A first-of-its-kind report we received from the state Alcoholic Beverage Control Division this week shows that cannabis flower accounted for 61% of Arkansas medical marijuana sales last year, which wasn’t a huge surprise. Flower is king, or queen as they say in the cannabis world.
What caught our eye in the report was that suppositories – yes, cannabis suppositories – accounted for 0% of sales. Sure, patients spent more than $68,000 on suppositories last year, but that’s a paltry sum in an industry that had more than $238 million in sales in 2023.
An intrepid journalist at the Arkansas Times gave the cannabis suppository a try a couple of years ago. Here’s what we thought.
From The Observer on March 29, 2022:
Like a lot of people who pay too much attention to the news, The Observer often wrestles with paralyzing anxiety. The obvious cures — an end to wars both cultural and literal, reinvigorating the journalism industry to its former glory, with teeming newsrooms and an informed electorate — seem a long way off. So, for now, we settle for weed.
Medical marijuana is a game-changer for The Observer, staving off panic and palpitations brought on by pandemics, Putin and the like. An unobtrusive puff on a vape pen doesn’t bother anyone around, and leaves The Observer unbothered, too.
Recently, The Observer learned of an even more discreet delivery method. A friend with whom The Observer sometimes compares ailments and cures sent a photo of an Osage Creek suppository, a 10 mg white pellet, aerodynamically shaped for easy insertion. I was nervous, but gained courage when a few similarly anxiety-ridden friends agreed to join in the experimentation. And that’s how, for the sake of journalism, we made plans to try our luck with cannabis suppositories.
I called my mom for advice, which proved to be a mistake. She had no advice to give and claimed to have no memory of medicating her babies rectally. She seemed perturbed that I even asked.
And then, when the appointed Suppository Sunday came along, the hole gang bailed.
“But I made a playlist!” I texted them. No takers. I was on my own.
My first mistake was keeping the suppositories in the fridge, meaning they were not only slick and slimy, but also cold. Initially the cannabis suppository had the opposite effect of what I was going for: Anxious that it would somehow slide out, I nudged it deeper and tightened my gluteus maximi. My partner laughed as I grabbed a spare set of underpants (in case of leakage) and crab-walked to the car. It was March Madness, after all, and there were basketball games to watch with friends.
Upon arrival I poured myself a ginger ale and settled in on the deck, eyes wide and cheeks clenched, waiting for my anxiety to stop ramping up and start ramping down. My thoughts raced. Are my friends looking at me? What will happen if I uncross my legs? Don’t sneeze, don’t sneeze, don’t sneeze.
It took 45 minutes, but finally all my worries and troubles floated away. I stood up, turned around and asked if anyone could detect any leaks. My friends nodded knowingly. I sat back down and rode the wave, chatting and drawling, smiling and laughing. This lasted for about an hour or two. The experiment was a success.
In The Observer’s expert opinion, the cannabis suppository yielded a high quite different from vaping, smoking or edibles. It was slow to kick in and quick to mellow out. So I would say these are good for anxiety, but only if you’re comfortable with butt stuff. If just thinking about this makes you clench up, these aren’t for you. Another consideration: These suppositories aren’t limited to a single orifice, so I’ll try the vaginal route next time and report back. The Observer knows you’re curious.
H/T: arktimes.com
You can view the whole article at this link Cannabis flower is king, suppositories are at the bottom
