Both use and approval are down.

Houston, we have a problem (with marijuana). No, it’s not that youngsters are getting stoned on the wacky weed and crashing cars or dropping out of school. It’s that they’re starting to dislike the stuff.

A report released last week in The American Journal of Drug and Alcohol Abuse shows that not only has cannabis use decreased among teens, but disapproval of marijuana is up. (They could have said that approval was down, but the media is so opposed to putting a positive spin on drug use, even academic news is twisted.) Taking data from the National Survey on Drug Use and Health, the survey is stunning for both its duration, from 2002 to 2013, and breadth, with 500,000 kids across the nation polled. Responses were aggregated from 105,903 younger adolescents (ages 12–14); 110,949 older adolescents (15–17); and 221,976 young adults (18–25).

“The proportion of adolescents aged 12–14 reporting ‘strong disapproval’ of marijuana use initiation increased significantly from 74.4–78.9%,” the report states. “Concurrently, a significant decrease in past 12-month marijuana use . . . was observed among younger adolescents.” Not only did the percentage of kids 12–14 who smoked pot go down (from 6 percent in 2002 to 4.5 percent in 2013), but the 15- to 17-year-olds who in my day were out behind the boiler room getting baked between classes also dropped significantly, from 26 percent in 2002 to 22 percent in 2013.

“With decriminalization, medicalization, and in some places recreational use, and adults no longer viewing marijuana use as an immoral act, we were concerned how it would affect teen use and attitudes,” noted one of the report’s authors, professor Christopher Salas-Wright from the University of Texas at Austin (figures). “But, especially at the middle-school age, youth became more disapproving, not more permissive. And certainly this data tells us we don’t see a dramatic spike at the national level in terms of marijuana use.”

The stats from the National Survey on Drug Use and Health looked at teen use and opinions all across the country. But what about specifically in the states where weed is legal? Surely there, kids love the ganja and use more of it! In fact, no. A study published last month in The Lancet Psychiatry (great centerfold, by the way) tells the same tale. Researchers looked at data from over a million teens in the 23 states that have had medical-marijuana laws on the books from 1991 to 2014, and once again the teenyboppers were nonplussed: “Our findings provide the strongest evidence to date that marijuana use by teenagers does not increase after a state legalizes medical marijuana,“ stated the study’s author, Deborah Hasin, a professor at Columbia University Medical Center.

Now clearly I have no interest in youngsters using marijuana. It’s not great for the developing brain and, like booze, should probably be delayed until at least 21. (Come to think of it, so should cell-phone use and driving!) But given my desire to see cannabis legalized federally, we’re eventually going to need these young people to vote for initiative measures when they arise in new states. Luckily, as teen rates have gone down, adult usage has increased: The number of grown-up cannabis users rose from 26 million in 2003 to 33 million in 2013—a whopping 37 percent. (High five?)

As for kids, decreasing interest in weed is probably one of those deals where what’s cool one day is uncool the next. Facebook was once the rage, and before you can say SnapChat, it’s for parents and Grandma. Same could be true with ganja: “We know American adults are starting to view this as a non-moral issue. We’ve seen the country’s adults changing, and we’re trying to get at what young people think and do,” said Salas-Wright. While states like Washington and Colorado have legalized weed, he noted, these laws “have not resulted in more use or greater approval of marijuana use among younger adolescents.”

The pendulum will swing back and forth, and hopefully smart measures will be put in place along the way to legalize, tax, and regulate marijuana for adult use across the land. It is kind of funny, though: Turns out it’s not Reefer Madness and anti-drug campaigns that are turning kids off to cannabis—it’s legalization.

After 24 years, and several locations, it’s still going strong.

“Not so sure about hitting Hempfest this year, bro,” said my biggest stoner pal TJ, loading yet another fat bowl of black market Blue Dream. “I mean, we legalized it. What’s the point?”

“I’ll tell you why,” I replied, sucking down the tube. “As soon as I can remember what the question was!”

Amazingly, Hempfest is celebrating its 24th year this weekend. In addition to being the world’s largest cannabis rally, Hempfest has always advertised itself as a “protestival,” commemorating the advances of cannabis, and protesting the ongoing War on Drugs—and the fact marijuana is still very much illegal at the federal level.

“Dude,” I began, using a term I reserve only for our stoned sessions. “First, we’re fucking celebrating. Couple years ago you had to worry about going to jail if ya got caught with a bag o’ weed. Today, a $27 ticket….Dude!”

“No, I get it, bro,” TJ replied, no doubt recalling the numerous times he was busted for growing weed in his basement, giving him a permanent black mark on his record and winnowing the field of employers he could work for over the years.

“For me, a big part of the marijuana movement is being around a like-minded group of progressive, liberal, groovy….well potheads,” I noted, trying to sound better than the long-haired hippies—read “cannabis connoisseurs”—I resemble and represent. “Not everyday. But at least once a year. And I’ll admit it: I like patchouli.”

Started by peace-activist Vivian McPeak and cannabis crusader Gary Cook, Hempfest began at Volunteer Park in 1991. (It was originally called the Washington Hemp Expo.) The festival outgrew Volunteer Park as well as Gas Works Park, eventually finding its current home along Elliott Bay at Myrtle Edwards Park, the Olympic Sculpture Garden, and Centennial Park.

“We have been to a few good ones,” TJ mused. “Was it two years ago we bought those Space Cakes from that rasta chick?” (The sale or use of cannabis is not permitted at Hempfest.) “I think I asked her to marry me in the Ganja Gardens…”

“Dude [again, I can’t help using that word when I’m around this guy]! Hempfest is also free! How many festivals with kick-ass music in a mind-blowing setting are flippin’ free?!” In my effort to have TJ attend, I was appealing to his, let’s call it, “financially prudent” side. (Hempfest costs over $1 million dollars a year to produce. Please donate at the event and through annual memberships.)

“We have seen Heart blow the doors off that place a bunch of times,” he admitted. “And damn, Ann was sexy as hell last year; those ladies are still rockin’ babes…”

Over the years, Hempfest has featured hundreds of musical acts, including the Super Sonic Soul Pimps, DXD, Rockin’ Teenage Combo, Herbivores, 7 Year Bitch, Nu Sol Tribe, Vicci Martinez, and Artis the Spoonman.

“I’m still tripping about that Timothy Leary sighting we had,” TJ mumbled, rolling his fourth fatty. “Pretty sure he was there.” (Professor Timothy Leary attended the Peaceworks Park Peace Vigil in 1990.)

In fact, Hempfest isn’t all bands and buds and Butterfingers; there’s an educational element, including Hemposium panels featuring the nation’s leading voices on hemp, medicinal uses of cannabis, and ongoing advocacy, including the No Prison for Pot campaign. Over the years, Hempfest has featured the likes of Jack Herer (activist author of The Emperor Wears No Clothes), Keith Stroup (NORML), Randi Rhodes (Air America), former Seattle Chief of Police Norm Stamper, travel guru Rick Steves, Rick Cusick (High Times), Jack Cole (LEAP), master grower Ed Rosenthal, Dennis Kucinich, and yes, Woody Harrelson.

“Fucking starving, dude,” TJ yelled while peering into his empty fridge.

“That reminds me of when I knew the pendulum had swung, man,” I tangentially countered. “Remember when the cops handed out bags of Doritos at Hempfest?”

“I do not.” (In 2013, Seattle Police conduced Operation Orange Fingers, handing out bags of Doritos with Dos and Don’ts about the new marijuana laws, including, “DON’T drive while high,” and “DO listen to Dark Side of the Moon at a reasonable volume.”)

Hempfest is a grassroots community gathering—and one of the few that has a peaceful vibe through-and-through. Thanks to the thousands of well-trained Hempfest volunteers, as well as a mellow SPD, the event has had hundreds of thousands of attendees without a single major health incident, fight or overdose. (It helps the rally isn’t AlcoholFest.)

“The real reason to go, Bro-ham?” I began, standing on the couch for emphasis and attempting a Pot-Power salute. “The work’s not done, man! Sure you and I can buy outrageously expensive herb at stores here in town, but the Feds think it’s a felony and a hard-core narcotic! Six-hundred and eighty-thousand Americans were arrested last year for marijuana-related offenses! Our war veterans don’t have access to it to help with their PTSD, and parents are having their kids taken away for using it as medicine all over the country!”

“Dude,” TJ replied, looking at my shoeless feet on his couch. “I think you crushed the remote, man.”

“The Revolution will not be televised!” After our laughter died down, I asked a serious question. “Is there a remote possibility you’ll go to Hempfest with me, man?”

“I do need a grinder…” TJ noted, stoned to the bejesus. “Allll right. What day are we goin’?”

Seattle Hempfest runs Friday, August 14-Sunday, August 16, from noon to 8 p.m., at Myrtle Edwards and Centennial Parks. See hempfest.org. Thanks to Vivian McPeak’s book, Protestival: Seattle Hempfest, for clearing up many of our foggy memories.

Counterintuitive but true: Pot can make you more productive.

One of my favorite things to do is get stoned to the bejesus and clean house. And I’m not just talking about casual dusting, either; I’m talking about down on your belly, shoving the long extension vacuum tool deep under the bed and sucking up dust mites and fur balls, only to discover long-lost socks, exercise equipment, underwear (whose are those?!), and enough change to go out and buy MORE weed to smoke and then Shop-Vac the garage. In this way, stoned cleaning is a sustainable endeavor.

Hyperactive cleaning, you may say—but that’s counterintuitive! The stereotype, of course, is that smoking marijuana puts you on the couch, not wildly vacuuming under it. But like so much Reefer Madness, the clichés are all wrong. Turns out cannabis has been proven to aid in focus and concentration, as the body contains cannabinoid receptors for THC that can stimulate and modulate our brain’s neurotransmitters. In states where medical marijuana is legal, it’s even being used to treat attention-deficit disorders, replacing prescription stimulants like Adderall, Ritalin, and Concerta that have nasty side effects and withdrawal symptoms.

“Cannabis appears to treat ADD and ADHD by increasing the availability of dopamine,” noted Dr. David Bearman, who has spent 40 years looking into drug-abuse treatment and uses for medical marijuana. “This then has the same effect but is a different mechanism of action than stimulants like Ritalin (methylphenidate) and dexedrine amphetamine, which act by binding to the dopamine and interfering with the metabolic breakdown of dopamine.”

I know what the Doc’s talkin’ about! When I smoke weed, the THC gives my often scattered flea-brain laser-focus; I’m like Mr. Clean on steroids—intensely scrubbing the grout, determinedly deodorizing and disinfecting, even fire-hosing the disgusting recycling bins caked with foodstuff, wine splatter, and spaghetti sauce. Two-fisted Cannabis Clean!

“The most accepted theory about ADHD rests on the fact that about 70 percent of the brain’s function is to regulate input to the other 30 percent,” Dr. Bearman corroborates. “Basically the brain is overwhelmed with too much information coming too fast. In ADHD, the brain is cluttered with and too aware of all the nuances of a person’s daily experience.” In essence, pot can drive millions of incoming ideas out of your monkey mind, and allow you to focus on the tasks at hand—like spiderweb removal whilst listening to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars.

For me, getting baked is like a triple espresso, with a shot of spiritual matcha chai on the side. My attitude is energetic and focused, with a little theatrical whimsy thrown in for good measure. Suddenly an overwhelming task such as organizing the jam-packed kitchen drawers becomes an important NASA mission! Run by Commander Clutter-be-Gone, the vital undertaking will be executed quickly, efficiently, and with a few odd brogue verbal commands uttered randomly throughout the exercise. High on ganja, the steps become crystal-clear: EVERYTHING must be dumped on the counter, and items slowly reintegrated into the newly labelled (and vacuumed!) drawers: Sharp Things, FSK, Expired Coupons, TupperWare, and a Catch-All drawer for rubber bands, pens, matches, odd keys, and those fawking square things you twist around a plastic bread bag. Two hours later I’ve made Martha Stewart look like a disorganized lowbrow street thug. Not only are the new drawers impeccably organized, they’ve been lined beautifully with all that excess wrapping paper I couldn’t find a place for.

Now has marijuana ever derailed my efforts at cleaning? Yes. Certainly. In fact, I once began with a toilet wand in my hand and somehow wound up naked in my living room under one of the most amazing pillow forts ever created.

Stoned cleaning sometimes leads to related but tangential tasks, such as trips to the refrigerator (more for munching than defrosting), getting lost in family photo albums, and cleaning out closets. While conducting a fashion show for my friend Julie (to determine which items needed to be given away), I began to see how truly cluttered my life had become. Who needs five baseball hats and a dozen belts? Getting rid of the weight of 1,000 unworn Tommy Bahama shirts lifted my worldly burden, and I began tossing unwanted paperweights, plastic cups, filing cabinets, and additional tchotchkes that not only were cluttering my overcrowded physical space, but, more important, my mind, man!

Chipping away at the inside of my microwave the other day, I came to another reefer-induced realization: What do I really know about this strange food-warming machine? What is a “micro-wave,” and what are the effects of molecules being radiated in this way? And why did I choose a toothbrush to clean the grit and grime when a chisel or power-washer would have been far more apt? I pulled my head out of the nuclear device, unplugged the thing, and put it on top of the ever-growing Goodwill pile, then began scrubbing the empty space on the counter.

“When it comes to clean, there’s only one Mr.”: Mr. Chronic.

Holy smokes—I think I missed a spot!