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A Luxury Condominium of Your Ow
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Religion? There ain't nofucking
religion.
-Written on the back of a jean
jacket at Saturday's Hash Bash.
Weeeeeell, now, that all depends
on your definition of religion,
dunnit? Way I see it, it doesn't take
stained glass, creation myths, or
large male deities with magic fingers
in order to have a Way and the Life,
a panacea, a means for everyone to
achieve true fulfillment and
happiness if they'd just do exactly
what you do.
No, "Religion is the opiate of the
masses," Karl Marx said, and
conversely opiates are their religion
- even if said opiate is in this case
pot rather than poppy. And on the
Diag last Saturday, church was in
session - with the full compliment
of benedictions, Zaccheuses
climbing trees for a better look, and
(of course) sacrificial fires ablaze.
And what many a good church
leader can tell you is the best part of
the service - the collection plate.
"You! You, sir!" he called to me
as I walked onto the Diag
approaching noon. His look eager
and hungry, he beckoned to me.
There was a box at his feet. Charity?
Well, appropriate enough. Hadn't
they advertised the Bash with fliers
crying "End racism, sexism, and
censorship!" "Stop the war in El
Salvador" (The government of El
Salvador, see, has oppressed its
people through violence, like many
right-wing Latin American outfits.
Such groups are often funded by
covert and overt U.S. aid, as well as
by drug smugg - but anyway...)
Or maybe it was a collection for
NORML, attempting to do through
fundraising and populism what
corporate bucks and paid-for senators
have done for the alcohol and
tobacco industry. In any case, a
worthwhile cause - possibly - so
I dug into my pocket for change.
"Hash Bash T-shirts. Dick Nixon.
Four colors. Designed it myself," he
said.
So that's what was in the box -
a stack of silkscreened 37th
presidents complete with ganj and
Hash Bash slogan. I pulled my hand
out of my pocket. "Haven't got the
money," I lied.
I came upon a Child of God, and
he was sellin' T-shirts. Welcome to
BashCorp.
What I saw when I walked onto
the Diag was even more affecting.
Historical festivals are pretty
common in small towns. A few
local history buffs or out-of-towners
dress up in period garb while a lot of
other people stand around slack-
jawed and watch recreations of what
Po JIM
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it was like to live on the frontier or
fight in the Revolutionary War -
minus the smallpox and bayonet
wounds, of course. Here, likewise,
was our chance to witness authentic
live hippies, or at least spectacular
reproductions. Turn on, tune in, then
go study for finals.
So they crowded around the folk
singer, standing on the bench in full-
color detail, from the floppy hat to
the bargain-basement acoustic guitar,
right on down to the jeans that were
more patch than denim. "The
Revolution will come," he sang.
Something about Mother Nature and
Mythology. I mean, this was the
real thing! Wasn't it...?
"Look at the faces in the
marketplaces/ Do they know the
name of the beast they serve?"
Well, the faces on the Diag found
out soon enough, once the noon
hour rolled past and the speeches
began. The Name of the Beast was
them. They wanted to take away our
pot.They wanted to take away our
freedom. They - and I am not
making this up - were "going to
set up camps like Hitler, like
Auschwitz, and gas people."
But their attitudes would have to
change. They were full of hate (of
course, whoever they were, we didn't
seem too loving toward them either).
But pot would make it better. "No
more fussing and fighting." Give us
enough pot, and we'll love
everybody. Give me enough ketchup
and I'll eat anything.
Amid the speechmaking, someone
was handing out copies of Consider
magazine. The topic was - guess
what - pot laws. The Consider guy
was trying to explain the concept to
a Basher. "This is the Hash Bash,"
he said. "It's a protest. To legalize
marijuana. Marijuana, you know...."
Oh, so this was a protest. Well, at
least for the High Times people and
the NORML people and the out-of-
towners making the rounds of the
legalization bashes. And high atop
the steps of the Grad, where they
spoke, it sure looked like one. But
from the ground of the Diag, it
looked like a party. Which was true?
You tell me. But I do know the
loudest cheers came when somebody
threw the crowd free joints.
Ann Arbor is an ageing child star.
Lavished in the '60s with more
attention than a town its size can
safely handle without neurosis, it's
now a college town once again, with
cookie stores and sports teams -
and an awkward legacy. Tom Hayden
is gone and he took the TV cameras
with him.
So once every year or so, it gets a
little misty-eyed. It goes into the
attic, opens the trunk, dusts off its
MC5 albums, reads through its
newspaper clippings, and calls up a
few old friends to come over, get
wasted, and talk about how great we
was then. They call it the Hash
Bash. It rhymes.
Several hundred of the neighbor's
kids usually crash the party to catch
some rays, hang out, and get stoned
with the old folks who'll hopefully
feel nostalgic and warm-hearted
enough to give out free samples.
They play Hacky-Sack and throw
Frisbees. They listen to some
music. They smoke some pot. They
have fun. There are worse things in
the world.
But save the "Youth Movement"
talk for the Detroit Free Press. The
only revolution going on on
Saturday was that of the hands of a
Swatch. Ironically, it was the one
revolution the whole business was
trying to stop.
171.
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Twenty-one
April 7, 1968
VE KE1~0
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Nothing is real. Really, it's nothing.
(Found outside Philosophy
Dept. office)
A P~t 1~OaP WE-NKP1(AS IN 14 Y"A( 2000:
w(TI N~ VIfo.-.... AFTER .. ...ANOTHER..
pl BtRr tWftTL E L~NAT
15wA T0LE
and much more
J
0
English 356 students
on the Diag 12:00..
unite! Protest
Years ago...
"Chicago (AP) - Federal troops arrived in riot-torn Chicago last night
where Illinois National Guardsmen and police battled snipers and looters
for the second straight night.
"President Johnson ordered 5,000 regular Army troops to the city...
"...Police sent squads armed "with shotguns and carbines to the scene of a
fire on the South Side. Heavy sniper fire pinned down police and firemen
attempting to extinguish the blaze in a furniture store."
Thirty-nine Years ago...
April 7, 1950
"Free use of Ferry and Palmer Field tennis courts was granted to students
and faculty last night.
"Hotly opposed court-fees were lifted [by] the Board in Control of
Intercollegiate Athletics...
"The system calling for a 25 cent per hour fee had been a controversial
issue since 1948."
Items in the Weekend Almanac are culled from past issues of the Daily on
this date in history. All articles are taken from Daily files which are open
to public review in the Daily's library.
(A mock dialogue)
-Hey, wasn't Saturday night
awesome man?
-Yeah, kickass.
-Did you go crazy on South U like
the rest of us?
-Definitely. Dude I busted three car
windows.
-Cool. I only broke two. But I
pushed over a lot of people and
stepped on this girl's wrist.
-You going to Ricks tonight?
-Definitely. Cheap pitchers rule. I'm
so broke, you know?
-Driving?
-Can't. I lent my BMW to my
buddy. He's going to a formal.
-Bogus.
-You going?
-Yeah, but I got a Poli Sci paper due
tomorrow. Man, life is rough as
hell, you know?
-Yeah. Shit.
-Angell Hall
IT' WA5INALLY STOPPED.
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ARM 4Ct Ii4 %W ROYMUMAING 'THE UrSORM
Cglo tOiN CF Meg. CI.AMING "ADO#4 PJGIW MY..
-A Great Location! 1 block from campus with
stores, restaurants and entertainment at
your doorstep.
~A plush lobby with the security of a 24 hr
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the football stadium and the city
~On site management and maintenance to
serve you 24 hrs a day, every day.
,Maximumsoundproofing providing
privacy and quiet and your own personal
mreom
TOWER PLAZA CONDOMINIM
" Above the Rest in College Housing"
555 East William
Ann Arbor
663-1530
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PAGE 12 WEEKEND/ APRIL 7,1989