Savages Read Online Free PDF Page B

the word of mouth got around. Whatever it was you wanted to feel or not feel, Ben and Chon had dope for you.
    One, then five, then ten, then thirty grow houses, all producing primo 420.
    They became almost cultlike figures.
    There developed such a devoted following with such a religious loyalty that they even gave themselves a name.
    The Church of the Lighter Day Saints.

23
     
    When it comes to the War On Drugs, Ben is a confirmed pacifist.
    An Unconscientious Objector.
    He simply refuses to participate.
    “It takes two to fight,” he says, “and I’m not fighting.”
    Anyway, he doesn’t believe that there is a War on Drugs.
    “There is a War On Drugs Likely To Be Produced And/Or Consumed By People Of Color,” Ben allows.
    White Drugs—alcohol, tobacco, pharmaceuticals—deal enough of those, you can overnight in the Lincoln bedroom. Black Drugs, Brown Drugs, Yellow Drugs—heroin, crack, boo—you get caught, you wake up every morning in your cell.
    Chon disagrees. He doesn’t think it’s so much a racial thing as aFreudian thing. He thinks it has to do with anal/genital shame.
    “It’s about hemispheres,” Chon says one fine California day, standing on Ben’s deck sucking on a spliff. “Look at a globe, now analogize it to a human body. The northern hemisphere is like the head, the brain, the center of intellectual, philosophical, superego activity. The southern hemisphere is down there near the groin and the anus, where we do all those dirty, shameful, pleasurable id things. Where are most of your illicit—dig the word, B, “illicit”—drugs produced? In that nasty dick, vagina, and asshole southern hemisphere.”
    “But where,” Ben posits, “are most of those same drugs consumed? In your brainy, moral, superego region.”
    “Exactly,” Chon answers. “That’s why we need the drugs.”
    Ben ponders this for a loooooonnng time, then
    “So,” he says, “you’re saying that if we all took good shits and fucked a lot, there would be no drug abuse.”
    “And,” Chon adds, “no more war.”
    “We’d both be out of work.”
    “Okay.”
    They laughed for a long time.

24
     
    Stan and Diane never asked, never ask how their boy got so rich. That, they don’t question or try to analyze. They don’t do the financial forensics on how a twenty-five-year-old buys a four-million-dollar crib at Table Rock.
    They’re proud of him.
    Not for
that
, for his social consciousness.
    His social conscience.
    And conscientiousness.
    His Third World activism.

25
     
    Which explains (sort of) where Ben is now.
    Okay, Chon doesn’t know exactly where Ben is now, which, with severed heads bouncing around the blogosphere, worries him a little, but—
    —the boy does have a tendency to take care of other people’s business instead of his own. Ben has what they call a social conscience. Very aware, progressive dude. Chon likes that about him,
but
—
    —bro tends to houdini for months at a time, saving some group of people from something. Wells to prevent cholera in the Sudan, mosquito nets to save kids in Zambia from malaria, observation teams to keep the army from slaughtering the Karen in Myan-myan-myan-mar.
    Ben spreads his wealth.
    Call it what you want
    The Ben Foundation.
    The Hydro Institute.
    Dope Delivers
    Green Is Green
    Chon tries to tell him just send the money, let the cash fingers do the walking, stay and take care of business, but Ben is a hands-on kind of guy. Money isn’t enough, he says, you have to commit your heart, soul, and body. Ben puts his money where his mouth is but also his mouth where his money is, so
—every few months he washes back up at Table Rock with
dysentery—
—malaria and/or—
    —Third World Heartbreak—
(with which Chon is familiar)
    —and Chon and O take him down to the best doctors at Scripps and then get him well until he finds another cause and then it’s—
Gonzo again.
Off to rescue kids with tiny arms, big eyes, and
    swollen stomachs.
    Now Chon tells