Ladies and gentlemen, Greg Kruppes.

Once again, the smartest guy in the world, Thutas,

takes to the ether through the almighty fog that prevails

here in a room that is redolent and rent and full with gigantic

puffy clouds of marijuana smoke.

We're here on East Queen Street in Toronto.

At Toronto's most salubrious marijuana smoking refuge,

the underground, hooray for us.

Wow, if I could describe the circumstances here to you,

ladies and gentlemen, for those of you listening out there

in Proop Caslan, and by the way, this is an awesome time

to light your first one of the day.

As I so often say, mornings are harsh.

The sun comes up, you've got to sit up in bed, it's fucked.

You've got to go brush your teeth and whatnot.

There's a lot of responsibilities when you first get up.

A big huffy is the way to take the edge off of a lot of that,

and make your orange juice taste like it's a psychedelic drink

brought from another universe by a platonic,

fucking band full of Martians who come in a little craft

that only bears pulp.

So it's a groovy little room.

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