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July 2001

Hairy Pothead and the Skull and Bones Club

By Stephen Simac

I almost didn't recognize him with a haircut and a shave. Last time I'd seen Harry Pothead the Forgetful Magician, he was trying to expose the secret conspiracy of the Alien Lizard Rulers of the World. He was convinced that they disguised themselves through breeding with a human bloodline. Their descendants, the Most Powerful Men on the Planet were meeting in the Bohemian Grove to Sacrifice Care to their Great Owl God.

We'd gotten jobs as dishwashers in the kitchen for the event, and on the big night Harry had dosed everybody in the Grove with magic mushroom pizzas. I ate way too many mushrooms that night and lost track of him. I hadn't really missed him for that matter.

He was way too sensitive, irritable and slightly vengeful like an Old Testament god. I'd already spent some time as a toad after questioning his conspiracy theories too closely. As he said, it was a good thing he doesn't hold a grudge, a short spell as an amphibian was a tolerable experience, if he hadn't forgotten the undoing spell. I would've gotten over it sooner except for the daily brutal workout/sweat scraping sessions.

I'd gone out to Bolinas to camp on the beach but it was illegal. I still expected to find some pot even though that was illegal, but the town was going through some kind of pot drought. Not only was there water rationing, but no marijuana was available period. The town's character had definitely changed.

Whoever said potheads were mellow, haven't seen them when they run out. It's a pitiful sight that can only be cured by abundant herb. One of the reasons I had ventured out to Bolinas, but there was no weed to be found.

I Smoked No Spliffs

Harry was livid about the pot drought, little thunderclouds were forming above his head as he ranted," The Witches Against Marijuana have killed the character of this town, there used to be smoke clouds up and down over all the sidewalks. Now there are just piles of dogshit. WAM turned in all the pot dealers, growers and as many stoners as they could find to the Wicked Witch of the East, Marin County's Top Cop.

We tried to recall that Witch but all the stoners forgot to vote and she won big. It went to her head and now she's decreed that all potheads in Marin get the death penalty. Mountain Bikers building illegal trails, too. Most people approved, felt like it was an appropriate punishment and a deterrent, the rest didn't disapprove when they had the chance.

It must have worked; everyone in town's been scared straight into the hard drugs, alcohol and tobacco. That's how I got my job selling them at the bar, it's booming, especially the hotel with this camping ban."

There'd been no room at the inn when I checked. "What about medical marijuana, surely you qualify to control your violent rages, Harry. That's been legal since 1996, why isn't there any medicine available?"

He snorted. "Thanks to the wicked witch of the East's guidelines for quantities of medical marijuana you're allowed in Marin that's been gone since Christmas.

This pot drought has been rough, showers I can live without, but try experiencing my teenage emotions after twenty-five years of pot smoking. It's horrible, now I remember why I wanted to blot it out. And the vivid dreams. It's a good thing my insomnia came back. I just surf the Internet all night long, nap before my shift. The only upside is I've been saving money, I finally could afford to move out of my van and into the Po House. "

Harry Pothead has his faults, but he is a good source on the latest and most far out conspiracy theories off the Internet. The theories are as farfetched as George Bush's missile defense plan but like the Europeans I was wary of questioning him for hard evidence. It's healthy to let your mind stretch and entertain far out notions.

Conspiracy Central

"É WACO and OKBOMB were the government run amok, AIDS and spraying chemtrails for population control, Alzheimer's and the mercury in our mouths, osteoporosis and the fluoride in our water, cancer and radioactivity in tobacco, heart disease and medical radiation, asthma and MTBE in our gas, JFK, RFK, MLK what do they have in common besides lone nuts?É " Harry was on a roll.

It's easy for me to drift off when other people are talking, try to catch the high notes and nod on time so he never noticed I was paying more attention to the topless women on the beach, but you'll have to ask him for details.

"The Skull and Bones Club at Yale, that's where the Bush clan got their presidential seal with Geronimo's skull. The Skull and Bones is the lifetime secret society three generations of Bush boys were invited to join, Skull and Bones members created the CIA. Their bumhole licking secret initiation rite got videotaped this year, I read about it on the Internet. Now don't give me that Pierre Salinger fake documents from the Internet look, TWA 800 was shot down, hundreds of witnesses saw it. Besides you write for the Coastal Post, where do you get off on credibility? "

Ouch, I'll admit because the paper is controversial and has a lot of typos that people don't take the CP seriously, they prefer only to believe the bland and polished news. "Well, they used to laugh at the National Inquirer too, but now the New York Times quotes it. I'm just here to relax anyways, this is a vacation, although it's not working out as planned."

Harry chuckled cynically and said "You probably think astronauts actually went to the moon, that George Bush, Senior really couldn't remember what he was doing in Dallas the day JFK was shot. The official explanations are all fairy tales for a gullible mass audience. It's all about secrets and who can keep secrets. Even when people talk they don't get publicity unless they agree with the official explanation, otherwise they are just plain crazy. "

I didn't point out the obvious that he was anything but Plain crazy. "Well why don't you do something about it, you're a magician you should be able to remember some of the spells you learned at the Hogwart School."

"Magic, Schmagic, those trix are for kids, for grownups nothing's more magical in this world than a million dollars. I 'm just a working man selling drugs to the tourists, living in the Working People's Po House; it's a step up the socioeconomic ladder from living in my van down by the river. Without pot I've learned to love the inherent economic advantages of capitalism."

He didn't look too happy however. Maybe it's true that days without dope are harder than those without money. Or just that ignorance is bliss.

 

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