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Have you ever been high, and had someone explain to you in deep, deep detail the “perfect ratio” of ice to water to weed to length of burn and duration of rip when trying to use a bong? Have you ever been lectured to for a half-hour, cornered in a conversation about why a THC-infused chocolate covered espresso bean is both the most effective and least ecologically responsible way to ingest cannabis, from someone simultaneously smoking a joint, sipping espresso, and eating a chocolate bar?
Well, I have. I spent about 5 minutes with the smokers at Mensa and it felt like an eternity. It was worse than the time I had to speak to a cop for an hour while stoned.
You’ve heard of Mensa, right? It’s that “exclusive” society of people with high IQs, where people with high IQs get together to talk about how high their IQs are. As you can imagine, it’s the most irritating club of humans ever congregated. But even worse are the members of Mensa, who have separated themselves into their own subgroup of “Mensa cannabis enthusiasts.”
To get an idea of what this is like, take a moment and imagine just how insufferable these people who are labeled “genius” by an actual, tangible metric are. It’s not just people who think they’re smart, it’s people who have had it confirmed by standardized tests that they took for fun.
Now, separately, think of how insufferable people who always want to talk about weed are. You know who I mean: they’ve had a grow operation in every closet they’ve ever lived in, have a different strain to pair with every single type of breakfast you could eat, and believe weed cures literally every disease that exists. This person is like a sommelier, but one you think you want to talk to until they follow you around asking you if you’ve ever played “the noble sport of golf, but like, while high.”
Take these people, and COMBINE THEM INTO ONE MEGA-WORST-PERSON-EVER. That’s the weed people in Mensa.
Approach someone in this nexus of smugness, and they will drone on ad nauseam about which weed is highest quality and why (and get angry if you even hint at acknowledging that pun). They’ll insist they’re always correct because, well, that’s what both Mensa people and annoying weed people do, and they’ll do it while critiquing each other’s smoke habits. It’s the worst.
While I was there, I was scolded for holding the bag of weed the wrong way — one person claimed the heat from my fingertips was warming up the cannabis too much and causing it to lose certain nutrients and in turn its potency. Another told me I couldn’t stay unless I made an anagram out of my favorite strain of cannabis to describe my personality. When I was asked to roll a joint with the least number of finger movements possible while they counted each twitch, I packed a fat bowl, blew a giant cloud and left, and never felt more relieved to be alone again.
…That being said, Mensa is dumb anyway, so really it’s on me for even joining in the first place.
Cameron Foley is a comedian and writer. He’d prefer you call him Cam.
