Archive for August, 2013


My Toe Back in a Puddle of LSD part 2


I would have no trouble recalling dozens of stories involving my use/abuse of LSD; that first trip taking blotter acid so latent with strychnine it caused me to vomit blood and stomach lining…but that was then, and this is now. The potency of the drug I took for my weekend was mild by comparison to the countless journeys I’d been on before, kind of a disappointment in some ways, perhaps for the best. Monumental hallucinations may have fared ill while trying to play band manager for all interested parties-especially the woman doling out cash for the band and the slight incident that came about while trying to get their pay.

The truly maddening point with all the misfits of entertainment and information being thrown before our eyes is that people may recognize that it’s predominately swill, but who’s doing anything about it? Everyone balks about dullards like Kim Kardashian – some half-wit that started her repugnant career by fucking a guy on tape – yet what have we done to stop her reign? Her brand of diversion is a scab on America’s lip but some clandestine person(s) with the power of a djinn keeps that tart on screen and making a far better paycheck than you or I will probably ever encounter. News hacks spew out time filler by the hour on CNN and program directors could care less about giving us the truth. Where are the Edgar R. Murrows of the 21st century?

I went into the bar to talk to the manager about the band’s pay and she told me the bar tab for the band was almost twice what they were going to pay the performers. What a line of shit! Perhaps the band had been drinking a bit but there is no way they could have claimed that much alcohol. The manager hands me less than what was agreed upon for pay (which already was a slap in the face-a pittance-not even close to being scale) and again tells me how much the band’s bar tab has run up to. Well I stare at her for a moment and try to read her expression but the delusions brought on by the acid made her face too hard to focus on. Multicolored ribbons, like cellophane, squirming over her cheeks and chin. The band members were flabbergasted, to say the least. Were we supposed to give the money back and still owe? Astonished at the bill and not sure what to do, we all eventually came to the consensus that we should a: walk out immediately and not offer the money back to cover the bar tab and b: take the money and go buy beer with it. This ended up being a great idea, which we followed through with.

So what conclusion should we pull from these points I bring up? I think the thing to get out of this post is, don’t settle – stop compromising. The decision to walk out on the tab and go buy beer worked out pretty good-in fact the band will be performing there again and life will go on. Stop sitting there thinking there’s nothing you can do about poor program selections and inadequate news coverage. Stand up against these big dogs and throw it back in their face. Take a fucking moment and write or email or phone the conglomerates that have ass-banged us into believing true art and culture reside in the fat cheeks of Honey Boo Boo. True artists, inspiring people with real talent, are out there trying to be noticed and if enough people turned off the tv for a weekend and patronized places that showcase musicians or theatrical performers, I think we would all be a little richer for the experience. Contact news organizations and demand better coverage of local, national and international news. Too many corporations are under the impression that the news is nothing more than a formula to walk their addicted fans to like dancing llamas on a rope. Stop settling…we did and the beer was great!


My Toe Back in a Puddle of LSD part 1


West Highlands, Colorado (considered part of the town of Westminster) is a perfectly lovely little town to visit while tripping. A year or so ago I added to my ‘bucket’ list to once again venture back into the twisted realm of LSD (Lysergic acid diethylamide). I have kept in touch with other hallucinogenics, such as mushrooms and what-not, but that old chemical demon, LSD, had not crossed my lips for many years now The band I was going to patronize/manage had a gig in West Highlands and the evening was right and a friend of a friend gave me the opportunity to get some blotter so I knew it was time to put my toe back in a puddle of LSD.

World and national events continue to plaque our lives with morose political nonsense and misinformation – unemployment numbers get reported as looking good yet in fact the job situation seems to move or change very little. Whose reports can we trust anymore? News media has become a popularity pie that holds onto viewers like a vial of meth from a tweaker. The truth plays second fiddle to the subjective guidance of stories. If you don’t like Fox News then you’re probably gonna love MSNBC. If you like Brett Hume then you probably don’t want to even look at Rachel Maddow so you can focus on that, or you can ignore it all and turn on some daft ‘reality’ program that works to generate cyber pals for you to numb the night away. Reality shows…reality? Really? Reality programs are like the synthetic meat they just learned to create….it’s close to meat, but not really meat at all – and what an abhorrent process to go through to just to simulate and replace the original…..sinful.

I had taken the chemical early enough so as not to affect any heavy machinery I may have to operate but still within a time limitation that would allow me to enjoy some colorful nonsense while watching the band. I actually ended up on the quaint town west of Denver somewhat early so I spent some hours walking the streets, tripping the light fantastic (so to speak). People in Highlands take great pride in their gardens and patios, lush lime green foliage and brightly colored flowers. The typical xeriscape lawns most Denver/Aurora neighborhoods have wasn’t noticed here in Highlands. Vivid colors and tri-colored Victorian style homes – a true acid taker’s delight. One house held me captivated for a bit; on the outside wall of this green home they had mounted a gecko sculpture and a gargoyle peering over the front porch roof. These are the kind of things that can get one in a giddy giggling fit of happiness, imagining conversations, hearing voices… own reality show.

I keep putting my hopes on a ‘reality’ news show, but that probably won’t happen. We all have to discover what, where and who we choose to listen to for the truth about matters of our world. What is causing the unemployment situation, health care, foreign wars and a dozen other issues to behave the way they do is speculative, but hard numbers about the ups and downs of how many people are unemployed, have health care, etc., should not be as subjective as the media portrays it. Media analysts can argue that people will choose what they wish to watch but persuasive programing can turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse, metaphorically speaking. If you take away everything but mind numbing programs pitting witless young men and women against each other to win the affection of an increasingly bored audience, you can actually get people to think they enjoy it. Again…..sinful.

Well it certainly wasn’t the acid of my youth, that strong microbursting chemical surge that would have you seeing yourself literally melting onto the sidewalk, but it was okay. I’ve had enough bad trips to last me a lifetime so I wasn’t anxious to go that far off the pier, but I did want a bit of night lights, which this new cooked stuff provided. I kept in control enough (I hope) to perform my duties as manager – got the band drinks, patronized with the audience, shmoozed with the owners, all while under the heavy influence. Years of training on the chemical had me prepared to handle the most intense situations, although I have to admit there was one moment during the evening when a wine glass fell to the floor behind the bar and shattered – this about curled my skin off. My friend helped me maintain as we stood at the bar waiting for drinks. Certain non-hallucinogenic incidents happened to try and throw me off my game, like the midget I came across down the street at a wine bar and the deaf girl at the show who had to speak loud and a bit off, like Marleee Matlin…I had to hold it in. I came so close to freaking over the small man but held it together. Thank God, I needed no short person incident – me in a fight with a midget wouldn’t look good, especially all ticked on LSD.


Bloodshed in the Land of Pharoahs: pt. 2


I felt myself falling backward as the funkadelic music blasted through the stage speakers. This big fucking malamute was taking me down! I already anticipated racking my head and other body parts open on the concrete steps but somehow, I was okay with it. The only regret I would have is this could put a damper on the rest of the crowd’s evening-some old stoned motherfucker splits his head open like a ripe melon, show over.

Luckily the crowd was substantial in size and close enough to me that there was no avoiding my big ass. I came tumbling down on the group and a few dozen sets of hands cushioned me safely onto the steps….a mosh pit experience to be sure. I had forgotten about the strength a crowd can have.  Sometimes those crowds can help you when you’re really high and falling. Sometimes those crowds will even put their lives on the line in front of armed troops sent in to overthrow you and your kind………Egypt.

The fighting continues to this day, as I write this entry into the annals of the Church, and who can say where the violence will end up? Worse human atrocities build by the hour-by the fucking hour. Almost a week ago now, armed forces clashed with protesting citizens and cleared out a sit-in demonstration that reportedly killed more than 600 people. Supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood retaliated two day later by taking to the streets with pistols and other weapons that brought about 35 more deaths to the toll, police officers included among the fatalities.

So while the crowd of hippies danced and smoked the evening away with me for two days in Denver, my mind kept focusing back in on the poor souls of Egypt and the violence they’re currently having to live with. Some will look at them and say this is no concern of ours and although Western society has no close dog in this fight, relations with people throughout our world is growing closer and closer with the advent of technology. We are closer in contact with knowing what’s going on in that part of the world-if we choose to pay attention-so what happens over there, can easily become a guidebook for what can go on over here. The paranoid ramblings of folks who feel our Government is going to take away our weapons and leave us defenseless against troop driven endeavors may have the future a bit over-painted, but I can see where they’re going with this perception. America hasn’t seen violence like this on her streets for a long time and do we really think we’re going to be any better equipped than some half mad Egyptian Muslim with a head full of hate? I wouldn’t want to bet on those odds folks.

So enjoy yourself while you can, get out there and dig on some live music, get a little fucking high, but when push comes to shove we should all educate ourselves on what is capable in a true life struggle of power. We should also not go into a span of hatred toward any group of people solely from their religious affiliation-who’s right in this battle? The Muslim Brotherhood supporters? The troops out there backing the individuals that threw out the elected favorites and put their own people in charge? I’ll close this subject for now but I feel there will certainly be more to ponder in the very near future. Until then, I dance the twirly dance with one eye on the blood gathering in the streets of the Land of the Pharoahs.


Bloodshed in the land of Pharoahs; the Mile High Twirly Dance: pt. 1


An all out, no holds barred civil war has erupted in Egypt leaving the streets of Cairo dripping with blood. This is no History Channel docudrama, this is a live horror show folks. Supporters of ousted President Mohammed Morsi continue to clash with Egyptian armed forces, led by interim President Adly Mansour. Each side wags the finger at their opposition with unsubstantiated claims of wanton violence. Few facts can be verified as the violence  spreads outside Cairo into adjoining cities.

Days before all the recent fighting in Cairo, Denver hosted a two day free concert in Civic Center park. This is the same park that back in 2011 started a local Mile High chapter of the Occupy Wall Street protest, complete with squatters, drug addled mutants and other carnival side show material. I was there covering the protest (see earlier Ass Bleeding Morons blog posts, or read about it in my book) and as I wandered this weekend into a pit of twirly dancing free spirits, I reflected on the difference in the tone the park had taken on. I was on hand for both nights of the concert and helped welcome out of towners in search of the nefarious, now locally legal weed. The sheepish approach tourists displayed was understandable. This country is still nursing the concept of a society where marijuana is no longer the horrid stain our government tried to convince us it was. Proponents of responsible pot smoking are being taken serious now that Washington State and Colorado have laid the harsh penalties of marijuana possession to rest.

Landmarks, such as the Giza Pyramids and the Egyptian Museum have been closed to tourism. The Egyptian Central Bank has instructed branch banks near the violence to close. The chaos and fighting produced a curfew in Cairo and ten surrounding provinces and in spite the formal protests from the United States and European countries, Egyptian troops continue to clash with pro-Morsi supporters. The thing that taunts some Americans and Europeans about this conflict are two dirty little words; ‘Muslim Brotherhood’. With the advent of the Twin Towers crashing to rubble on 9-11 a new era of race/religious bashing formed in our world, especially prominent in America. The closest comparison might be the way racial prejudice toward Japanese people grew in America after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Our country has developed a slow growing bigotry toward Arabs, Arab Americans and anyone who they deem Arab (Sikhs and Hindus continue to be mistaken for Muslims thanks to the uneducated portrayal Hollywood leaves us with). Violence toward supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood a perplexing state of affairs for most Christians (or non-Muslims). We tend to stir all Arab nations into the same pot-extremists and non-extremists alike.

America was held captive by Iran back when the Ayatollah Khomeini escalated the 1979 Iranian revolution that staged a coup against Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, the Shah of Iran. Years later we went on the offense and stormed into Iraq to overthrow their President, Saddam Hussein-after supporting Hussein and his troops for years against the war they held with Iran. The U.S. continues to  be tossed into a quandary about what to do with the Arab Nations because few people know what factions will side with one another in that part of the world…about the only thing we can say for certain is, there are an assload of Muslims who would love to wipe the Jews off the face of the Earth.

I felt it my ambassadorial responsibility to quell the fears of these tourists coming here to sneak a high in the open. You could see the initial shock in their face change to shit eating grins as I loaded up my soapstone pipe and took a big hit. At some point I felt like a bag lady in the park feeding pigeons as the crowd of drifting hippies swarmed at me for a free buzz. It was all good though and I had no reservations about helping my fellow concertgoers get high. We danced and at one point worked our way up the concrete steps to the platform where the band laid down some electrifying old school funk. I had forgotten about the large Malamute some effeminate dancing guy with a shaved head brought (the dog was in training to be a utility dog for the handicapped). He placed the dog on the steps earlier and at one point during our dancing frenzy-in a split second-I felt myself toppling backward down the steps. I knew I had just tripped over the dog.


My Shag Lounge Political Nirvana Pt. fini


My first encounter with a caustic Asian woman took place in Austin, Texas back in the late 70’s. I was fresh out of a divorce and living in the barracks at Bergstrom AFB serving a four year stint with the United States Air Force. Wednesday nights were dime beer night at the Still, some shoddy disco bar where GIs felt welcome (at least their money was welcome). It’s not that I was a huge disco fan – you could either stay on base and watch some dribble on television or you could hitch a ride with anyone leaving the barracks at night to go wherever they deemed. My friend, Brian, had a Firebird he borrowed from one of the two girls he dated and she liked to go disco dancing, so quite often I ended up in a car full of guys headed to the Still.

Now being newly divorced had left me with an ‘all women are shit’ attitude. All I wanted was to be left alone with a head full of crank and a table full of Dixie cups filled with beer. I was forming a protective mental shell around myself when this Indonesian chick in a sarong and cheap costume jewelry plops down at my table. She starts talking with dialogue straight out of some Vietnam war era flick.

“What’s the matter GI?”

“Oh pardon me. I’m okay, I just want to be left alone.”

“Come on, you know you want to dance with me. What’s the matter, some girl dump you?”

She keeps jumping back and forth between insulting me and prodding me to make a move on her. I kept getting more and more frustrated and the last thing you want to do to someone with a head full of crystal is piss them off. She finally broke the last brick in my barrier of etiquette and I start laying into her heavy. “Get the fuck away from me you slut, I want nothing to do with you!” I could have gone racial but that wouldn’t have helped the matter at all. She kept fighting with me, getting really loud and eventually I had one of the bouncers throw her out. She continued cursing me and pointing her finger at me as security drug her outside.

The similarity in attitude from this Korean girl at the Shag flashed my mind back to that Texas/Oriental encounter – the difference this time being, I had an outlet. My Latino friend had managed to win her over with his constant doling of compliments to her, all manner of sexual suggestions included. She was eating it up and soon he had her on the stripper’s pole for him. This is beautiful I thought to myself. An outlet away from both these monsters. I pulled him aside while he was being distracted by her and insist he give me some cash for bus fare. I said he could go off with her and I would be fine so, he had no problem giving me the two dollars and twenty five cents for the bus….he got off cheap.

Riding back on the Colfax express I did a quick scan to ensure there were no potential violent crazies on board, then slipped back to that moment of perception my friend evoked inside me. He was so fucking right and it was that simple. This was not the answer to all our country’s problems, but it could be the starting point to begin rising back to more notable prosperity. Admit to the public that yes, politicians have been assholes for quite some time and it is now time to turn around and begin being accountable for your actions. Start working at fixing our nation’s problems and stop wasting so much time running your re-election campaigns. Talk is already buzzing in Republican quarters about what they can do to act on the recent flare of popularity Rand Paul is creating. Sarah Palin has come out saying she may again run for political office (why? So you can quit again?) – and don’t even get me started about the Democrats in office. Those milquetoast do nothing motherfuckers continue to whine about how the Republicans won’t cooperate with them to get anything done. I don’t know what secret powers the GOP had when they were the majority in rule but they managed to walk all over the Dems and pull shit off constantly….take a page out of their play book and start getting more done. Stick to a more basic plan of action and stop kowtowing to every special interest group that wants to dissuade you into acting on their agenda alone. States are slowly converging on a lot of special interest laws and with their overwhelming numbers can turn the face of federal mandate (i.e. Colorado legalizes pot, which can open the door to more and more states following, which will create a lax in federal law) so why not focus the power of our nation on fixing health care and infrastructure? Our railroads are falling apart. The power grids of the U.S. are unstable. I don’t expect immediate results but in a time when you can get our nation to click a phone and vote on which fucking dancer should win on tonight’s episode of “Dancing Cause Nothing Else Is On”, you can certainly turn around some course of action quicker than it has taken.

I left my friend and the Asian chick to go discover their new found true love. I just hope I don’t get a call from him saying he has to dispose of a body.  He’ll probably be going back to Mexico in the next few days so if a week passes and I get no call, I should be good


My Shag Lounge Political Nirvana pt. 2


I know you little libertine
I know you’re a real coocoo
-The Breeders, Cannonball

 “Get off the floor” I yelled at my drunk dark skinned friend. “There’s no way I can talk politics to you now that you’ve turned into some drunken sot!” Of course I was joking (mostly) by apparently the Asian girl at the bar didn’t see the humor. She had no idea about a previous arrangement between me and my friend to talk ‘politics and shit’. She starts laying into me with a shaking finger saying something to the effect of “stop hassling him-he’s just trying to have fun and you’re stomping all over that.”

 The one point my friend made with spot on accuracy before he hit the floor, falling off the stripper pole, was his suggestion that politicians take a lesson from the Pope. I don’t mean to literally say what the Great Pointed Hat Man said verbatim, I mean heed his lesson and admit to yourself-and to the world- that American politicians have hit an all-time low and it’s time to start working toward raising the bar a bit. If they (the Catholic Church) can begin getting back to the basics of helping humankind and stop getting involved in sex scandals, our politicians can certainly start getting back to helping the public and stop shooting pictures of their dick over the cyberwaves of communication. It’s not a flawless idea but certainly taking that first step couldn’t hurt. Day to day lives of people all over haven’t changed much since Mad George Bush was in office and here we are in the 2nd term of the Great Hope and Change. We have bridges that need building, healthcare issues to consider for a growing ratio of aging Americans and we end up with smug defiant Republicans and Democrats blasting pictures of their junk to chicks.

 Big ticket news item; the President has a stand-off approach to Vladimir Putin. Obama is under the media eye to see how he will handle the Russian leader and what might develop from that-this I would classify as of great importance but aside from that (on a national level) most things have remained the same for us. This is in the fifth year of the big party switchover and little steps have been taken from Democrats or Republicans that hasn’t come without great struggle. Fingers continue to point back and forth, legislation is held back and Anthony Weiner keeps hunting for strange.

 My Latino friend thinks it’s hilarious that the Asian girl is getting irate with me. She has become the second assertive Asian woman I’ve come in contact with while in a bar. She starts chumming up to my friend and I see a perfect match, made from the bowels of Hell…


My Shag Lounge Political Nirvana pt. 1


“I Wanna Getcha’ High
I Want To Get  Next To You”
-Somethin’ Hot, the Afghan Whigs

My record socializing with Asian women (to date) is a big 0-2. My first incident happened while I was heavily under the influence from a heap of beers and a couple lines of crank. Tonight’s incident didn’t involve speed but here was another irate Korean chick, in my face to interrupt my plateau of happiness, my mind fog of joy. A friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in a while popped back into the states for a day or two and wanted to chat about ‘politics and shit’, as he put it. He no longer has a house here so we needed a place to sit and blather our brains out; my suggestion led us to the Shag Lounge.

The Shag reminds me of the type bar you’d see in a Frank Miller graphic novel mixed with some failed hipsters and couples meeting for a secret affair. Low thumping music and a dark interior lit by flamingo pink neon lights. This is my newly adopted favorite public dungeon of solace. My friend picked me up and after a short drive and a few bowls of some potent strain we were on the bar stools at the Shag ordering some tequila. House special prices til ten and mi compadre is footing the bill (at my insistence-I refused to hang with him otherwise and if you knew him I believe you’d insist too). He looks at the bartender and trying to be jovial asks if it’s okay if we talk politics. “I don’t mind” the bartender smiles. “-as long as you don’t talk against my politics.” Ha- fucking ha. Hand me my tequila.

So we initially start commenting on Pope Francis’ recent news bombshell. The Pontiff came out on Monday and during an interview announced that he does not judge gay priests and seeks a greater role for women in the Catholic Church. What a fucking outstanding PR move from the Pointy Hat. The Catholic Church has been slowly dieing from financial straits and exposed molestation incidents from priests. This statement to the press smacked two birds with one stone. He states a new Church stance toward homosexuality, which takes the public focus off the kid rape-brilliant!

“It’s about time that the Church caught up with the times and listened to the people” my friend tells me. I was a little surprised he felt this way because this guy is uber-hetero; I thought for sure he would have this ‘fuck all queers’ mentality but he proved me wrong. Bravo for him and the Pope.

“Smart move from the Pope-this could boost sales for the Church” I crack. “Folks might start coming back to the Church-hell they might even start letting gay people into sermons.”

“Why not” he smiles. “Shit they’re used to fucking young boys-sounds like they’re open to almost any suggestion.”

I reminded him that Jesus hung out with whores and we started laughing and slapping the bar, tears coming out of our eyes…that’s when the Korean girl leaned over and stuck her face into ours. “I don’t appreciate that kind of talk.”

“Then why the fuck are you in a bar?” I shrugged. My friend looked like he was going to pipe in and say something when all of a sudden the inhouse DJ starts spinning some slow beat hip-hop love song which gets him to his feet and up on the stripper pole; The Shag Lounge has a stripper pole in the middle of the place for the truly drunk. “Hey Geronimo” he yells at me.” I’ll be your gay slut dancah!” I stand up and start blessing him like a priest. The tequila(s) mixed with all that pot had broken down our inhibitions. I snap back quick and offer an apology to the Asian girl. “Look, I’m not knocking the Church. I’m just saying that they’ve had a pretty shaded past and they need to clean up their act. Maybe this Pope’s trying to rebuild the Catholic Church for the better of the religion, which means he has to start cleaning his own house and getting it in order.”

“Fucking politicians could take a lesson from the fucking Pope” my friend shouts out. Then he falls off the pole, onto the floor.

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