Pro-Bong
You’ll remember your first bong-rip like your first kiss. It’s sensual, sparks are flying and lips are touching. What’s not to fall in love with? Just like kissing, you might need a YouTube tutorial or two to get it right, but it's easy to pick up and from then on you’re sorted. Want to get kinky and creative? There’s endless bong design options. From store bought specialties such as a terrarium bong, tarot card bong, pickle jar bong and dragon bong…to the more homemade granola-mom options such as the classic water bottle bong, or even a bike pump bong. There’s options for anyone!
Now admittedly, they do look a little like an intimidating sex toy, but if you’re too scared of the big ones you can easily find a small one to suit your taste. Girl-ify it, glitter-ify it, sex-ify it, hell – dress it up like a Polly Pocket! How could you possibly decorate a joint? The answer: You couldn’t unless you’re willing to breathe in the burnt contents.
Who has the time to sit and roll a joint anyways? It’s a plain pain in the ass and there’s no sugar-coating the process. You either roll a good joint or a shit one. All you’ve got to do with a bong is pack a cone to your desired amount and, in the name of Beyblades, let it RIP! So, next time you’re in the ever-enticing R18 section of a sketchy $2 shop, gazing into the glowing glass cabinets of boundless possibility and deciding between that and the monotonous filters and papers below the payment counter, remember these inspirational words: “Sing my song, puff all night long; As I take hits from the bong” – Cypress Hill
Pro Joints
I adore a good bong. I probably smoke more cones than I do joints, and agree with the consensus that bongs are faster and more efficient (unless you cough it all out immediately). However, if I had to go the rest of my life with only joints, or only cones, I’d choose joints every time.
Being shown how to roll a joint is a cherished memory. A touching moment, the passing on of a tactile, tangible skill. Worthy of a commemorative painting or decorative plate. Being taught how to smoke a cone, on the other hand? Tragic. Smelly. Humiliating. NOT mantelpiece material. That memory’s going in the mental vault.
Reclining and smoking a joint is an inherently relaxing activity, while ripping a cone is hit or miss. There are so many times I’ve had my deep breath and mental pep talk before hitting what should be a great cone, only to fuck it at the final stretch and sound like a cat yacking up a hairball. It doesn’t happen often, but just enough to keep me afraid. Jays wouldn’t do me like that. They’re patient and gentle. They don’t go straight for the deepthroat like a cone (rude, btw).
I’d 100% rather be caught in the middle of smoking a joint than hitting a bong. I know this for a fact, as my parents have walked in on me doing both. Several times. It’s so, so much worse to be asked about your laundry mid-inhale, wearing a bong like a fucked up gas masked, just to get spooked by your dad’s voice and half-cough, half-drool a brim’s worth of smoke back to whence it came. Fuck that. Fuck that so, so much.
You can bring a joint into places easily, good luck doing that with a bong. It’s more romantic to share a joint than to share a cone. You can roll joints with tasty menthol filters, and the only bong equivalent is the Listerine we tried on page 31. You have much better conversations passing a joint than during cones, where you’re likely to get too fucked to talk too soon. Joints can be pre-rolled. You could figure out how to pre-pack multiple cones in advance if you wanted, but that would make you a dingus. Smoking jays with people you just met is fun. Smoking cones with people you just met is vulnerable. You don’t have to clean resin out of joints, or worry about spilling bong water.
If I wanted, I could have a joint in my mouth while writing this, but I’m pretty sure I’d have trouble sipping on a bong while typing. Also, it’s jay day, not bong day.