Surely your parents warned you about being the town drunk. He smells bad, drinks warm Steel Reserve out of a paper bag, and yells at college kids whenever he’s conscious enough to yell. The town drunk is so obnoxious, loud, and stinky that no bar, fast food restaurant, or needle exchange will allow him inside, so he generally pisses either on himself or the walls of buildings. When the town drunk finishes watering the cement, he doesn’t put his whiskey dick away. He just looks around for some sort of female to make lewd comments towards while he touches himself.

You don’t want to be that guy, do you?

"The Republicans came up from Hell and stole everything the peaceful Natives had, but forbid marijuana, man."Oh sure, once or twice a week you or your friends act like the town drunk, but not every moment of your life. And get this: the town drunk sucks, but he’s not the worst out annoying person out there.

Kids, it’s time for a little reality check: Quit smoking so much weed. I’m not telling you to quit cold turkey, but just don’t smoke so much. Why do you ask?

Well, because you don’t want to become the town stoner, that’s why.

"No way, man. Dude. Bro. Marijuana is proven not to have any long-lasting mental defects on people. I’m serious dawg. I read that in the notes of a Cypress Hill album. You fucking square."

If you want to believe that, go for it. I’m all for taking hits from the bong, but I’m telling you, toke in moderation. If you don’t believe me, go to your local coffee shop. (Or Starbucks, where some town stoners will hang out because it’s convenient. Sure they’ll give you some bullshit about supporting local business, but that’s just to sound intelligent enough so they can attempt to swoon girls half their age.) So you’re in the pick-me up joint. Now find the guy with the long gray hair. Maybe it’s in a ponytail, maybe it’s just shaggy looking. He’s probably wearing a Christmas sweater in summer, but no matter what season it is, he’s got Birkenstocks on his feet, and that perma-grin is eternally on his face.

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Local hippie stoner playing the guitar
"Just let the weed carry you, man. I don’t even move my fingers."
You think, "Oh man, that just means that dude is happy and friendly, dawg." Yeah, you know who else has a perma-grin? The fucking Joker. He’s all smiles while he’s pulling off your fingers and feeding them to you.

Once you’ve found the town stoner, you don’t need to initiate a conversation. The town stoner has bored everybody in the county so he’ll walk right up to you and start blabbing. And he probably won’t stop until he refills his cup of joe for the thirteenth time. Then he’ll come back recharged, but he’ll just rehash the same stupid talking points.

The town stoner only has a few topics of interest:

  1. George W. Bush is the worst president and human being of all time.
  2. He once met somebody who met Jerry Garcia/Bob Marley/Gandhi (not the real one, Ben Kingsley).
  3. Republicans are all evil.
  4. That one time he went to Panama and smoked a lot of grass with the locals, who were so nice by the way.
  5. George W. Bush is a Republican, and therefore a terrible person.
  6. The world is a beautiful place with beautiful people.
  7. Every Republican knows he’s wrong, and eventually will convert to Liberalism.
  8. Labels are harsh, man.

You may be confused by some of these things. Usually you and your friends smoke a blunt and talk about space, Kanye West, or ninja rappers from another planet. This guy talks about serious political shit but makes about as much sense as Bill O’Reilly.

You’ll also notice he touches your hands, shoulder, or face—whether you’re a boy or a girl. He believes in the "oneness of the universe." Which apparently means awkwardly groping you. At least the town drunk will just barf on your shoes and leave.

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He’ll claim to "just get by" as an artist. But if you’re a 60-year-old sculptor, you’re either a bagboy at the grocery store or lucky enough to have wealthy parents that still give you an allowance. He could also be receiving disability for crippling ailments such as nervous headaches, snake-o-phobia, or really-really-really mild glaucoma.

Of course, he self-medicates by "toking on the herb, man. It has true healing powers. The Native American Indians knew that, but the Republicans came up from Hell and stole everything the peaceful Natives had, but forbid marijuana, man. Because the Republicans just want to control everything, even though, their precious Bible, man, says God gave all the plants and herbs and weeds and grass and doobies for us, the people of the world to use."

Finally, you’ve survived and there’s that awkward moment when you shake somebody’s hand, but you don’t know what that person is going to do. Is it the hand-slap, then fist-pound? The over-the-top arm wrestle move into man-hug? Nope. He’s going to hold your hands, bow, then say "namaste." If you’re a girl, he may try to kiss you, then he’ll say, "Kissing isn’t sexual. George W. Bush has made us all so afraid to actually touch each other. It’s just leftover Puritan thinking. Everybody should just love each other. Especially you and me. But the Republicans should take a chill pill and leave forever. They’re not wanted here."

There you have it. By no means am I telling you to stop getting high completely. How the hell would you chill out, manage to eat a pound of Mike & Ikes, and laugh at Teen Wolf? I’m just asking you to quit smoking so much weed. Because if you don’t, you’ll turn into a really annoying guy who bases his arguments on the bumper stickers he sees on Subarus.

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