"The Sickest Buddhist" WARNING: It wouldn't be rap/hip hop without casual profanity.
Girl: Hey, baby, where you at?
Arj: I'm still at the ashram.
Girl: How's it going?
Arj: It's going killer. The instructor just told us to do a 45-minute meditation.
Girl: Really?
Arj: I nailed it in 10! (Lyrics continued below).
Wisdom Quarterly (COMMENTARY)
LOL. Spot on, bravo, Arj Barker! The value of parody is that it allows us to hold a mirror up to ourselves and how we may be coming across to others. The only thing worse than being more enlightened than thou is being deluded about it. This is funny. It's more than funny. It's a remarkably clever indictment of pseudo-Buddhist doofus-hipsterism, which strikes a Zen pose while waving workshop tickets. 
Buddhist meditation retreats are usually voluntarily silent and celibate intensive periods of practice. Yet the song begins with a phone call. They aren't held at (Hindu) ashrams, but Western would-be yogis don't know, because we conflate all Eastern paths.
And, of course, it goes without saying that meditation -- which is done free of expectations or ambitions -- is not rushed. The longer, the better when there's nothing to "nail." The girl then uses the common expression "owned." But we thought she was saying "OM-!" (as in a Buddhist OMG! minus the God part), which propelled this song to the top of our iPod playlist. Every line is a gem, an inside joke, because it may just be talking about us.
*LYRICS (cont'd)
Girl: No way! Owned! / Arj: I'm the ill-est Buddhist you've ever seen / All the ladies want to meditate with me / I look so serene when I bust a lotus / But I don't have an ego, so I wouldn't even notice / I think of you before I think of myself / That's probably why people think I'm so chill / But still, I'm h*ll of intense / My clothes have little bells and they smell like incense / It's so dope when I focus on my breath / Because I floss all the time and I chew Big Red / I don't smoke weed, but I burn sage by the pound / Wave it all around till the air turns brown / I'm all krunked up on Kombucha and juice / Never heard of kama sutra? Let me introduce / Step into my hybrid, we'll go over to my bed / Sixty-four positions, I think you're going to like it! /
CHORUS: The sound of one hand clapping? F**k that, yo! / More like the sound of a one-legged standing O! / I'm blowing up the Dharma like what /Because I'm the sickest Buddhist, and I'm kicking Buddha butt!
I just went to the class for a laugh maybe meet some chicks / But as it comes to pass I kick *ss at this pacifist sh*t / Non-attachment? I just mastered it! / You don't believe me, you don't think I'm peaceful? / Step up to my face and say that, b*tch / I'll non-attach your teeth from your lips / I practice compassion towards friends and enemies / But all these m*th*rf**k*rs trying to hate on my serenity!
GIRLS: He's so spiritual / So un-material / Almost ethereal / Eat organic cereal / His aura is so bright / His chakra's oh so tight / His energy is light / His hair is so right / He's so sweet, a Buddhist hunk!
Is it my Indian roots, my Guatemalan pair of shoes, / My extensive collection of expensive Tibetan flutes? / I don't know how or why I'm so Zen / I make the Power of Now look like the power of then / To h*ll with Dr. Phil, Oprah, and Martha / I chill with Eckhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra, and Siddhartha / Buddha taught me to be humble and kind / But I'm so f**k*ng present I'm like ahead of my time / Enlightenment eludes most till they die / But I opened my third eye on my first try, why? / I don't know, I guess I'm just da bomb / When it comes to modesty, I got it going on! / CHORUS (repeat)
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