"Dude, Wait...What?"

     So, the 'Hempfesters' are gone; having crawled back into their mother's dens and left the city to it's regular number of unwashed slackers on the streets. 


     Seattle is a diverse and tolerant place, and I am one who prides himself on acceptance of others. That's completely false. I am intolerant of most human monkeys and the 'Hempfesters' are no exception. I was hoping the Juggalos would rise up and possibly wipe out the rest of the soap challenged, but alas, it was not to be. Maybe next year we could pay them in cigarette butts and malt liquor, to slaughter their own kind, riding in on their huge, white-trash girlfriends' backs, smashing the heads of their brethren with giant glass bongs. It would be a wonderful sight to see. But they would probably just trip over their own gigantic pants and ineptitude, leaving an even larger mess to clean up.


     There was another favorite creature in attendance this year. The 'I can't let it go' stoner. The fifty year old guy with the Maiden shirt and Geronimo choker, wondering how much it would be to touch-up his sweet wizard tattoo he got in '73. I realize your wife has left you, and your truck driving job has been less than fulfilling since you first set out on your journey from Dootson University. "Before, I could not spell truckdriver, now I are one." Yes, heady days indeed, and I'm sure your feeble attempt to grasp that twenty year old brass ring, will result in glories yet unknown to the common man. But your alkaline assault on our fashion sensibilities is inhumane. Please reconsider the message you are sending to the youth. Twenty years from now I don't want to be dodging the geriatric crowd, riding fixies, in skinny jeans and orthopedic Tom's, trying to make it to their optometrist appointment.


     I know intellectually, that there is a place in society for everyone. I just don't want that place next to me. I especially disdain the fact that because I reside in a place somewhat outside the box, that I sometimes get lumped in with the bongwater cologne crowd. 
     "Are you going to Hempfest?"
     "No, I have a job." 


     This doesn't mean that a day of bong-hits, beer and food vendors coupled with tons of questionably clad nineteen year old girls, doesn't sound amazing; I just don't want to have to crowd surf through the dregs of society to enjoy it. Eternal Salvation sounds pretty good too, but it ain't worth hanging around a bunch of Jehovah's Witnesses to get it.


     So, while I await an independent music/film festival that focuses on the beauty of public radio and the collecting of rare books, (and hopefully the food vendors and nineteen year olds.) I will quietly tolerate Hempfesters and the like, in hopes of a brighter tomorrow.