I am painfully aware of the ubiquity of lists, having toiled for more than 20 years in the increasingly “advertorial” jungle that is local publishing. The so-called “Listicle” has bloomed from amusing and flexible format filler, to the official coin of the realm. What better way to thoroughly explore a subject than by reducing it to a few hundred playful and pithy words, ranked in order of vapidity?

So anyway, here’s my list.

I’m going on six months at the cannabis dispensary, and the rotating cast of characters would make Federico Fellini shake his head in wistful wonder. Werner Herzog, on the other hand, would laugh coldly and say, “What do you expect, you idiot? Your kind is weak and stupid.”

5. Sir Lawrence Oblivier: A man born OUTSIDE OF TIME!

SLO: Time is it?

Me: 1:22 pm.

SLO: What’s your Happy Hour deal?

Me: It’s OG Kush for $43.75 a quarter. But that’s only during Happy Hour, between 9-11 am, and again from 4-6 pm.

SLO: Time is it?

Me: 1:23 pm.

SLO: When’s Happy Hour?

Me: Daily between 9-11 am, and again from 4-6 pm.

SLO: Huh. *15 minute pause* Did it used to be different?

Me: No.

SLO: Time is it, now?

CURTAIN

4. The Complicated Diagnoses: Science can’t help me!

Male patient was recently struck in or around the head with a baseball bat, and requires a potent strain with mystical healing properties—for $6, if possible.

The female patient needs something to “chill my shit down” and make it easier to sleep. But the patient doesn’t wish to be asleep, too soon, so the strain should have some lift and last a while. Patient was diagnosed with Planet Sickness (“You can’t even mention Planet Sickness, or everyone will think you’re nuts!”), and vibrates at near-dangerous levels. It is therefore of the utmost importance that she falls asleep at the same time every night. “You’ve heard of this, right? That TV doctor was talking about it!”

Patient became extremely agitated upon discovering that it was not Happy Hour.

The male patient has Crohn’s Disease and is a recovering addict who missed his methadone dose. He requests “something stinky and sticky that will turn my lights out” for no more than $10. He also has a fresh dog bite on his arm, but he’s not too worried about it at the moment.

3. Wheeler McDealer: Entitlement is his middle name!

Despite my earnest declarations that I’m too far down the company hierarchy to make any sort of impromptu bargains, WM will wheedle and whine relentlessly for any kind of bonus perk, including the inspired idea that he ought to receive a free joint on his first visit or birthday. Swayed by this sound logic, I try the same approach at Taco Bell—and am forcibly removed from the premises.

2. Tall Taylor: He’s partied with everybody!

With long hair turning grey and a wispy beard that sweeps down passed his ankh, this hippie vagabond could be anywhere from 30 to 110 years old. Our selection of strains, he scoffs, is nothing but “Christmas Tree weed that’s total bullshit and most likely controlled by the tobacco industry.”

Apparently things used to be different, back in the day, when he could crash at Bob Marley’s house as long as he wanted, hanging out with Jerry Garcia and Bob Dylan. They’d stay up for days writing perfect music that the world will never hear, smoking mighty spliffs of purple ganja dripping in hash oil. And then they’d all join hands and walk into the sea.

1. Soccer Mom Rookie: The new fish is lost at sea!

I’ve never been to one of these places, can you believe it? My mom told me marijuana would lead to harder drugs, isn’t that funny? She’s dead now, poor thing. Do they still call it marijuana, or is it cannabis now? My nephew Billy told me I should get something with a lot of THC for my anxiety. Am I saying that right? THC? What does it do? I still need to work tomorrow, so I can’t get all zonked out. Do you have any pot that won’t make me really hungry? I didn’t get a chance to go to the store and there’s nothing in the fridge. Do you guys just order pizza all the time? What about rolling papers? I don’t know how to roll a doobie and I don’t like all that nasty smoke in the house and neither do my dogs. The point is, I really need to relax…