Happy Four & Twenty?
This is the first time in many, many years that I haven't taken 4/20 off as a certified and approved vacation day. This had been intially a very fun way to horribly shock and offend every possible human being on earth (with the exception of those idiotic skinhead fuckers) by stating that I take the time off to celebrate Hitlers birthday. This practiced was stopped a number of years back, because I found a better excuse to take time of during this particular week (bring your kid to work day, just for starters) and I also managed to deeply offend and scare off the one and currently only shot I had a dating a super hot jewish girl.
But as always, I digress...
This particular celebration started out simply enough. Back in the day when I still had a subscription to High Times, my friends and I stumbled upon an article attempting to trace back this particular celebratory excuse to its roots. Based on the simple fact that this specific publication is about all things marijuana there was, of course, no resolution as to how this day of days came about. Not that any of my crew gave two shits about how it started, we were more concerned with how to celebrate it properly. Time off was procured, supplies were gathered and the festivities began.
There have been dirt weed 4/20's (the horrible stuff that is the color of dirt and comes commerically smuggled and packaged in 'bricks' across the mexican border) and KB 4/20's (kind bud; anything from locally homegrown hydroponics, to imports from northen california, oregon, washington, colorado and exotic blends from as far away as Canda and the Carolinas that we here are forced to purchase by the gram). We have managed to scrounge up hashish based 4/20's (a sort of processed 'tar' that is bascially distilled and dried and is pure THC; and depending on the quality can either A - come in a ball or brick and B - can be a wide range of consistency from sticky to crumbly like a cracker) and even one or two where opium was introduced (unprocessed opium looks a lot like hash or for a better point of reference, sort of like a crack rock, but jet black and doesn't burn nearly as well). And all of these events have been supplemented with lots of beer, tons of food and occasionally a few prescpicption narcotics thrown in for good measure. If by now you are unable to grasp a mental picture of the state of mind these celebrations put us in, keep in mind we usually start as early as possible (uusally around 10AM in the morning) and don't stop unil 4:20 pm. This year, is the second year running where I have NOT taken time off for this event. You may find yourself asking, dearest of diary, "why a stupendous professional stoner such as yourself would miss such an event ?"
I'm a bit paranoid (feign suprise on my behalf, if you please) and based on events that transpired on these days, I am a bit gun shy about taking time off, getting loaded up on drugs and then having the brutish realities of society unloaded on me through the flickering box that beams cable TV directly into my home. In plain english: I'm tired of having my mellow harshed and my high wrecked by reality.
I watched the aftermath of Oklahoma city from my buddy's couch with a bong in my lap. While the image of the firefighter carrying the dead baby from the rubble was plastered upon the screen and smoke filled the entire city, we sat in a haze of our own discussing the finer points of what would drive someone to do such a thing. I correcly offerred up a haphazard guess at the time and stated that it had to be someone who was X-military that was probably pissed off at the government (I incorrectly stated he would be a militia member). The still shot of that limp corpse and the anguished looks of those surronding the emergency worker as he emerged from the rubble still haunt me.
I sat transfixed in the man-made darkness of another apartment and watched CNN for 6 straight hours as the production crew switched from angle after angle of the Branch Davidian compound. I paused about every hour to take my turn in the playstation tournament we had setup, but after each game I was drawn back to the big easy chair and randomly puffed on pipes filled with opium and watched David Koresh take on Janet Reno and the ATF. I don't actually recall if anything happened on that day or not (gimme a break, I'm lucky I can remember anything from these days), but couldn't help marvel at how much of a cluster fuck the standoff in Waco had become and it still bugs me that the ominous premonitions I had that his whole thing would end very badly, were more of a prophecy thatn just a "bad feeling."
The one that struck closest to home, was of course Columbine. Jerry Springer was unceremoniously interupted as the first flashes of the story started trickling out from locally based news affiliates. Once it got out that the shooters inside were probably students, I began to laugh. My friends were totally shocked that I was giggling and laughing like some sort of drugged up lunatic (no comments, please) and managed to pump me full of enough hashish so that I would explain myself...
"Son of a fucking bitch!", I finally exclaimed to the dazed faces around me. With a maniacal twinkle of understanding in my eyes I continued, "Don't you see? Don't any of you see? Whoever these kids are, I gurantee you they are dorks and outcasts; losers, spazzes, nerds. I promise, these kids are the downtrodden, passed over and daily tormented and socially rejected by their peers. These are the kids that I was in high school. There hasn't even been any confirmation of who these kids are, but I can definitely without a doubt say, that this is the who and the why." I can't even begin to explain how horrified my friends were that not only was I right, but that this sort of tragedy didn't strike even a slight chord of regret or sadness from me.
These kids were me in high school and I would be a terrible liar if I didn't admit to having one or two basketball diary type shooting sprees of my own. The difference between my generation and these crazy kids from Colorado, is that the youth of amerika finally reached it's breaking point; mine never did.
I'm thinking, when I started this ramble that I had some sort of point I was trying to make...
Drugs are bad and they fuck up your memory?
Television has desensitized amerikans and had a heavy hand in fucking up the youth of amerika?
Or mabye it was that bad things happen on 4/20, so I'm not going to waste my drugs or vacation time just so I can force fate and get stuck watching it live on TV.
...
Wait I remember now! Drugs are bad and they fuck up your memory...that was it...wasn't it?
...
d'oh. Oh well, happy 420 anyway!
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