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☁️ Miles High Club ☁️ 🥖 Let's Sweat This Bread 🥖

Miles Klee
Miles Klee
Devoted reader, I summon thee… to Miles High Club.

Let me assure you, the rumors are true: MEL Magazine, the world-class men’s lifestyle and culture website (as well as my employer since 2017), after shutting down three months ago, is coming back with new owners.
It’ll be somewhat different, of course, but a lot the same, and I’m thrilled to be a part of it—there’s only so long a man can sit on his couch and listen to shoegaze records while reading novels. Wait a minute, that sounds great. Why did I agree to have a job again? Oh, I’ve fucked this all up.
We’re not publishing until August, however, and in the meanwhile I get to continue inflicting this weekly compendium on you. It’s too late to stop. I’m like Tony Soprano when Carmela tells him not to jump into the pool.
Exceptional form.
Exceptional form.
Lackluster Lettuce
I’ve had quite a journey as a cannabis fan. From humble beginnings as a sober east coast kid who nevertheless looked high in every yearbook photo to becoming a regular at an LA pot shop where I’m heavily taxed for my vice, I’ve had just about every stoner experience you care to describe.
Maybe that’s why I find photos of shitty weed so funny.
Bradford Pearson
My contribution to the weed discourse is that I just found this literally laying on the sidewalk so *maybe* it shouldn’t be a big deal if the fastest woman in the world smokes some.
This poor writer, Bradford Pearson, just wanted to make a point about the American sprinter Sha'Carri Richardson, who won’t be competing in the Olympics after testing positive for THC, the psychoactive compound in marijuana. Instead, he was mercilessly clowned for possession of ditch herb, which was variously likened to Italian seasonings, catnip and lawn mower cuttings. The consensus was that it belonged where he found it.
Miles High Club stands with Richardson; the Olympics are hugely destructive as well as morally bankrupt, and she should be allowed to smoke bowls like she does her competition on the track. Yet who could resist the impulse to tease a guy staging his impassioned defense of an athlete with this sad bag of shake? It’s just as good as when some police department proudly announces that they’ve seized an entire gram and poses for an official photo with it.
To take a third view, though, this is only a matter of historical perspective. Legalization has spoiled us, because if your friend had this stash in 1983, you’d be more than grateful to share it.
Big Healthy
How come everything is cool when it’s vintage but not when it comes down to weed?
Big Healthy
I be smoking vintage strains. Here’s some aged chronic from 1999
If that photo gives you a migraine, you probably remember coughing on similar stuff. Take a moment and celebrate how far we’ve come. And remember: you can’t post weed without bringing out the critics. Yeah, stoners are generally laid-back… just not about their favorite drug.
Bradford Pearson
I can’t believe after a decade on this site the worst roasting I’ve gotten is over some dumbass weed I found on the ground.
Let's Sweat This Bread
Almost daily, a heretofore unknown Twitter account sparks an outrage beyond comprehension. Unquestionably the “best” uproar of this week concerned the etiquette of eating free bread you get at a restaurant. Note the results of this poll and the mind-boggling number of votes cast in it.
had this argument in a gc but i wanna know the truth. isn’t it very tacky for somebody to eat the free bread as soon as you get it?
you should wait five minutes before reaching for the bread. if you that hungry you should’ve had a pregame meal.
That settles that.
That settles that.
By my math, that’s over 358,000 individuals—more than a third of a million—agreeing online. One cannot adequately emphasize how rare and special this is. Not a fucking ounce of patience for the idea that warm rolls, baguette slices or garlic breadsticks should remain momentarily untouched for the sake of decorum. We are all greedy pigs, and we are at peace.
America is musty
I'm so invested in watching the numbers on this poll rise. She's gonna go down as the single most wrong person ever in the history of twitter arguments. All bajillion of em. We're witnessing history folks. Seriously.
The public would never have learned of this supremely bad opinion were it not for the author’s classic mistake: trusting a bunch of strangers to validate you after actual friends refused to put up with your nonsense. ‘Tis better to take the L in the private groupchat than start trending on main.
Since the internet is not all-powerful, the villain at the center of this story couldn’t be shamed into admitting their error, and will continue to practice aloofness toward the baskets the rest of us prefer to lunge at. Credit to those who tried, but she wasn’t going to be swayed by reason. Honestly, it might be simpler to convince her to never eat the bread.
coom d’etat
when the bread they bring out to your table at the restaurant is actually warm
That Doge Won't Hunt
Lastly, a word on the state of horniness.
Many of you will recall that the early 2010s were awash in “doge” memes, or pictures of Shiba Inu dogs with text meant to suggest a rudimentary dog language. Since then, the enduring popularity of Shiba (or “shibe”) content has fueled an upstart cryptocurrency called dogecoin, which reached surprising valuations despite being an elaborate joke.
But doge is pulling double duty these days. When it’s not mixing up the market, it’s sniffing out people who dare to hint at personal arousal.
As doge has been a prevalent image for a decade, you forget to ask why it is now policing our sexual mores. Who put the shibes in charge of the parameters around human attraction? Equally mysterious is this doge society where some shibes are violently anti-horny, while others are openly carnal and punished for it. What manner of canine dystopia is this?
The confusion evidenced here is, naturally, our own. We are in control of our bodies and thoughts—and also not. We may loathe cops, incarceration, snitches and slut-shaming, but we move in a digital Panopticon where everyone is visible and available for judgment. We are always in a horny jail from which there is no escape, each of us both prisoner and warden. Doge is merely the convenient proxy by which we displace this inner conflict.
By trying to send your friends to “horny jail,” you reiterate the trap: there is no accusation of horniness absent the flame of horniness in yourself. Game recognize game. We can try to disguise the facts with adorable, silly shibes, but this pushes us further from the self-reflection that would allow us to feel happy, healthy and fulfilled.
Besides, there are better things to monitor and criticize. Like… the consumption of free bread at restaurants.
All right, all right, I’ll get out of your hair. Please do send along any tips, comments, corrections, queries or requests. And if you’re a veterinarian, please let us know exactly how horny Shiba Inus are.
By the way, Miles High Club has a tip jar: $3 per month eventually adds up to my next tank top, and therefore another gratuitous selfie. Upgrade to premium membership!
I didn’t have anywhere to put this in the issue, but I added a wonderful new crab photo to my collection, and you deserve to see it. Enjoy.
The only gamer I respect.
The only gamer I respect.
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Miles Klee
Miles Klee @milesklee

Internet nonsense and chill vibes.

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