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Bullying The Disabled before/after Years ago, when I worked at the ice cream plant and spent my time getting high, after work I would take the same route home, the only one, really, and I would pass a certain house. This house had a large front porch. It was made of treated lumber, and resembled a deck, more than anything. It was replete with a ramp and everything. The home of the disabled guy. And every summer, as I got off from a long day of getting high and making ice cream (yes, it approached a psychopathological sort of nirvana--regardless, it does strike me as one of the few times in life I was undeniably happy. I had a job, I had a girl, I had fun, a beginning, and end, knew exactly what I was doing, good at the job, knew what direction I was going supposedly...heavy pot smoker finding candy-land and being able to frolic and fornicate, being a man-child.) I would pass this house, and on the deck/porch sat the disabled man. Old guy. Paralyzed somehow, but not totally. He looked like he could care for himself somewhat. I thought about it. He could improve his life. And I knew exactly how. So I took to shouting, "Smoke weeeeeeeeeeeed!" every day after work when I drove by. Day after day after day. "Smoke weeeeeeeeed!" Next day. "Smoke weeeeeeeeeed!" Next day. "Smoke weeeeeeeeeed!" And so on. I think he recognized me, because he waved a few times. And I thought about it. Maybe I was passing judgement on him. Maybe he loved life. Maybe he was a jolly fuckin' guy, in love with life, and maybe I was missing the boat, and being a total prick about it, casting judgement. It wasnt so much that I was yelling something at him. I think he liked it. Broke up his day, maybe. Or something. After all, he waved. That's a good sign. But maybe, in effect, what I was saying was, 'Your life sucks, smoke weed, you've got nothing to lose,' or so he may perceive, when really I was saying something like that, but mainly I was saying something like, 'Sitting on your porch day after day in the sun would be much better with a buzz on, dude.' Again, also, at the time, when you have a constant high-on, you kinda' suspect everyone does, and you regard those that dont with suspicion. Then again, many, many people have many, many different kind of bags going. Its not as far out an assumption as it sounds. Anyways. I didnt want to judge him. And exactly what place did I have any right to judge him? Christ, I could be making him feel bad. And who's to say that I even had a better grasp on things than he did? Maybe with all that happened he had peace and was finally all centered, and I was disturbing him? Still, I kept waiting for the one day he'd wave a dubee at me and puff it as I drove by. Yeah, I was smoking THAT much dope that this thought made sense. But I didnt want to make him feel bad. And I certainly didn't want to judge his existance. (Of course, most likely, he had no idea what I was saying, maybe thinking, in fact, that I was kust the crazy kid that drove by his house howling at him everyday.) So I quit shouting at him. He still waved every once in a while. I waved back. But then I stopped looking. I felt weird about it all. Did we become a strange sort of friends? Or am I really just a bully of the disabled, pushing them towards illicit drug use? Does he think I'm judging him somehow? I dont want to judge anyone. Not on those terms, anyway. Smoke weed. Dont smoke weed. I dont judge you, man. I passed by that house yesterday. Didnt see the guy. Whatever he's doing, I hope he's happy. Shit, he's probably dead.
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