I Shot the Sheriff

Anyone who knows me probably knows me as someone who doesn't really get into a lot of New Age fads or trends. It's also well established fact that my favorite joke ever involves the incineration of other human beings. Would you like to hear it?

Q. What's yellow and red and looks good on a hippie?

A. Fire

Isn't that great? Anyway, so while I appreciate, even adore, the music that arose from the counterculture movement. I feel very few social ties to it. People with dreadlocks categorically make me uncomfortable. The last thing I'd want would be to be associated with a group of patchouli-smelling degenerates.

Recently a complication has arisen in this arena. Rebecca returned from her job training armed with a bevee of terrifying statistics regarding diet and how eating can kill you (like how eating a single butter scotch in your teens will give you advanced diabetes and make your balls rot off). As such we've made a few minor adjustments to our culinary regiment. My house is now running over with whole grain this and leafy green that. Luckily most of these things are food items closely related to things I liked before so the shift hasn't been too drastic. One thing that has started showing up in my cupboard is Granola. Filthy, stinking, hippie granola. What's worse, in a moment of weakness, I tried it. What's worse yet, in a moment of delicious revelation, I liked it. By itself it's fairly bland but when slaked with half a cup of sugar it's actually quite tasty. Even so, this is entirely too New Age of me. I've always subscribed to the Dennis Leary philosophy of diet. Wherein, red meat tastes like murder and murder tastes pretty fuckin' good. But I can already tell this vile amalgam of grains, raisins, and insect husks is working it's contemptible magic on me.

I've started listening to more Bob Marley for one. Which, in itself isn't' a bad thing, but I mean a lot of Bob Marley. Not only that, but the deeper meanings of his tunes have started affecting me in a visceral way. I tear up every time I hear "Get Up, Stand Up." While Rebecca is at work today I'll be replacing all our doors with bead curtains. I quit showering five days ago. I'm also seeking deeper truths in my search to find Jah. I just changed our wedding plans also, no longer are we getting married in a church. I found a field of poppies where we can stand barefoot and get hitched by a Hindi Yogi. We're getting Phish to play our reception. I'm legally changing my name to Cocoon because I'm a work in progress man. Someday I'll emerge from my mortal shell into something... eternal and groovy.

So next time you see me, I'll be the dreadlocked, patchouli-smelling degenerate.

-Kroy has gone offline


my mind can't clutch the feeling