Musings of a Pothead 1

Looking back on the latter half of my adolescence, I do feel a bit of shame regarding my pugnacious approach in expressing my dislike for religion and religious people. While I still hold many of the same views I held then, my previous arrogant perception of religious zealots as insecure beings clinging to a pitifully and painfully obvious empty ideal of hope just to attain some structure and sense of control in their life has been tweaked slightly.

As I see it, the only difference between a priest and a crack dealer now is a white collar and the likelihood of going to prison. One is responsible for the crusades, the other for inner city gang violence. At least drug related violence usually only affects the peddlers themselves, the same can’t be said for religion.

Life shits on everybody eventually regardless of age, sex, race, intellect, wit, creed or cup size. Fighting with each other over whether it’s better to seek solace in a pew, mosque, synagogue, flask or pipe does nothing more than add a couple more turds to the mix. Whatever gives us what we need to keep moving until we can’t move any longer is enough, really.

Not to be too cynical, but as most people realize when the novelty of bright colors and loud sounds fades away, one really does need to find one’s own happiness. All I’m saying is that that happiness comes in a variety of ideologies, narcotics and hallucinogens. Arguing over which one we pick is as futile and vapid as arguing over our preference of candy bars.

I realize this now and sincerely apologize if I offended any pious people by pissing all over your beliefs before. I hope now to only offend you by comparing you to drug addicts, your venerated leaders to dealers, and your beliefs and values to some stanky dank chronic. Welcome, be glad that at least your drug is cheaper and more legal than mine.

Peace