Who called it cannabis and not trance plant
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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/apoorvaShrini
๐Ÿ“…︎ Jan 29 2019
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I used to share weed with my friend

You could call it a trance-plant

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/Schrodingers_liar
๐Ÿ“…︎ Nov 24 2020
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This story is about a man called Trevor, and his obsession with tractors.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevorโ€™s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevorsโ€™s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevorโ€™s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasnโ€™t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

โ€œWellโ€ said Jeff, โ€œAs Iโ€™m sure you know the convention comes to town laterโ€.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

โ€œYes of courseโ€ replied Trevor

... keep reading on reddit โžก

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/ShredderSte
๐Ÿ“…︎ Aug 07 2020
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I didn't get this one until I was older, when my brother was told the same "story."

Dad: "You know, we're actually descendants of one of the oldest native tribes in this part of the country, right?"

Me: "Really?"

Dad: "Yeah, The Fagawee tribe. I remember when I was little, your grandpa took me on a spiritual pilgrimage through the forest. He drank a lot and smoked some native herbs. The herbs didn't seem to be working, though, because as it got darker, we seemed to be walking in circles. It was cold in the woods and we seemed to keep coming across the same old log. Finally, in the middle of my dad's spiritual trance, he fell to his knees in a clearing, raised his hands high, and proclaimed "We're the Fawagwee!"

Translation: ("Where the fuck are we?")

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/cookyflukemegg
๐Ÿ“…︎ Jul 30 2013
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