Dear drug culture leach, you’re boring. Your fashion is boring, your music is boring, your arguments are stale, and you are your own worst enemy. Don’t get me wrong, I fully support what should be your right to do any drug you can afford to spend your parents’ hard earned money on, or whatever cash you can get from pawning that exercise bike that you stole from your neighbor. I’m just sick of the excuse making and the celebration of boring stupidity.
Marijuana is obviously not on par with other hardcore drugs in effect, but the subculture surrounding weed is more ludicrous than any other drug. My favorite character of this subculture is the college Rastafarian. The Rastafarian movement is a religious movement based around the worship of Jesus and Haile Selassie, the former Emperor of Ethiopia; because, yes, they are both incarnations of the god Jah. Followers of the movement commonly smoke weed to cleanse their soul. Scientologists are nuts but the Rastafarian movement makes perfect sense. The college Rastafarian is the kid who has found his or her identity by growing dreads, wearing all the Rasta gear, and smoking blunts between Reggae tracks. I would like to assume that the college Rastafarian doesn’t worship the former Emperor of Ethiopia because that just shows a lack of imagination from someone with a college education.
Granted, most weed people are not like this. However, I would say that most have their own domestic rituals like celebrating new pipes and bongs, and hanging out with people whom you would never ever hang out with in a million years . . . except to smoke weed.
Then there’s the really bad drug music. Not all musicians who use drugs are talentless. That would probably consist of every rock and rap musician on the planet. When I say drug music I mean music that glorifies the lifeless lifestyle. The short list of bands that should have never existed would be Bongzilla, Cypress Hill and The Grateful Dead. He’s not a musician but as an honorable mention, Hunter S. Thompson should be mentioned within any list of overrated artists who are popular among the pop druggie crowd.
On a different level, but in the same house, would be pill people. My cousin’s wife is currently missing the front row of her teeth because she had them pulled to get Hydrocodone. She’s 22-years old. And who cares, it’s all her problem . . . except for the fact that she has a 1-year-old child. Her family is filled with drunks and when not getting pills from the dentist and her grandmother, she gets them from a cancer patient who lives down the road.
And what’s the solution, rehab? A close friend of mine has been visiting a rehab clinic in Nashville twice a week for three years now. He goes and gets his dose of methadone and everything is fantastic: really, three years. But as he says, three years is nothing. One of his friends has been going to the place for 11 years. That’s not rehab, that’s living your life as a legal junkie.
I’ve had my small share of drugs and my dad has been swimming in the drug pool since well before I was born. I personally don’t understand how a person can live like that, and at this point I am less curious than I am completely and totally bored of boring people.
