The BBD Cup

After my scandalous account of last year’s Cannabis Cup (“Decade of Decadence,” GA #1), the higher-ups here at High Times refused to send me to Amsterdam this time around, breaking a 10-year tradition. Well, to hell with them! Who needs their fancy Cannabis Cup? And why should I spend my time sulking while they have all the fun? If I couldn’t rock their Cup, I reasoned, why not throw my own?

The concept was simple: sequester an elite group of serious stoners (i.e. my buddies) at an undisclosed location in Jersey City from 4:20 p.m. until 4:20 a.m., fill them with Dutch beer and gourmet cheeses, get them higher than they’ve ever been in their lives, then encourage them to select a favorite strain from among their own collective supply. I e-mailed invitations to 20 of the most hardcore heads I know, printed up ballots, ordered a trophy, and just like that the BBD Cup was born. Price of admission: a six-pack of Heineken or Grolsch and an eighth of the kindest bud you can find. Thirty people showed up, 20 of whom participated in the judging process. A total of 10 strains were entered (see below). My buddy Rich also brought some fantastic Northern Lights, but he arrived early, and his small stash was gone before anyone else could try it.

When each new judge arrived, I announced the name of their entry, bagged, labeled and photographed their herb, and put it on display. The largest buds were passed around, touched, smelled and even examined through the lighted loop graciously provided by HT computer guru Craig, while the smaller nugs were sentenced to the grinder and rolled up for consumption by the BBD Cup’s ever-expanding smoking circle. Two joints were rolled for each sample and passed around in opposite directions until each judge had taken several tokes to contemplate the cannabis and record their thoughts on its quality. The ballots required judges to rate on several criteria: smell, taste, smokability, high, an overall rating and miscellaneous comments.

The higher they got, the more interesting their comments became: Galia noted that HP was so strong she “smelled it from across the room.” Craig compared the smell of T3 to diapers. Jose wrote that Ole Toby “reminded me of toes.” Thom found Murder to be “pungent as fuck.” Jessica compared Sour Diesel to novocaine, while Barbi claimed the Strawberry Cough had her “seeing trails,” and Melissa related that smoking a spliff of GaGa reminded her of Costa Rica, despite the fact that she’s never even been there. So yeah, it’s safe to say we were pretty fucking high…

READ THE FULL ARTICLE IN THE MARCH 2005 ISSUE OF HIGH TIMES MAGAZINE

Editor’s Note: I’m putting out the call to all my readers: Get some good buds together, download a stack of blank ballots, maybe even order a custom trophy (www.k2awards.com), and throw your own Cup party this weekend. Then e-mail me (bobbyblack@hightimes.com) with the results and photos, and we’ll post them here on the High Times Web site! – Bobby Black