No More Lies

Lies kill.

You don’t think so?

“Terrorists.” — George Bush Jr.

“Public enemy number one…drug abusers.” Ronald Reagan

There are others.

“If we centralize the banks, then the market will stabilize.” — Banking Cartel

Yes, we are force fed lies at every level. I am not talking about when humanity hasn’t discovered something, or when well-informed people make a mistake. I am talking about those that willfully lie, and I am talking about those that remain willfully ignorant. People that have an opinion on something but haven’t even bothered to look into it. They just assume it’s not a problem, if it doesn’t effect them personally. Or, perhaps, they may even conclude that somehow the individual or group of individuals brought it on themselves, or somehow deserved to be murdered, abused, or homeless.

What happened to “treat others the way you wanted to be treated”?

The part that makes all this the most difficult is that these lines of reasoning do not come from my typical “lost” friends, but from supposed “Christ-fearing” people. Not all, but most.

This is troubling to me.

As a devout student of the Judeo-Christian Bible, and a student of philosophy and history, I see only one group of people that acted that way in the Scripture, and they were the Pharisees.

I don’t make this statement lightly.

I once was one. It breaks my heart to see it and admit it, but I walked like this for several years. Sure, I saw some good things come out of it, but I was just another Pharisee.

What does this have to do with lies?

I am glad you asked. The Pharisees believed the lie that by doing X, Y, Z or not doing X, Y, Z they were somehow being justified or sanctified by their efforts. The Pharisees added laws or rules that did not exist in the Scripture.

Sound familiar?

Religious conservatives in the Bible Belt are worst at this. I can say this, because I have lived in the Bible Belt most of my life, but I have spent a significant amount of time outside of it. I have learned that going around ramming my spiritual beliefs down everyone’s throat and insisting that I am right on every theological point that one can think of is actually counter-productive to true Gospel teaching.

Now, some of you may read this and go, “I don’t act like this.”

First, I would encourage you to introspect and maybe ask a close friend or loved one.

Second, it’s good if you do not act like that. Not everyone does.

Finally, even Pharisees can be redeemed. Paul was an excellent example of this. Not only did he convert, but he became more zealous for the impact of the Gospel.

I’m hungry for that. Who else is?

Wagen, over and out.

 

 

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Being 16

Turning 16 was awesome. In the week surrounding my birthday, I got a cell phone, an ’89 S-10, a driver’s license, and a job at AMC Theaters in Humble, Texas. I was “all the way up” and “nothing [could] stop me.”

It was also the year I tried alcohol. I liked it almost as much as I liked cannabis, I just hated the hangovers. There is no hangover with cannabis. If there is, it’s more tolerable than alcohol.

I had been using cannabis since I was 14. I supported my medical needs by mowing lawns. I also had enough to buy some video games, musical equipment, and skateboards…all of them were outlets growing up.

At 16, I ramped up my levels. Instead of buying a quarter or half-ounce at a time, I graduated to one to two ounces per transaction. I started to gain a reputation, especially among my peers.

One associate came to me and said, “Somebody came to me the other day and asked if I knew who had weed. I told them that you always had good quality weed, even when everyone else was dry.” Part of this was because I had local connections in Dayton, but if Dayton was dry, I had connections in Houston. Most of my peers didn’t.

It makes good sense.

When I would go into Houston, I used it as an opportunity to turn my Ebonics (gangsta slang of the impoverished areas) and Spanish up full blast. I knew some interesting people. Some flexed up, but I never really had any problems. Years later, I found out that they didn’t interact with many brave, middle-class white people, so I could get places that my white-racist, under-achieving, middle-class white people couldn’t. This was a HUGE advantage in the black market.

I didn’t “deal” in the traditional sense. No. Due to some critical thinking, I had other ideas. What I would do is go to my dealer and ask for low prices. I would pick up 2 ounces of top-shelf…I mean stuff that makes Colorado and California top-shelf look like dirt…for $65 dollars. Then, I would go to parties and get everyone high and discreetly share my connect with people I trusted.

I remember a few parties where I rolled some fat joints, and the joint would just take off through the crowd, one or two hits were enough to get most people “blowed” or really high. We called it “2-hitter-quitter” instead of “top-shelf.” The latter likely adopted from the alcohol industry.

I would have to pass 20, 30, 40 people and walk up to who was holding the joint and say, “Hey. Could you please hand the joint to me.” I didn’t care how old they were. I could care less if they thought they were tough because they played high school sports. Some would spark an attitude with me. I’d say something like, “That’s my weed your smoking. Hand it over so I can hit it a few times.” They would, and I would often give it back.

I’m not a monster.

Taking people’s cannabis virginity and lighting up a whole party was called, “killin it.” I would even say this to adults.

“What have you been doing today?” They’d ask.

“Killin it. What about you?” I’d respond.

I think some knew, but most did not.

Fun times.

“Donde esta la mota?” — Spanish

“Where da weed/kill/bud at?” — Ebonics

Wagen, over and out.

 

“Obsessed” with Weed #OpenYourEyes #TheyLive #YouDontFuckingKnowMe

I have received several critiques over the last year or two. One that particularly troubles me is that I am “obsessed” with weed, or that I am allowing it to destroy my life.

Now, I can understand how one could draw that conclusion just by taking a casual glance at my life. However, I am the only one that has attended all my doctor’s appointments, considered the different medical and therapeutic treatments, lived with the torture, and made an informed decision.

Guess what?

I have been doing this since I was little. I ask everybody lots of questions, especially doctors…especially when I have like 10 disorders.

Guess what?

I also read alot of books, on many topics — medical, historical, war strategies, languages, electronics, finances, religion, philosophy, and the list goes on. I am not saying I know everything, but I did my homework, and continue to do so, so don’t think you know more or better than me about my life. It’s not complicated. I wouldn’t pretend to know more about your life.

I just expect the same courtesy in return.

Living with all of these disorders is tough. Even as I write this, I wonder if it is “out-of-line” or “wildly appropriate.” Either way, I wrote it, and you can fucking deal with it.

Wagen, over and out.