by Josh Jardine
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REGULAR READERS of this column—and
Jah bless all six of you—know that when I’m not sitting in my estate in the West Hills dictating this column to a bank of interns, I have a business that works in several arenas of the cannabis industry, with a focus on event production. Seventeen-year-old me is beyond stoked that I am able to say that, because—dude—that means I have a job throwing parties with weed. Dude. C’mon. Weed parties.
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REGULAR READERS of this column—and
Jah bless all six of you—know that when I’m not sitting in my estate in the West Hills dictating this column to a bank of interns, I have a business that works in several arenas of the cannabis industry, with a focus on event production. Seventeen-year-old me is beyond stoked that I am able to say that, because—dude—that means I have a job throwing parties with weed. Dude. C’mon. Weed parties.
But hold your horses, little man with underwhelming success talking to girls that won’t get any better as you grow up. This year has thrown up some roadblocks, and it’s changed the landscape of events that once allowed us to sample cannabis and maybe get a nice gift bag to take home.
There are two government agencies responsible that you may send a lovely handwritten thank you note: the Portland Office of Neighborhood Involvement (ONI), and—for many, the equivalent of a silent movie villain twirling his mustache while sporting a black top hat and cape—the Oregon Liquor Control Commission (OLCC).