Freedom

Freedom

What is so special about this brand of freedom you are pushing if there is no freedom to smoke weed?  Is it all wrapped up in the brand?  The brand with the sexy whistles and the bells?  Is it the freedom between Colgate and Crest, loose or tight jeans?  If so, I vote for both.  Why not have it all?  I know that branding has become the latest economic rage but doesn’t the iron hurt like hell when it burns the lowly flesh?

Is it the freedom to believe or disbelieve in the God that you claim looks a lot like you?  I already believe in a lot of crazy shit that I can’t see too clearly, like time and gravity.  I believe in James Brown.  I never needed permission for that.  What if God is not fat like you but skinny as a stray beam of light?  Or space?  Or invisible?  Then, what?  Then, who cares and why bother?

Is it the freedom to arrive at the party dressed as a corporation, gobble like a turkey, drink like a fish, and hit on the prettiest boys and girls with an obese wallet?  Is it the freedom to fall into a rut of your own, or their own, making, whoever they claim to be?   Or the awesome freedom ride to work each morning on the big blue bus without intervention from bandits and marauders?  If so, I must say, big fucking deal.

Is it the freedom to eat fresh dead meat, dress up or down in the style to which you and I have become accustomed, tend to my garden or my goldfish or my mutual funds?  Or is it the freedom to simultaneously put up and shut up, to wriggle like a worm on a hook, and drive a car on the right side of the road?  Again, what can a poor boy do but say, big fucking deal.  I’ve been to China lots of times where there is no right side of the road or left side of the road, where the roads have no lanes or white lines at all, where all sides of the so-called roads spill out all over the damn place, and they seem to be doing okay.  Of course, they can’t smoke weed either.  They spout a lot of shit about freedom there too, although no one really believes it.  That must mean something.

I know there is freedom to carry a gun, say lots of dirty words, and engage in anal sex in most municipalities.  And that’s cool.  But, I don’t want to shoot or be shot, especially in my ass.  Dirty words, I have observed, can speak and stand very well on their own dirty feet without help from you or me.

I remember that it used to be cool to smoke weed before it became so uncool, when Nancy Reagan came along in a chic red dress and just said no, just like that.  I don’t know what she was supposed to know.   Not much it appeared to me.  Maybe it was her training as an ingenue.  She was so skinny that all she had to do was pose and the crowds flipped.  Go figure.  I can’t.

I know that the freedom that I most enjoy is the one where I get to think my own stupid thoughts without interference.  Since my thoughts are so securely tucked inside of my head, I don’t think anyone can stop them no matter what.  I figure if I can’t, you can’t.  I’m not sure that counts as freedom but what the hell.  So, once again, why bother?

So, why not weed?  Why not here and now?  I’ve been smoking it for a very long time and I am absolutely certain that I have not hurt anyone yet, not even myself.  Especially not myself.

And I am equally certain I am not going to stop now.  And I know for another absolute fact that I am not alone.  I have made a lot of money while smoking weed and I have thrown a lot of it away and I am pretty sure I look and act a lot like the next guy.  I have waited in lines and used my blinkers.  Maybe, you too?

So what the fuck?  I think it is time to come out, come out, wherever you are.  Otherwise, how are you going to end up?  Why all the hiding so much of the time?  It’s not something shameful like when your dick is too small or your breath stinks.

All of you millionaires who smoke weed, come out.  Tell your story.  All of you unrepentant carnivores, emaciated models, and dweebs.  Closets are for moth balls.  All  of you overachievers with your x, y, and z factors and you underachievers who get by with guile and delusion.  Say it loud and say it proud.  You don’t have to be coy or cool about it.  I know a veterinarian who smokes weed and an orthodontist who smokes weed and neither man is very cool.  Neither main, in fact, will ever be cool and both of them are totally cool with that.

What about you?  Maybe you matter.  If not you, who?  If not now, when?  Let’s get going.  It’s already too late.  It’s been too late for a very long time.  You can even be fat.

 

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About marclevytoo

writer of fiction
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