Stress is misunderstood. In turn, that means weed is misunderstood. People just don't get stress in Southern California. i live in the San Gabrielle Valley and we have the best weed in the world here. i've been smoking it every day, 3 to 6 times a day for well over 3 years. you'll see why i'm telling you this. stress is really nasty weed. it is in fact potent though. it gets you really fuckin stuck. i've smoked it a few times a year since i started blazing- whenever the random occasion came up. Stress is for different cliques of smokers; black people, older people (from the 70s), and bluntheads are examples of groups who often partake in smoking mids (a prettier term for the higher end of brick weed). Context; (Southern California) An ounce of some dope mids may cost you around $80. An ounce of some bomb kush may cost you $380. Both are fine deals. Granted, one gram of that kush is probably the equivalent to 5 or 6 grams of those mids. Many people have never smoked mids yet like to think they have and proclaim "I don't smoke stress, blah blah blah, it doesn't get me high, it makes my vagina sore, yadda yadda yadda" Neither I or my friends can stand such naive and spoiled stoners. in Socal they are rampant (probably more then less)- since kush is readily available on any street corner here, a lot of the smokers are completely spoiled and clueless about the WAY other cultures smoke weed. In rural states like Nebraska, what they consider to be the dankest weed around is what many Southern Californians would hardly recognize as regulars (myself included). But you don't need to disrespect the presence and culture of those who DO smoke mids. dissing on mids is unnecessary and makes you look like a cocksucker to most experienced smokers. When I was younger a lot of my friends would discriminate so vehemently against blazing mids that you would basically be ashamed, guilty and offended if you ever admitted you smoked them. but that's exactly like hassling some guy for having sex with over weight women. get over it seriously who cares? Some of my friends were so sensitive and bitchy about only smoking bomb weed that i could not even take them to roll with me through certain spots. Recalling a mids session; i was selling some weed (the high quality kind) to this kid, and his whole family smokes. a great juxtaposition of the whole kush-to-mids hierarchy here- this 17 year old would be taking a .2 bong toke of kush and in the next room a 38 year old is rolling a few gram joint of some mids. it was a chill place to blaze. this particular day i was on my way to work (a retail clothing store, i was 18). i don't really care for blazing all phat just before work, i think it makes work more boring and strenuous in a way. i saw his father just chilling on the sofa watching television and sat down to say what's up to him for a minute. i was out the door, but on the coffee table I noticed a marble sized chunk of mid level cannabis. Alongside was an orange pack of rizzlas. "can i just break up that herb and roll it real quick" "yeah; let's get high". I probably hadn't smoked mids in months- like i said, i never really do- i had no idea what to expect but really only remembered all the under estimators and haters yelping "stress is the devil" like propaganda. i wasn't expecting to get super faded or nothin. For one thing, true mids (AZ for example) are the fuckin DENSEST nugs of cannabis ever. Like dense as a brick. this marble sized of weed just kept coming and coming, until i had broken up and rolled what was easily a one gram joint from what might have been mistaken for a .3 bowl. I blazed it all right, and got sooooo fuckin stuck it was unbelievable. Not only that, it tasted maybe one thousand times more tolerable then a cigarette- immediately discrediting the mythical "mids taste like ash!!" nonsense. i was fucking wasted. i was trying to walk it off or some shit, at my pad before work. whatever. same thing every day. clocked in went to the register, and i swear i had a line of 8 people the whole shift- i was working that slow. it was stoney as fuck. at one point i gave some women the part of the credit card receipt that the cashier is supposed to keep. "no, this ones for you" *hands it back* "yeah yeah- obviously" *just stoned* I will never forget how fuckin blitzed and surprised i was over that bombass mid spliff. so to me mids is like that uncle that everybody hates for some reason, who you actually talk to one random year at a family gathering and have a great conversation with and leave thinking "hey, you're all right!"