I don't really bind my ego to these sorts of labels and things (or at least I try not to). Someone might call me a radish, but that doesn't say much about me as it speaks volumes about the other. I often cringe at how quickly people are to categorize, group, and label themselves and others now a days--and often without full grasp of context or probing effort at understanding the other. I mean, I like a pipe, but not because of the object or the material smoke, but because of the pleasure and effects of the smoke. It's a drug, a very mild and pleasing one, but a drug at that. The associated materials are really accessories in the most superficial sense of the word, like high-heels or a red sports car. They ain't screaming profundity.