Coffee Cup Club
Art, Coffee, Food, Santa Monica, West Hollywood, Los Angeles, Moscow, New York, Sweden, Russia, Lima, Paris, Barcelona, Monaco, Tahiti, Pod People, Frog People, Ferraris, Lamborginis, Aston Martins, Jags, Lexus, Bugatti, Beverly Hills, Sunset Strip, food from India, food from Deli's, food from Outer Space, Google Speaks, Kasha, Chocolate, Lakers, Expresso, Lattes, Ice coffee, French Roast, Espresso beans, Columbia
Mitch Rubman's Coffee Cup Club
Night Coffee
Monday, May 25, 2026
who ordered this?
French pastries at Figaro Cafe. As civilization continued with the morning experience. These items became more enticing. Must have some fruit in the morning. These offer creme fraiche and a spectacle of colors.
Saturday, May 23, 2026
One‑Page Pitch: The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization
One‑Page Pitch: The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization
Title: The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization: Rubman, Mitch, Fassett, Mucci: 9781733311076: Amazon.com: Books
Author: Mitch Rubman Genre: Cultural Commentary / Memoir / Social Critique Length: 178 pages Publication: August 31, 2025
Logline: A sharp‑eyed cultural observer dives into the chaotic, comedic, and unsettling world of modern cannabis culture—revealing what our obsession with weed says about who we are becoming.
Pitch: In The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization, Mitch Rubman delivers a raw, funny, and incisive chronicle of America’s rapidly shifting relationship with marijuana. What begins as a series of bizarre encounters—from smoke‑filled lounges to street‑corner deals—unfolds into a larger portrait of a society drifting toward numbness, distraction, and self‑inflicted decline. Rubman’s voice blends the gonzo energy of Hunter S. Thompson with the sharp bite of a social critic, capturing the absurdity and the danger of a culture that has normalized what was once taboo.
Through scandalous stories, vivid characters, and unfiltered commentary, Rubman exposes the contradictions of cannabis culture: the promise of relaxation that masks deeper anxiety, the illusion of connection that hides growing isolation, and the celebration of “freedom” that often leads to escapism. His observations are not academic—they’re lived, witnessed, and delivered with the comedic timing of someone who has spent years watching society unravel from a front‑row seat.
Beneath the humor lies a serious question: What does it mean when a civilization embraces a substance not just as recreation, but as identity? Rubman argues that the rise of cannabis is a symptom of a deeper cultural drift—one that reveals our collective desire to check out rather than confront the challenges of modern life.
Why This Book: This book stands at the intersection of memoir, cultural anthropology, and social satire. It offers the narrative punch of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas with the cultural insight of modern social‑critique nonfiction. With cannabis now mainstream, legal, and celebrated, Rubman’s perspective arrives at the perfect moment—provocative, timely, and impossible to ignore. Readers who enjoy bold, unfiltered takes on contemporary culture will find this book both wildly entertaining and uncomfortably true.
WEHO The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization
Most people think cannabis turns you into a couch‑locked dropout, but that stereotype shattered the moment I tried to understand the two men who shaped my life: my father and my brother. Both of them love cannabis — not casually, not secretly, but as a daily ritual that fuels their creativity, softens their pain, and, strangely enough, keeps them moving forward. I picked up this book project to understand why. What I found was far more enlightening than I expected.
The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization is a memoir‑driven exploration of family, identity, and the misunderstood plant that quietly shaped our lives. Through intimate stories, cultural history, and candid conversations, the book challenges the lazy‑stoner myth and reveals how cannabis can become a tool for reinvention. Everyone I meet who uses it says the same thing: it helps them reset, rethink, and rebuild. This book asks why — and what that means for the rest of us.
Part personal journey, part cultural commentary, The Rise of Cannabis invites readers to rethink what they think they know about cannabis and the people who love it. It’s not a pro‑weed manifesto; it’s a story about understanding, healing generational gaps, and discovering that sometimes the things we judge the most are the things we understand the least.
Santa Monica

What an interesting surprise to stumble upon this "book" in blog format! It's definitely exciting to hear all those stories from someone who experienced them firsthand (not necessarily fully consciously, lol). The experiences in the different locations perfectly reflect the social structures surrounding those places. Going to a lounge in New York is not the same as going to a "dispensary" in Lima, yet we can see that the experience is enjoyable in both places. When I read the book's title, I expected a formal essay stating that the rise of one was directly proportional to the decline of the other, but no. The book is a light read with a very well-told and enjoyable chaos. Recommended.
Tuesday, May 19, 2026
Pitch Letter to Book Reviewers: The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization
Pitch Letter to Book Reviewers
Subject: Review Copy: The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization by Mitch Rubman
Dear [Reviewer Name],
I’m reaching out to share a book that has been surprising readers across backgrounds — from cultural critics to casual readers to people who grew up around cannabis and thought they’d heard it all. Mitch Rubman’s The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization isn’t a policy book or a manifesto. It’s something far more unusual: a travelogue‑meets‑cultural‑sketchbook built from years of notebooks, street encounters, and conversations in places most people only glimpse in passing.
Early reviewers have called it:
“A sharp‑eyed wander through smoke‑filled back rooms and neon‑lit dispensaries… funny, reflective, and surprisingly human.”
“Provocative, intriguing, and thought‑provoking… ideal for readers seeking ideas that challenge traditional thinking about cannabis.”
“Authentic, confusing, and extraordinarily human — between laughter and discomfort.”
“More than weed… a lived‑in, unfiltered look at a massive, misunderstood subculture.”
Rather than arguing for or against cannabis, Rubman observes the world around it — from New York to Los Angeles, from Egypt to Peru — capturing the humor, tension, risk, and reinvention that shape the culture. Readers have described it as stepping into someone’s personal notebook: candid, curious, and unexpectedly sincere.
If you’re open to reviewing the book, I’d be happy to send a digital or print copy, along with any additional materials you may need. I believe your audience would appreciate a work that blends reportage, travel writing, and cultural anthropology with a voice that’s both self‑aware and entertaining.
Thank you for considering it. I’d be delighted to hear your thoughts.
Warm regards, The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization: Rubman, Mitch, Fassett, Mucci: 9781733311076: Amazon.com: Books
Monday, May 18, 2026
Bird talk
Tuesday, May 12, 2026
Tuesday, May 5, 2026
Rise of Cannabis Review on Amazon
The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization is less a conventional argument than a long, intimate memoir stitched from diary entries, street memories, travel stories, dispensary scenes, and afterthoughts about what cannabis has meant across one man’s life. Author Mitch Rubman moves from teenage initiation in Queens to Boston student years, New York hustles, Los Angeles smoke sessions, legal-era dispensaries, and the oddly mournful sociology of modern cannabis culture. The book keeps circling the same essential question, not with a thesis so much as with a shrugging, searching consciousness: as weed becomes normalized, commercialized, and everywhere, what exactly have we gained, and what have we lost?
What stayed with me most was the book’s candor. It isn’t polished into tidy self-explanation, and that turns out to be part of its force. Rubman is often funny in a way that feels accidental and therefore real, whether he’s rolling while driving on the Major Deegan, recalling the ashtray full of roaches in a borrowed Beverly Hills Mercedes, or chasing cheap shake with the desperate ingenuity of someone who knows both the ritual and the trap of habit. There’s a restless, talky, half-stoned music to the prose that sometimes spills over into repetition or rough phrasing, but even then I felt the pulse of an actual life on the page. The strongest passages have that scruffy memoirist magic where danger, absurdity, loneliness, and appetite all occupy the same sentence. The early robbery with Snake, the eerie New York encounter with the scar-faced dealer, and the Luxor detour into mysticism all give the book a bruised, wandering vitality I found hard to dismiss.
Rubman’s central premise about cannabis and civilizational decline is deliberately loose, almost provocatively so. When he lists “locked bathrooms,” hunger, expensive eggs, and mismatched weed-container lids beside “free joint Fridays” and planted trees, the effect is less analytical than diaristic, less argument than worldview. On one level, I wanted a sharper line of thought, more pressure on the title’s big claim. On another, I think the vagueness is revealing. The book becomes a record of how a person thinks while living inside a habit for decades, how economics, friendship, boredom, grief, appetite, and longing all get filtered through smoke. Its most interesting idea is not really that cannabis causes decline, but that the culture around it exposes the texture of a society, its loneliness, its opportunism, its flashes of tenderness, its little indignities, and its odd forms of fellowship.
I found this book oddly moving and unmistakably personal. What remains after the last page is the feeling of having spent time with a man who has made cannabis not just a habit but a lens, sometimes comic, sometimes sad, sometimes almost spiritual, through which he’s watched whole decades slide by. I’d recommend it to readers who like unruly memoirs, countercultural diaries, and books that value lived texture over formal neatness.
Sunday, April 26, 2026
Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization Updates, controversy, humor, cultural critique, and a narrator with a pulse.
The Rise of Cannabis and
the Decline in Civilization
Paperback – August 31,
2025
by Mitch Rubman (Author),
Mucci Fassett (Illustrator)
172 pages
ISBN-13978-1733311076
· A
Chaotic Road Trip Through Weed, Politics, and the American Psyche.
· “A
gonzo journalist who traveled through the cannabis boom and came back with
stories that are equal parts hilarious and horrifying.”
· “A
modern-day Hunter S. Thompson wandering through dispensaries and dystopia”
· “A
cultural critic disguised as a stoner tourist”
Pearl A
5.0 out of 5 stars A
thought-provoking look at cannabis
Reviewed in the United
States on January 22, 2026
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
The Rise of Cannabis and
the Decline in Civilization by Mitch Rubman is a book that shows how cannabis
use has increased in modern society and the potential implications for
decision-making, culture, and health. Rather than focusing on shock value,
Mitch Rubman adopts a thoughtful and analytical stance, challenging readers to
consider trends that are frequently disregarded or accepted. What makes this
book a worthy read is its balanced tone and how it doesn't come across as
judgmental but instead invites readers to reflect and form their own opinions.
The ideas are clearly explained, and it was so easy to follow, especially for
readers who are not familiar with the subject. As a whole, this book was a
meaningful read with a touch of humor and perspective. It encourages awareness
and seeing the bigger picture behind modern societal changes.
Jorge Sánchez Parra
5.0 out of 5 stars NIce
point of view
Reviewed in the United
States on January 20, 2026
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
This book goes far beyond
talking about cannabis: it’s a chaotic, funny, and very human journey through a
culture that has become part of everyday life. Through anecdotes, humor, and
uncomfortable moments, it raises interesting questions about productivity,
values, and social change. It’s not a serious or moralistic essay, but rather a
lived from the inside kind of diary. It’s an easy, entertaining read that also
leaves you thinking. Ideal for anyone who wants to understand the phenomenon
without taking it too seriously.
Johnny Chica
5.0 out of 5 stars An
enjoyable chaos
Reviewed in the United
States on January 21, 2026
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
What an interesting
surprise to stumble upon this "book" in blog format! It's definitely
exciting to hear all those stories from someone who experienced them firsthand
(not necessarily fully consciously, lol). The experiences in the different locations
perfectly reflect the social structures surrounding those places. Going to a
lounge in New York is not the same as going to a "dispensary" in
Lima, yet we can see that the experience is enjoyable in both places. When I
read the book's title, I expected a formal essay stating that the rise of one
was directly proportional to the decline of the other, but no. The book is a
light read with a very well-told and enjoyable chaos. Recommended.
Christian M
5.0 out of 5 stars Between
laughter and discomfort
Reviewed in the United
States on October 17, 2025
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
This is not a political
discourse, but rather a lively travelogue compiled from years of notebook
entries. I laughed at the great stories and the eccentric locals, but the
warning in the subtitle resonates in the background. Rubman captures the thrill
of access along with the gray areas: street deals, underground rules, and the
trafficking of happiness. I appreciated the sincerity more than the lists, but
the journey feels authentic, confusing, and extraordinarily human.
Diana Pe
4.0 out of 5 stars Good
read
Reviewed in the United
States on October 21, 2025
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
I can say that this book
was a total surprise. When I started reading it, I thought I was going to find
some kind of serious essay or perhaps a harsh critique of the impact of
marijuana on society. But what I found was something completely different: a kind
of chaotic, funny, and very human travelogue, written by someone who has
clearly lived and smoked every one of the stories he tells. What captivated me
most was that the book weaves together a collection of anecdotes, notes,
thoughts, and scenes in the style of an informal log. This book is definitely a
collection of moments experienced by someone who has been deeply immersed in
cannabis culture for decades. If you're interested in this world, you should
read it.
Nix
5.0 out of 5 stars A very
good read!
Reviewed in the United
States on March 26, 2026
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
Halfway through this book
I looked up and said to my friend, “I think this author has been quietly
judging humanity for years.”
Piaras
5.0 out of 5 stars High
Times, Sharp Observations.
Reviewed in the United
States on January 22, 2026
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
Mitch Rubman’s The Rise of
Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization reads like a sharp-eyed wander through
smoke-filled back rooms and neon-lit dispensaries, guided by a journalist who
knows how to listen. The humor lands easily, but beneath it sits a genuine
curiosity about the people, rituals, and quiet codes that shape cannabis
culture.
Part travelogue, part cultural sketchbook, the book moves from New York streets to Los Angeles lounges, collecting strange encounters and candid moments along the way. It’s funny, reflective, and surprisingly human—less a manifesto than a lived-in portrait of a world usually glimpsed in passing.
Norman
5.0 out of 5 stars High
Times and Hard Truths
Reviewed in the United
States on October 23, 2025
Format: KindleVerified
Purchase
The Rise of Cannabis and
the Decline of Civilization is more than a story about potheads: it's cultural
anthropology in disguise. Mitch Rubman's sharp observations and scandalous
encounters expose the colorful chaos of cannabis culture, from smoke-filled
lounges to street transactions. His tone is part Hunter S. Thompson and part
social critic. A messy, funny, and fascinating chronicle of how marijuana
became mainstream, and what that says about us.
###
Friday, April 24, 2026
A chaotic, funny, and sharply observant travelogue through the smoke‑filled lounges, neon dispensaries, and underground corners of global cannabis culture.
A chaotic, funny, and sharply observant travelogue through the smoke‑filled lounges, neon dispensaries, and underground corners of global cannabis culture.
Part gonzo journalism, part cultural anthropology, part diary of a man quietly judging humanity while passing the joint.
As cannabis goes mainstream, journalist Mitch Rubman sets out on a years‑long journey to document the rise of a plant—and the strange, revealing, sometimes ridiculous world growing around it. From New York lounges to Los Angeles storefronts, from street deals in South America to hazy nights in Europe, Rubman captures the thrill, the contradictions, and the unspoken rules of a culture that has quietly reshaped modern life.
What begins as a simple curiosity becomes a messy, hilarious, and deeply human chronicle of a global shift. Through notebook entries, candid encounters, and moments of both laughter and discomfort, Rubman explores the gray areas: the trafficking of happiness, the rituals of consumption, the productivity paradox, and the subtle ways cannabis has woven itself into the fabric of everyday civilization.
This isn’t a political argument or a moral lecture. It’s a lived‑from‑the‑inside portrait—equal parts entertaining and unsettling—of a world most people only glimpse in passing.
Wednesday, April 15, 2026
The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization new reviews....the real story
The Rise of Cannabis and the Decline in Civilization is less a conventional argument than a long, intimate memoir stitched from diary entries, street memories, travel stories, dispensary scenes, and afterthoughts about what cannabis has meant across one man’s life. Author Mitch Rubman moves from teenage initiation in Queens to Boston student years, New York hustles, Los Angeles smoke sessions, legal-era dispensaries, and the oddly mournful sociology of modern cannabis culture. The book keeps circling the same essential question, not with a thesis so much as with a shrugging, searching consciousness: as weed becomes normalized, commercialized, and everywhere, what exactly have we gained, and what have we lost?
What stayed with me most was the book’s candor. It isn’t polished into tidy self-explanation, and that turns out to be part of its force. Rubman is often funny in a way that feels accidental and therefore real, whether he’s rolling while driving on the Major Deegan, recalling the ashtray full of roaches in a borrowed Beverly Hills Mercedes, or chasing cheap shake with the desperate ingenuity of someone who knows both the ritual and the trap of habit. There’s a restless, talky, half-stoned music to the prose that sometimes spills over into repetition or rough phrasing, but even then I felt the pulse of an actual life on the page. The strongest passages have that scruffy memoirist magic where danger, absurdity, loneliness, and appetite all occupy the same sentence. The early robbery with Snake, the eerie New York encounter with the scar-faced dealer, and the Luxor detour into mysticism all give the book a bruised, wandering vitality I found hard to dismiss.
Rubman’s central premise about cannabis and civilizational decline is deliberately loose, almost provocatively so. When he lists “locked bathrooms,” hunger, expensive eggs, and mismatched weed-container lids beside “free joint Fridays” and planted trees, the effect is less analytical than diaristic, less argument than worldview. On one level, I wanted a sharper line of thought, more pressure on the title’s big claim. On another, I think the vagueness is revealing. The book becomes a record of how a person thinks while living inside a habit for decades, how economics, friendship, boredom, grief, appetite, and longing all get filtered through smoke. Its most interesting idea is not really that cannabis causes decline, but that the culture around it exposes the texture of a society, its loneliness, its opportunism, its flashes of tenderness, its little indignities, and its odd forms of fellowship.
I found this book oddly moving and unmistakably personal. What remains after the last page is the feeling of having spent time with a man who has made cannabis not just a habit but a lens, sometimes comic, sometimes sad, sometimes almost spiritual, through which he’s watched whole decades slide by. I’d recommend it to readers who like unruly memoirs, countercultural diaries, and books that value lived texture over formal neatness.















































