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When I heard that Jay-Z had his own cannabis brand, the first person I thought of was Frantz Pascal. Frantz, an overly fit and always affable Haitian kid originally from Poughkeepsie, New York, was one of my college roommates when Jay-Z’s The Black Album first released. On a near nightly basis, after having finished his day’s responsibilities, Frantz would listen to The Black Album from front to back, while he and a group of friends, most always women, shared a blunt. I never partook, but it wasn’t because I wasn’t welcome. I had quit smoking weed my junior year of high school (having been introduced as a freshman), coming to the conclusion that my usage was slowly suffocating my scholastic and athletic ambitions. Weed was wholly illegal at that time, and while that didn’t bother me morally, it made it that much more difficult to engage with it on a medicinal level. At the time, there were but a handful of strains I could have called out by name (“hydro” and “chocolate” were popular in high school, and then “haze” in college), and the weed I had access to was most often described the way Louis Armstrong categorized music: either “good” or “bad.” Neither option, per my experience, seemed to get me any closer to where I wanted to go in the world. So I watched Frantz and his guests and admired the fellowship they shared when combining The Black Album with the green leaf.

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