Sigh. Ok. Listen.
Your former youth pastor has smoked weed.
It’s fine, you guys. It’s totally fine. Making it legal would take all the clandestine energy away from its use and as a topic. It’s fine.
If more people smoked weed, maybe a lot of folks wouldn’t turn to racism and oppression as a pastime to feel better about themselves. It’s fine. Pot is fine. If you smoke it responsibly, you’ll be fine.
In fact, if I’m feeling like I want to do a violence on some guy who has it coming, weed helps me feel like “nah. Nah, I don’t need to do a violence. Nah. This is fine. I’m fine.”
And then I’m like, “man. It sure would be nice if there was ice cream. OH MAN WHAT I WOULD DO FOR SOME ICE CREAM!” And then, tickled by this though, I begin to make a list of things I would do in that moment for some ice cream.
Inevitably, violence is suggested by my brainstorming.
(To self) “yo would I do a violence for some ice cream?” I ponder, trying to see if there is a scenario in which I can make this be the answer. But then, there it is: no. Violence is not the answer. This great chill I have going is almost certainly the answer. What was the question again?
(To self) “yeah man, I don’t think I’d do a violence for some ice cream right now. Maybe let’s try just being really cute in a text message to Jenny.”
And sometimes that works. And sometimes there is ice creams.
But not violence.
Cartoons, yes. Feeling better and more human despite how fucked up the world is and how constant my stream of consciousness burns out on the subject and how deeply I explore in every dark thought; yes. Yes, I feel better in spite of those things.
But not violent.
YOU’RE violent, conservatives. YOU’RE violent, my own congressman who voted for a law that would kill me. YOU’RE violent, attorney general who was too racist to be a federal judge. YOU’RE violent, Trump voter who wants poors to eat shit. YOU’RE violent, dementia sex criminal president.
Marijuana users? They’re fine.