Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Drug Bust"

Damn kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the smokers? Did you ever wonder what made them tick, what forces shaped them, what may have molded them?

I am a pot smoker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

Damn underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. My friends were smoking weed… Wait a second, this isn’t so bad… It feels interesting. It expands my perception of reality. The people here are smiling. They’re thinking, not just sitting and being molded.

Damn kid. All he does is daydream. They're all alike.

And then it happened, a door opened to a world, rushing through my eyes and ears, and into my mind. "This is it, this is where I belong" I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

Damn kid. Hanging out with those shady potheads. They're all alike.

You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the lighter and the smoke, the beauty of the bud. We make use of a drug given to us, unrefined, by nature, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without hate, without callus judgment, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a stoner, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

All credits goes to Jhann

Written January 21, 2007