Stereotypes form around marijuana use


The criminalization of marijuana is rooted in racism, propaganda and the Drug Enforcement Agency’s manipulation of both to further the white man’s agenda. The continued persecution of cannabis users symbolizes the last gasp of a government studded with closed doors and sweeping generalizations about substances that alter the conscience. But beyond the historical statues of dissent forever looming over marijuana users like gargoyles bugged by the DEA are plumes of hope for a better tomorrow — or at least a more entertaining episode of “Family Guy.”

Humor me for a few paragraphs and reconsider the environment we live in, where crawling from one poisoned well to another is celebrated by hoards of young people drinking from last night’s puke pitchers.

For most K-State students, Aggieville provides a perfect stage for two (or more) sweaty strangers to meet and fall in love for an evening of chugging contests and suggestive winks exchanged over shots. It’s like they mistake the wafts of warming beer floating around as pheromones concocted by nature to attract a suitable mate every single weekend.

How many regurgitated beer nuts do you have to pick out of your teeth the next morning to realize that spending $40 to bump uglies with whatever is lying next to you in bed isn’t worth it?

I’m speaking from experience. I spent about three months in the greek world, striving to meet the heroic bar set for each pledge who wants to prove themselves by crawling with the best of them. After spending my first K-State football game withering under the sun and silently throwing up when no one was looking, I swore it would be my last. We’ve all made that promise to ourselves at some point, but I’m here to tell you that marijuana helped me keep that promise to myself. I’d be damned if I ever scraped a beer nut out of my teeth again.

Why am I ostracized from society and threatened with incarceration for preferring the noxious fumes of a burning bush to abusing my gag reflex with Jim Beam? You can research the historical implications I mentioned earlier on your own time; I’d suggest starting with the documentaries “Grass” and “SuperHigh Me,” which are both available at Digital Shelf. Both films do a great job at lining up the facts in plain, entertaining English, as I am doing here, but with the added benefit of celebrity spokesmen like bonehead Woody Harrelson and high-eyed Doug Benson.

And while I’m furiously typing this column in a dead-week manic panic, I’d like to give a shout out to all my ladies out there with overworked cannabinoid receptors (you know who you are if you know what I mean.) We’ve endured years of misinformed social stigma about pot smokers and brownie eaters, forced to ally ourselves with couches laden with male gamers who scratch and sniff their pajama pants more than an overheated thong on a Saturday night in Aggieville.

So yo ho ladies and gentlemen of the herb. Do not be ashamed of your personal taste in downers or your aversion to spending hours in heels tramping around town only to stumble home barefooted the next morning. The high of marijuana is far superior to how far one must stoop to accurately hurl into a toilet at Last Chance Saloon.

Whitney Hodgin is a senior in print journalism. Please send comments to