Note: I’m reposting this at the request of an awesome blogging buddy. It originally ran Aug. 31, 2011.
Yeah, yeah, I’ll admit it. Once upon a time, I ran with a bunch of Hare Krishna monks. You know, the weirdos in orange robes who smell like Nag Champa harassing you to “donate” money for their religious books? The guys with shaved heads and odd pony tails? Those guys.
It all started when my buddy Hip (yes, short for Hippie) in Ft. Collins, Colorado got into the whole Krishna movement. Let’s just say Hip was (obviously) a big dope smoker who was fascinated with the occult and strange stuff in general. Great guy. Always a trip to hang with.
So he’d be preaching on and on about Krishna and his radical conquests in the Bhagavad Gita while I’d be knocking back a few 90 Shillings, when it occurred to me that I was partially interested in what he had to say.
“I’m headed to the Krishna temple tomorrow…
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