Ahoy there, dear readership, 'tis your steadfast seafarer of the cannabinoid seas, Seymour, set to spin yet another tale of serendipitous exploration, courageous self-testing, and, inevitably – a dash of misfortune, as I grapple with the mysterious beast called age. This time, my compass pointed me to an exotic and enigmatic vial of 'CBDius Artisticus', an alluring liquid eliciting snippets of promise from the depths of our Grey Whale infested waters.
Adeptly cloaked in eloquent words and indulgent designs, CBDius Artisticus, an intriguing tincture if there ever was one, levitated on a virtual shelf on the world wide web-market, suggesting an aura of renaissance artistry intertwined with modern-day scientific cannabidiol acumen. Housed in a crystal decanter no less remarkable than something out of Leonardo's workshop, it seemed as if a drop or two of this fancifully named cannabinoid solution could instantly transform my rusty joints into Michelangelo's David. Imagine! Me, Seymour, prancing like Botticelli's Venus (minus the nudity, to preserve your mental peace)!
Now imagine my surprise, ladies and gents, when I unearthed the rather…dubious origins of this supposed elixir of life. Yes, my fellow CBD lovers, this particular concoction was tested on none other than a Gray Whale. A leviathan pried from the oceanic depths to serve as a behemoth guinea pig for a glorified bottle of oil. Our Vega-smooching brethren would certainly clutch their chickpea hearts in dismay at such a notion. Such disregard for the aquatic animal kingdom, a sight for sore eyes.
Nonetheless, quelled by the credo of 'do it for journalism', I proceeded to experiment with said 'artisanal' potion to soothe the incessant pang plaguing my extensor hallucis longus, that daredevil tendon, which, to the bewilderment of many, is NOT a Harry Potter spell, but the rebellious tendril linking my big toe to the rest of my foot.
So embark I did on my CBDius Artisticus journey, sprinkling droplets under the tongue with the precision of a master alchemist, hoping for a minor medical miracle. Would I bellow Shanties with the resonance of a Gray Whale or walk with a stride akin to an invigorated sprinter?
Well, for a fleeting moment, I felt the rush of vitality surge through my veins! Perhaps this was the Golden Fleece, the Xanadu of CBD products I've been questing for! Alas, my dear compatriots, this springtime in my step was akin to an April Fool’s joke – a cruel and fleeting explosion of promise, snuffed out mere moments later by the vengeance of my resentful, tortured tendons.
For you see, as the clock ticked on, the effect faded into the sickly shadows of the twilight zone, leaving me a mere shell of the dancing nymph I had been. The stinging pain was back with a vengeance – my trusty ol' extensor hallucis longus was no match for the unfounded promises of the whale-bothering CBDius Artisticus.
So here's my two cents, dear readership, tossed into the turbulent sea of online shopping: Beware the Siren call of CBDius Artisticus. For whilst the romance of renaissance-inspired cannabidiol may flutter fancifully on your screen, the reality is a deep-sea disappointment, tainted by the tears of an unwilling, unimpressed, and unquestionably hefty Grey Whale. Back to the drawing board, it seems – the hunt for the Holy Grail of CBD continues in earnest. Happy sails! The saga of Seymour and CBD shall continue!