I Hate Hippies

So, it's all well and good to say you hate hippies. It's like taking on Nazis, Commies, or Bush II. It's like drowning a crippled newborn puppy. But the thing of it is, you people don't have to live in a city run by hippies. I do. And it sux0r. Some examples:

1. Pot laws. So, it's pretty much totally legal to toke up wherever and whenever you want here in The City. I see bike messengers spark up IN FRONT OF cops. No one cares. Naturally, YOU think this is awesome, and envision the great parties you and your friends with throw, with giant Bob Marley spliffs stuffed with the finest hydroponic being passed back and forth while everyone has a few drinks and a very good time. What you're not thinking about is the fact that the stripper who lives on the third floor of your building will light up when she comes home from work (2:30 a.m.) and turn the lightwell that your bathroom window opens up on into a giant smoke chamber. You, who has a normal job, left the bathroom window open in order to get a breeze through your bedroom, and now you awaken to the smell of Mexican Ditchweed, and need to get your tired ass up, close the window, stumble back to bed, and pass back out. Oh, and all those jobs that you and your friends joked would be pretty bearable if only you could do it stoned? Yeah, everyone who has that job in The City DOES IT stoned. And, while it may be fun to BE the stoned waiter, stoned barrista, stoned Best Buy clerk, etc., it turns out that it is NOT fun to DEAL WITH the stoned waiter, barrista, etc.

2. Street Shitting. People in The City constantly remind you: "it's not illegal to be homeless." They are not amused when you reply "not yet, anyway." Even absent a significant shift in the law, the fact remains that while the status of homelessness is not itself a crime, shitting on my doorstep is a crime, breaking the light over my door so that you can sleep there without being bother by the light is a crime, and breaking your 40 oz. Steel Reserve bottle in front of my breezeway door is a crime. You can spot denizens of cities run by hippies because they have the most mundane vigilante fantasies imaginable. They dream of donning all black, and smashing the hands of graffiti artists with baseball bats. Of making drunk hipsters clean up the pee they just splashed on your garage door----using their tongues. Of making the hobo carry the crap he so carefully laid at your doorstep the extra 5 feet over to the curb, where it won't really bother anyone----also using their tongue. Of picking up the dog poop that douchnozzle decided he didn't need to pick up, and then rubbing it into his face and neck. Then putting a plastic doggy bag over his head, knotting the neck shut, and punching him in the nose. These are the crimes that vex us.

3. Involuntary racism. Admittedly, I think this is less a hippies-run-the-city thing, and maybe more specific to The City itself. But I think The City is actually TRYING TO MAKE ME RACIST. For example, every time I see a Honda Accord driving 45 MPH in the left-hand lane of the freeway, with the left blinker on, I say a little prayer (as soon as I get done swearing and hoping for the driver's death): "Please don't let this be an Asian woman please don't let this be an Asian woman, God, dear God, I'm trying so hard, just meet me halfway and don't let this be an Asian woman." I scarcely need to tell you how the story always ends, except to say that, contrary to her promise, it didn't last long time. And I don't think she really loved me, I think it was just a ploy to get my $5. Every time I see a mid-80s conversion van that comes to a complete stop at every stop sign and always signals its turns, I beg with Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that the van NOT be loaded with 47 Mexicans. I have yet to have that prayer answered. (Maybe, as the late George Carlin suggested, I should start praying to Joe Pesci.)

That's about all I got.

For now.