I hate marijuana smokers

I hate them with every fiber in my being. I hate them more than anything else in this world. I have more hate for them than anyone who has hate for something and I assume the rest of my Straight Edge brethren would sympathize with me.

Why do I hate them?

-They are breaking the law.
-They are using a substance that is more cancer-causing than tobacco and more harmful to the brain than alcohol.
-They make up bullshit lies about marijuana being a relatively safe substance and being useful for medicinal purposes despite the fact that there are tons of studies proving otherwise.
-They are influencing the mass media and our culture into condemning anyone who doesn't do drugs and glamourizing this poisonous deliriant of a drug.
-They verbally harass and condemn everyone who doesn't smoke weed.

I would also like to make clear that everyone who thinks weed should be legalized is a pot smoker. And I'm sure none of you Straight Edgers associate with anyone who smokes weed. Thanks for understanding where I'm coming from.

The disco. We go to disco. My body's sweaty from the MDMA inside it. I like to dance with you. You grab my ponytail. It is greasy with Germanic juices that I put inside my hair. Disco, we are the disco. I have a mesh shirt. My leather pants show off my sausage inside it. I grind your body, then we eat ecstasy and have Special K inside of the bathroom. It's a men's bathroom, but no one cares that you come inside because they know that inside it we do lots of drugs. And I will share them if the bouncer lets me go into the bathroom with you, and then we go home. We have efficient sex. And then I realize you're not that hot anymore because I've blown a load and I don't have ecstasy inside of my bloodstream. So I make sandwich. It has hazelnuts, bread, and some jelly that I got from the supermarket. It tastes pretty good, but it probably tastes better because my taste buds have ecstasy inside them. And then I go up to the bathroom, and you're wearing one of my shirts; that isn't cool. You didn't even ask. I met you earlier the evening; you're not my girlfriend, you're just girl that I have sex with. We probably won't do this again because I realize that your hair is frazzled and it probably has extensions. It's not your real hair, and that's kind of gross 'cause who knows where it came from.