This post is dedicated to my freshman year pot dealer Phil.

[Runcible Spoon]

Phil was a 300 lb Punjabi, a real life incarnation of the Buddha of buddha. Always mellow, always good prices, always good shit. Always down to toke a bowl out of his humidifier or 6 footer. Room always scented with imported Indian incense sticks, silk throw pillows to sit on, mood lighting, bootleg Indian ska and reggae tunes I spent years trying to track down on the internets. And, best of all, if you came on a Monday chances are his mom left a huge box of homemade samosas and you haven't smoked Purple haze til you've smoked it with chocolate milk and samosas.

Wherever you are Phil, I rub your tummy in my mind for good luck!
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