You Have to Watch these Grandpas go to Disneyland
Old legends, each rocking a proud mustache and a loud Hawaiian shirt, piled into the minivan with pockets full of joints and enough gummies to make Winnie the Pooh float.
By noon they were spinning out on the teacups, lit up and laughing like it was 1974. Tourists thought they were just fun old dudes reliving their youth—not knowing they were zooted to the moon on MJ’s stash.
Then came the moment.
Behind the castle, Mickey himself rolled up—real cool, real chill—and Grandpa Sal offered him a joint like it was nothing. Mickey took it. No words. Just a nod, a puff, and the magic was sealed.
MJ’s stash? Gone.
The grandpas? Legends.
Mickey? Still coughing.
