I have a nug to pick with misconceptions.

While I appreciate the ineptitude of those trying to detect my bloodshot eyes, hidden from view in critical times during class following the afternoon’s smoke sesh, I can’t stand the complete hilarity that ensues after witnessing their blatantly bullshit attempts at stereotyping the habitual life I’ve come to love.

For those of you who don’t get it, like those of you who only read newspaper headlines and neglect to continue reading further, I recommend skimming this a little longer than your average jaunt through Gossip Land. Hey, at least you’ll be able to concentrate on something other than the sweat stains on your professor’s shirt during this Friday’s class. Maybe you’ll even have time to learn a trick or two from me about the trade.

Now, my buddies and I have no problem with being classified as stoners by any conscious member of society, but it is a different story when we’re labeled as malicious gatekeepers to the chasms of Hell or disturbers of the peace in this Shire of Isla Vista.

Recently, I haven’t been able to get over the countless times I’ve heard that some freshman was stoned last week in the dorms and struck a cop when they tried to arrest him for assaulting other residents. Wait, hold the bong – are you serious? I’m usually sitting on a corn flake with John Lennon and contemplating my existence when the heirs to the Lorax begin to fill my lungs – I’m not barricading doorways or swinging a left on the 50. So why are you comparing my amigos and me to an unfortunate student who was obviously being affected by other causes?

We stoners are resourceful, imaginative, creative, artistic and adventurous people. We don’t hit cops – yeah, I’m serious, read the police report if you want – and we definitely don’t go out of our way to assault other people. We use our grinders for masterful works of herbal creation. We use our lighters for igniting ourselves into other realms with Granddaddy purps. We use our silverware for vaporizing knife hits and our stems for a drop in our cheapest bottle of vodka.

I’ve treated bongs better than pets – spent more energy cleaning Cain and Abel than I can weigh out. I’ve dedicated more of my paycheck to this cause that keeps me tripping than I can account for. I’ve devoted more effort to blowing smoke rings than Gandalf ever imagined any man could. I’ll be spending more time tomorrow studying technique at NORML’s Joint Rolling Competition or next November at Cannabis Cup in Amsterdam than I will be studying my lecture notes throughout the rest of my college life. Up in smoke maybe, but at least I’m not setting anyone else on fire.

Some of you like coffee – you’re probably drinking it right now. Others of you like chocolate; don’t be shy, pull that Snickers out of your backpack and take a bite. Personally, I enjoy other methods of attaining my fix, but I still reach for it every once in a while just like you. You’d be pissed if someone came up to you while you were taking a sip of that Java Jones and knocked it from your lips. You’d also be fuming if they attributed every discarded coffee cup lying in the streets of Isla Vista to you coffee bingers.

So, is it fair that we are to be held accountable for the actions that occurred in unrelated incidents thanks to the stupid souls who can’t mentally transcend the diversities of opposing cultures? As much as you love your freedom, don’t deny that some of you attributed the student’s actions to weed.

But ganja doesn’t do that, plain and simple, so if you see some tall creepy guy walking down the street with a shirt that says “Guns Don’t Kill People, People Do,” think about it. But think not whether you might have stepped into a taping of “Happy Gilmore;” instead question whether it is the weed or the mind that controls an individual and their actions in life.

Daily Nexus Opinion Editor Jeff Gibson blockades his doorway with hanging beads and marijuana seeds.