary to popular belief, banking services for cannabis businesses are not unavailable today—but they are fragmented, costly, and carried disproportionately by smaller, specialized institutions like Safe Harbor. Rescheduling might offer incremental improvements, but absent updated FinCEN guidance and comprehensive congressional action like the SAFER Banking Act, the financial exclusion of cannabis operators will continue.
“This is a moment to double down on the push for safe banking, tax equity and transparent regulatory treatment. At Safe Harbor, we are committed to ensuring that cannabis businesses—large and small—have access to the financial tools they need to thrive. We urge the new DEA leadership to move swiftly, and Congress to act decisively, so this industry can finally be treated as what it is: legal, regulated, and essential to communities across America.” -Terry Mendez
The Wisdom of Oz: Green Grass, White Powder & Black Sabbath
by Chris Simunek
When you look back at the history of rock’n’roll, it is almost exclusively populated by people from two categories:
Those Who Got Fucked Up, and
Those Who Got Really Fucked Up.
For the latter part of the ’70s and all of the ’80s, Ozzy Osbourne was the Chairman of the Board for category number two. I learned of his legend the way most kids my age did—from pimple-faced geeks in denim jackets with their favorite album painted on the back. The story was always told with the appropriate reverence: He invented heavy metal, he drank a lot, he did a lot of drugs, made some great albums, was kicked out of Black Sabbath for being a loser and then he went solo, bit the head off a bird, bit the head off a bat, pissed on the Alamo, had a guitarist that died in a freak plane crash, went through a period where he looked and dressed a little like Liz Tay lor, and now he is sober and quite successful, albeit a bit shell-shocked.
On the heels of his successful Ozzfest tour, a traveling roadshow that has packaged the likes of Marilyn Manson, Tool, Type-0 Negative and Pantera, Ozzy stunned his fans with the announcement of his reunion with the other members of the original Black Sabbath lineup: guitarist Tony Iommi, bassist Geezer Butler and drummer Bill Ward. It’s something they’d been threatening to do for a decade, but the authentic Sabbath hadn’t played together (aside from a Live Aid appearance) since 1979. On December 5, 1997, they played in their hometown of Birmingham, England, a city of industry that makes Pittsburgh look like Paris, and recorded the show for their new live double-disc set, Reunion.
THE FOLLOWING INTERVIEW GOES TO “II”
Ozzy and Tony Iommi were in New York recently for a Letterman appearance and a meet-and-greet at the new Virgin Megastore in Union Square. When their people contacted HIGH TIMES about a possible interview, I thought it was a prank. I imagined some high school enemy of mine at the other end of the line— “Yeah man, Ozzy wants to hang out and do bong hits with you guys and then Alice Cooper’s gonna drop by with a couple peyote buttons…” Verifying my sources, I found it was true, Ozzy did have something to say to his bonghitting brethren, and was waiting for us in a suite at the St. Regis. Not wanting to undertake such an important mission alone, I invited Rob Braswell, HIGH TIMES’ production director/token metalhead, to join me. What Ozzy and Tony had to say to us we weren’t sure, but we weren’t going to pass up a chance to sit and giggle sycophantically at the feet of our gods.
We arrived early and had a few Berliner weissbiers at the Old King Cole bar to calm our nerves. As we discussed what questions we should ask our favorite air-guitar jamming partners, we both agreed this wasn’t a music interview. If you want to know what Ozzy thinks of the new album or where Tony nicked the riff to “Iron Man,” go read Guitar Player. We wanted tales of rock n roll debauchery, nothing more, nothing less. Ozzy’s people called the bar and informed us that the King of Doom was ready to see us. in the lobby, we were met by a publicist who told us that Ozzy was sick of talking about his indiscretions at American national landmarks and his past cruelties to the animal kingdom. It was implied that a good interviewer might want to steer clear of such subjects.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. ”I just want to talk about drugs.”
Ozzy and Tony were finishing up a previous interview when we walked into their suite. They were both dressed in classic black with large crosses dangling from their necks, sunglasses covering their eyes.
“Are you rolling yet?” Ozzy cracked as we entered.
When you meet Ozzy, it’s kind of like shaking the hand of a man who just came out of a 30-year panic attack. His hands tremble, his voice stutters, but imagine how you’d feel if you’d spent over a quarter-century in a drunken stupor, screaming your ass off in front of a wall of deafening amplifiers, tweaked on enough central-nervous-system stimulants to jump-start Walt Disney’s cryogenically frozen heart. Having heard that Ozzy was completely sober, I asked him if his rolling remark was just a joke.
“Why, you got any?” he inquired.
“Of course,” I said. “You think I’m going to come to this interview emptyhanded?”
“Is there any grown in New York?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“What I used to do was nip every other leaf so it would grow out instead of up.”
I smiled. Ozzy had given us a genuine grow tip.
“What did you do?” I asked. “Grow it outdoors?”
“Yeah,” Ozzy said with a grin. “But then I got paranoid.”
The word hung there, begging a response.
“Yeah… to coin a phrase. So I’ve got to ask you about Sweet Leaf. Where did that come from?”
“Well, what do you think?” Ozzy laughed. “We used to smoke pounds of the shit, man. We used to buy it by the fuckin’ sackful. We used to be so fucked up all the time. Wake up in the morning, start the day with a spliff and go to bed with it. Yeah, it started to get… I started to get the heebee-jeebees. I was mixing all kinds of other chemicals. Booze, coke, pills…”
“Do you see a difference between pot and other chemicals?”
“Absolutely,” he said, waving his cigarette. “This, for instance, tobacco. I couldn’t smoke as many joints a day as I can this fuckin’ stuff. Gotta legalize pot. I’m all for the legalization of pot, decriminalize it. I don’t smoke it myself, but if anybody wants to smoke it, fine. I got busted for it. We all did.”
“Speaking of busts, what was it like for Black Sabbath to go through Customs in the ’70s?”
“Pretty scary.”
“Did you guys ever have to drop trou?”
“Oh yeah. I remember one time we went from Detroit to Canada through the tunnel. I grabbed one of the guys and asked him, ‘Have we done all the drugs?’ Then I go through my bags and empty them again and, remember them pipes you could get with a fish pump? You got like a fish-tank pump and all these wires and you put the pot in and you just suck on the pipe. They found that.” Ozzy hit his cigarette and chuckled. “Big rubber gloves, the whole nine yards. For fuckin’ smoking pot, man.”
“Do you get more paranoid in the States?”
“I just get paranoid,” he said. “When I do coke I’m like Mr. Paranoia. I’m fucking scared shitless. When you combine it with Demerol and opiates you get real fucked up, you know? You think to get normal, you have to get high. Anything in moderation, but with cocaine I couldn’t.”
“It makes for good VHi documentaries though,” I commented. “You guys in the ’70s had a rep for taking the most amount of time to record records.”
“We were fucked up!” Ozzy laughed at the obvious.
“Which record took the longest?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tony answered, not as impressed by Sabbath’s more dubious accomplishments as I was.
“We went to Canada one time, uh…” Ozzy looked at Tony to help him pull the memory out.
“Never Say Die.”
“Never Say Die took fuckin’ forever,” Ozzy said, and the two of them giggled like kids remembering a particularly naughty Halloween prank. “We got this guy coming around giving us bags of cocaine every fuckin’ Wednesday and we’d be like—” Ozzy clenched his face like a coke-freak frozen in action.
“Oh yeah,” Tony said. “When we started out the albums were quick and then…” He shrugged his shoulders, as if there was nothing that could be done about it now.
“With coke,” I wondered, “wouldn’t you record the album fast?”
“You’d do it and then you’d forget what you were doing!” Ozzy said laughing. “We couldn’t turn the fucking tape machine on! We’d turn like pause’ on instead of play/record,’ you know. We’d be playing for fuckin’ twenty-four hours.”
“These neat little bags,” Tony said, reminiscing, “Just chop us another line out! Get another can of beer out the fridge! Roll another joint!” Ozzy shouted. “We used to smoke blocks of hash. Big fuckin’… we used to buy hash by the pound.”
“And coke,” said Tony. “We used to buy these sealed bottles of coke.”
“Government-sealed,” Ozzy added. “We rented this house in Bel Air and we just had these fucking packages up to here—” With his hands Ozzy indicated a pile about the size of a Volkswagen. “It would come in like big gallon-bottles with a spoon on it, covered with a seal of wax. This coke was the best coke that I’ve ever had. I’m lying by the pool one day and I met this guy and I ask him You want to do some coke?’ He goes, No no no.’ I’m whacking this stuff up my nose, it’s a brilliant sunny day, and this guy’s sitting there with one of those reflectors under his chin getting a suntan. I say, What do you do?’ He says, I work for the government.’ Uh… what do you do with the government?’ I work for the drug squad.’ I sez, You’re fucking joking. He shows me his badge. I fuckin’ flipped. I was fuckin’—” Ozzy slammed his fist in his chest like a raging heartbeat. “Flames were coming out of my fingers, man. He says, Oh you’re all right, I’m the guy that got you the coke.’
“We all got fucked up but me and Bill went fuckin’ a little bit further,” Ozzy continued. “Bill ended up in a psychiatric fuckin place. Bill’s antidrug, antidrink, antieverything now. He don’t mince his fucking words either, you know.
With the coke and all these chemicals. 1 got a chemical imbalance in my brain. I’d become really shaky. I have to take Prozac and various medications just to stabilize me.”
“So you never drink, or every once in a while you’ll have something?”
“I don’t drink right now’. Every once in a while is like… I’ve done OK so far, you know’.
I’m not going to say Til never drink again.’ I don’t know. When I’m doing a show’ and I can smell that wonger out in the front, it does tempt me. One thing about the cocaine, though. It used to isolate you and you used to stay in your room paranoid. You buy a bag of white powder and the paranoia soon follows.”
“I’ll never do it again,” said Tony, remembering a promise he once made.
“And when you hear those birds going in the morning tweet-tweet you want to get a fucking machine gun and shoot every bird in sight.
When the day breaks it’s horrible. And what do you do when you wake up? Snnnnnnmmmmfff. Like a fiend, you know.”
“Why is it that so many rock stars crack up?” I asked. “Isn’t it supposed to be the best job in the world?”
“What other job can you imagine where the more fucked up you turn up, the better people think you’re gonna be? Oh fuckin’ Tony’s stoned or Ozzy’s stoned or Bill’s stoned… it’s going to be good fun tonight.’ Too much of anything, eventually you pay a price. If you play now, you pay later, I don’t give a fuck what it is.”
“Is it rough to be sober these days?” I asked, sensing a bit of regret in his voice.
“It sucks,” he replied bluntly. “I don’t like being sober, but say you chopped some lines, I’d go, ’Yeah, I’ll go for it.’ By twelve o’clock I’d be hanging off the fucking building screaming with a bottle of vodka in my hand. Once I start I can’t fucking stop. I gotta go all the way, you know.”
“So what do you do now to fill the gap?”
“Play with my dick,” Ozzy answered with a laugh. “In the ’70s there was a big period of time when I used to drink cheap wine and do ludes. I’d be like fucking jelly and the audience would be like a pond, a fucking oil slick. They were sweaty fuckin’ downed-out fuckin’…” Ozzy trailed off, as if he could still see that placid sea and then asked, “Did you ever try the original Quaaludes?”
The cooler half of Black Sabbath trained their eyes on me and for a moment I felt like a pink, newborn fetus. “No,” I answered with shame. “That’s a little bit before my time.”
“They were fucking wonderful, weren’t they?” Ozzy said and then looked to Tony for confirmation. “I could still get them,” Ozzy offered. “I know somebody who froze ten thousand.”
“Froze them?” I pictured a skinny hipster with sunken cheeks stocking up on 714s so that when the world’s methaqualone supply ran out, he could rise from his bunker and be the Lord of the Lucies.
I was running out of questions and would have to wing a few.
“We were wondering like…” I combed my beery skull for a relevant topic. “Well, since Meatloaf came out with Bat Out of Hell II and Frampton came out with Frampton Comes Alive II, would you ever come out with Volume IV, II?”
“No,” Tony answered as if I should know an artist of his caliber doesn’t repeat himself like that.
“I don’t think so, no,” Ozzy said, pondering the question before a grin split across his face and he let out another tremolo laugh. ” Volume IVII, yeah. Volume IV1/2 * 2… he-he-he.
“We had a question about like, uh… heavymetal fashion in the ’80s.”
“Oh, don’t,” Ozzy started. It was obviously a sore subject.
“What was up with that?”
“I look back at some of those things and I was drinking an enormous amount of booze. Every day I would drink four bottles of Hennessy, a case of Budweiser and as much fucking dope as I could get down my fucking face. As much as I could. I was overdosing on a daily basis.” Ozzy laughed again at the thought of it. Unlike other sober-rockers, he still gets a kick out of his past.
“That’s where the funny clothes came from?” I asked.
“I think that’s where the funny everything came from,” he answered. “We all thought we looked cool. Now we look at ourselves—gay wasn’t even the word. Gay people used to come to us and say, What are you fucking doing, man?’ ” Ozzy pondered for a moment and said, “It’s all part of the crazy world of rock’n’roll.”
I made the mistake of mentioning the time Ozzy put on a dress and redecorated the Alamo and he visibly cringed. It was like asking Achilles to repeat the story about the time he fucked up his heel. He was somewhat appeased when I informed him that this incident was now a highlight of the Alamo tour. At first he didn’t believe me, but I swore to him that a Texan friend had just seen it.
“They should put it in the Guinness Book of World Records.” offered Tony.
“Your own indelible mark upon American history,” I said and a proud, impish smile spread across Ozzy’s face. Our time was running out, so we asked Ozzy to autograph a few records. I handed him my beaten copy of Paranoid. With a quivery hand Ozzy scrawled “Get Stoned” across the gatefold and then signed his name. It was advice from an expert.
Back down at the Old King Cole, Rob and I felt invigorated, like we’d just been to the Rock’n’Roll Doctor and he’d given us a shot of Vitamin Cool.
“He was just like I imagined,” Rob cooed.
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes full of butterflies. That a guy could go through what Ozzy did and still be on top was more than luck, it was damn close to a miracle. When the going got tough, he dressed up in women’s clothing and pissed on national landmarks.
I decided from that point on to try and be more like Ozzy.
He has a message for people like me: If you want a yellow brick road to follow, you have to pause sometimes and paint the stones yourself.
Several reforms to North Dakota’s medical cannabis law are set to take effect August 1, including the sale of low-dose THC edibles and extended timeframes for the validity of medical cannabis cards, the North Dakota Monitor reports.
Edibles now allowed under the medical cannabis program may contain no more than 5 milligrams of THC and no more than 50 milligrams per package. The products can be in the form of a lozenge or a square shape; other foods or beverages are not allowed.
Jake Mittelsteadt, director of retail operations for Pure Dakota Health, told the Monitor that allowing edibles could be a game changer for patients.
“Since day one of this program, the amount of people that joined the program, that come to the state, everybody, especially in the older demographics, their priorities have always been gummies and edibles.” — Mittelsteadt to the Monitor
Under the reforms, patients will also be able to qualify for the program via telehalth rather than just using telehealth services to renew their medical cannabis cards. Medical cannabis cards are also now valid for two years instead of one.
TG joined Ganjapreneur in 2014 as a news writer and began hosting the Ganjapreneur podcast in 2016. He is based in upstate New York, where he also teaches media studies at a local university.
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