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In 1947 Jon Fasler of Tupelo, Mississippi in the USA was smoking a type of joint known as the Mississippi Marrow in the back room of a laundrette when the cloud of dope smoke began oscillating with the strumming of his guitar. Playing standard blues chords, he sang words taught to him by his Grandmother, a woman who had been taken from Ethiopia half a century before. The smoke condensed into Haile Selassie, who assumed human form by the fourth joint. So the patron saint of cannabis was born.
edit The Wonder Years
After a brief brush with politics, Haile toured the US preaching the benefits of chillin'. Although he received wide support from his core supporters, public sympathizers such as Martin Luther King and Richard Nixon had mixed feelings about Haile's message, which whilst it advocated
zero tolerance, also encouraged smoking massive quantities of cannabis. He was hailed as the Lion of Judah, this is a title misunderstood by most westerners and in a way is too grand for any human being alone to bear.
edit The Leap Years
Several years passed which Haile spent, in his own words, "fuckin' mashed". Then, in 1973, while recovering from a particularly bad case of flares, he felt a calling to Ethiopia, the land whose very rhythm had summoned him into life. On reaching his homeland he married an infant child, changing his name to Haile Gabre-Selassie. Haile went on to become a world renowned long-distance runner and has largely renounced his previous chillin' philosophy, advocating daily 50 km runs and ice baths instead.
edit Rastafari Time
It appeared that Haile Selassie's spiritual journey was over, but it was not to be, for, at some point in time, Benito Mussolini decided that it was time to take over the magical land of Ethiopia. Now, it was up to Selassie and his band of dystopian followers decided that it was time to create an entire religion dedicated solely to smoking dope and thinking Jesus was black. Enter Rastafarianism!!! However, Mussolini didn't like Haile Selassie's new spiritual movement, and took his supply of mari-jo-wanna away to a secret Nazi lair somewhere in Yugoslavia. Selassie now had nothing to live for, and once more, retreated to his cupboard.