Shit My Dad Says (When He Trips On My Acid)

Alan didn’t say a word. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of beer, popped the top and walked out the door in silence. He got in his Volvo and sped off without ever looking back once. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t be coming back but I ran to the door hoping I was wrong as he pulled away. Sadie looked up from the sink, the sink that held her prisoner for the last eighteen years every evening after dinner. “What’s the matter Honey?” It was as though she hadn’t even noticed, “Where’d Dad go?” Sadie had a puzzled look on her face which gave way to a Stepford wife smile, “Oh he’s probably gone out to get some beer or cigarettes. I so wish he would quit smoking.” She looked up at the ceiling as if it was where life’s answers hid. Mom was clueless and I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
Alan wasn’t going out for beer or for cigarettes. He was just going out, probably not certain himself what he was in search of. One thing I was certain of is my Mom and Dad would not be living the American Dream anymore. That dream began to crumple three days ago when he went out to mow the lawn. That’s when this whole sorry situation began. I know this because when I got back to my room I could tell Dad had been snooping and missing from my desk was the hit of LSD on a life saver. Holy savior on a stick Alan was getting fucked up!
Frantic at first I thought I had been busted by my old man but when I went outside to confront him about it I could tell. My dad is tripping on my Orange Sunshine. I studied his face as he alternated between laughing at the lawn and scowling at it then looking around confused. “Oh fuck, the lawn is communicating to my old man.” That’s when I knew it was all over.
The rest of the night was surreal. He couldn’t possibly have known what was going on and the shit spinning in his head had to be freaking him the fuck out! Nothing good would come of this. That was some powerful LSD and it was gonna take my fathers brain out and rearrange in ways he’ll never understand. He’ll see things that make no sense, and make sense of things he never noticed before. I wasn’t sure if I should just watch and enjoy or intervene somehow. Either way profound changes were in store for sure. I’ve heard many a story of people that flipped out and ended up in hospitals or bunt out for life because they were giving LSD without their knowledge. This didn’t seem to be the case here, Alan was digging it. He probably thought the grass clippings were messages from God and now his life has some obscure esoteric purpose. Tonight he is acting on whatever he believes those messages meant.

Samsung and Da-Liar (A sick bastards bible selection)


Part 1

So the Israelites were really screwing up and the guy in charge was pissed. Not just casually pissed, but royally and unconditionally pissed off. The kind of pissed that goes way beyond the Thunderdome. Mad to the Max! Those ungrateful shits had to be punished so the apparition of an entity above decided they should become the slaves of the Steens of Philadelphia, better known as the Philly-Steens. The Philly-Steens were a formidable religious group who worshipped Baal and were enemies of Israelites They were ruled by King Davey Jones, a monarch that profited greatly through the use of slaves. The poor Israelites had no where to turn so they began to pray to the dude almighty who sat high above everyone. Or was that he sat above everyone while high? Whatev, they were desperate so they began to pray relentlessly.
“Please almighty authority figure, we know we fucked up big time but this king and his bitch are running us ragged and not giving us anything at all. The only feeding they do is to the lions like some damn Roman Emperor or something. We promise we will never again eat bacon and we will pray only to you the great and powerful wizard of God. You saved us once before and led us here and promised us freedom. Of course we walked and fought for years and years but when we finally got to the city of Jerum we were tired. One little fuck up and BAM, you enslave us to these Steens.” The big guy listened to this same thing day after day after day until he could take it no longer. “Okay, okay you relentless ungrateful bastards enough already. Yes you fucked up and I expect you to take your punishment like men. But noooo, you guys are always so damn whiny. Well I’m not gonna just set your asses free like that but here’s what I will do for you lazy ass mofo‘s. I will impregnate one of your ladies with a child who will grow up strong and single handedly not only destroy the Philly-Steens, but come up with a cell phone that will rival the forbidden Apple. This way I still get to watch you suffer for a while to ensure that next time I give you a command you follow it! Just please, please, please stop with your damn prayers every day, give it a rest once in a while.” With that the unseen ruler of all things ironically disappeared. Not totally stoked but happy to have something they took solace and went home to wait.
It didn’t take long at all. That is it didn’t take long for him to choose which maid he would fill to the brim with divine potent power sperm. It was in the suburb of Galaxy he went to fornicate himself up a child who would grow up to defeat the Philly-Steens and free his people once again. Wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone that he chose Manoah’s wife Raven as his sex partner and child begetter. As her name suggests Raven had dark inviting eyes and a beautiful flawless face surrounded by thick and luxurious onyx black hair. Without a hint of self consciousness she proudly wore low cut dresses giving more than a glimpse of her firm oversized breasts. These magnificent globes had eye magnets which drew every mans and most of the women’s eyes directly down to them. The large tantalizing breasts took to bouncing playfully and seductively all over town. It was rumored they could skip rope double dutch while drinking Dos Equis. They were real, and they were spectacular.
It took all the willpower this god had to keep from pre maturely spilling out his super-sperm over himself as he salaciously drooled over her erotic and exotic body. The long slit up her tight fitting dress revealed very sexy legs with perfectly formed calves ready for slaughter. Thighs smooth and svelte she had sensual legs that just wouldn’t quit. Her hips DID lie but everyone believed whatever they said. Manoah was the envy of every horny mammal within a hundred mile radius. The almighty spirit took Raven inside his lair and the two went at it all night long as Manoah moped in dejected silence. So seductive and skilled was she that the entire town could bear witness to Jehovah being heard screaming over and over, “Oh my fucking Raven!!” He had his rod and staff comforted in her loins thrice and left so much godsperm inside Ravens body remnants of the mighty swimming life-forces oozed out of every orifice they could find including a number of hair follicles. Some of the over zealous sperm cells even went airborne. There would be no doubt that Raven would be giving birth to a half human, half god child from this evening and they would name him Samsung.
Before leaving the satisfied Raven and the slightly pissed off Manoah the smiling Lord of Lumber instructed Raven to never consume alcohol again and if they wanted to be free they must promise to raise their son as a Nazirite. As a Nazirite he must follow a few simple rules. First, no alcohol, grapes, or vinegar, second never visit a grave or come in contact with a corpse, and lastly he was not allowed to cut his hair. In addition to these strange rules he had to follow a strict work out regimen and praise and obey the one and only true god. (Of which there were many to choose from).Manoah and Raven were to feed him a steady supply of protein drinks and steroids and were instructed to bring up the child with a regimen of intense exercise, combat training, and healthy eating habits. This handsome god/man would grow to be the strong and stealth warrior of the Israelites that was seduced and betrayed by a sexy Philly-Steen hussy. This then is where the legend known as Samsung of Galaxy and Da-Liar of Boldface begins.

A Weekend To Forget

Me and my droogs had just finished some moloko plus at the Milk Bar and had zero pretty polly in our wallets. “Oh my dear droogies methinks the hour has arrived for some ultra violence and some crasting to fill our pockets with kuppit. Lets go find Billy Boys gang and kick all four in the yarbles till the rich red krovvy runs from their rots. Then we’ll tolchock some vellochek and crast all his cutter so we can peet some more moloko.” All agreed and out out out we went into the night. Shortly we came across Billy Boy and his shaika of like gloopy moodges and the tolchoking began. So angry was your humble narrator that I pulled out my britvah and sliced old Billy boys yahzik and kicked his zoobies in. Sirens abounded and millicents in blue uniforms were everywhere. “Come along droogies, we don’t want to end up in Staja.”
Running away laughing all we were now having a real horrorshow time. Dim spoke up, “How abouts some of the old in and out with the devotchkas Alex?” Being a good leader I chose to agree and off we set to the suburbs. We came across a small cottage where resided a like older chelloveck and his beautiful zheena. We tricked him into allowing us entrance and I instructed Dim and the others to perform some ultr-violence on the chellovecks while I sodded the mans hot dama. With my panhandle in hand I did the old in and out whilst singing in the rain was sung by yours truly. I could hear the old chelloveck creeching in pain. Each of my droogs took their turns as I surveyed the cottage for cutter or goods to fence. Beethoven was playing on the record which made your truly smile, when suddenly I saw it! A Belgian ale name Defiant. I could like sense my droogies lubidubbing the pitsa as she creeched in a like poogly voice.
What a great weekend it was, fun times with friends, some sodding and groompy sex with a young sharp, and to top it off a bottle of delicious Defiant triple ale from Belgium. What a fantastic memorial day weekend. Well at least it was until your humble friend and narrator was arrested by the razz’s, put in prison and subjected to the Ludoviko Technique of aversion therapy which stripped me of my free will.

Have An Existential Weekend

Breaking News. An army of tree hugging, anti war pacifists have declared Peace on all nations of the world. In an attempt at annihilation of hate they gather in groups and form peaceful protests with an obsession of making the world a better and safer place to live in. These freaks should be considered unarmed and dangerous because they threaten the long standing philosophies of controlling the masses with money and power through the mistreatment of others. If you come across one or more of these peaceniks don’t call for help, but offer assistance. Have a safe and happy Memorial Day and if you want to honor those served never stop striving for Peace!

The Story Of Everything, Final Frontier

So This Is The Promised Land? Oy Vey, Its So Small

The basic plan was to head into the promised land and kick the shit out of everyone and everything along the way. Early battles with the various tribes of Amorites were just tune up struggles to get into shape for the big battles. After losing quite a few Israelite warriors Joshua decided strategy was their best strength. He would lead troops into the castle of his nemesis Jerry Coe. The strategy he employed was absolute brilliance. He took his army of weary warriors and instead of attacking he marched them around the walls of Jerry Coe’s city for seven days. The people inside watched this mock parade with amusement and bewilderment. In Jerry Coe’s office he sat with his military advisors. “What the fuck are the Juice doing? They have been walking around the wall of my city for days now. Just carrying on around in circles. Should we attack them?” The question was directed at his general, Shah Bashin-Dareheads, first cousin of Caligula. “Well I’ll tellya Jer, if it were up to me I would shoot them all. The only problem is ole Sol here says we have no legal precedent to go by. They haven’t broken any laws.” As they struggled to figure out what to do, ole Sol had an idea. “Hey, you know what guys? We could bust them for not having a parade permit.” Jubilation filled the room as they all schemed to go out an arrest them starting with that bothersome shit Joshua. The jubilation was premature because as they were filling out the proper paperwork, the walls of the city began to collapse with them smack dab in the center. Apparently the Juice were not only marching around but two spy juice had planted explosive devices at strategic locations. While the city was looking on in that bewilderment of theirs the juice spies had been sneaking around setting them up for the explosion. For good measure, Joshua burned down the entire city with everyone in it. Everyone will know who we are now, he boasted! “how so you like me now Jerry Coe?”
That was his brilliant strategy, the roast and boast. Once they tore the walls down it would be straight for Jerusalem. Here was their final frontier, their patch of promised land to keep forever. Years of wandering the deserts, crossing numerous rivers, engaging in hundreds of fatal battles, through gallons of blood sweat and tears the Juice had come to this. Jerusalem, the city of Pea‘s.. The promised land where they could set up their own little Utopia. It was here in this city that Joshua sent word to the Canaanites that this was the land promised them from Yehaw. Not long after the disdainful laughter of the Canaanite began Joshua’s tired yet inspired soldiers attacked and defeated the laughing fools of the city and claimed it for themselves. This then was where they would set up shop. A new city in the cradle of civilization that would forever be remembered and forever be the source of the most disputed piece of realty in history.
So that’s it, that’s my twisted tale of the story of everything. It was my intent to offend everyone possible and I attempted to do it both frequently and relentlessly. If your religion was not offended I apologize. I meant to leave no religion at all to be un-mocked and I tried to blanket many of them because I’m just to fucking lazy to research every friggen religion in the world. Anyway, hope you enjoyed my tale of The Story of Everything and feel free to pass it along from generation to generation. Who knows, two thousand years from now this may be found by aliens and considered Yehaw’s gospel truth. Peace.

Have A Cupcake, The Existential Treat

exist cc

The Only True Philosophical Question Is “Are You Gonna Eat That Cupcake?”

Existentialism is the philosophy of living your life with sincerity and passion. Life has meaning to an existentialist, its just not a predestined life or a life controlled by any religious boundaries. Basically existentialists are the rebels of creationism, deniers of nihilism, and singers of their own songs (some of us also dance but my guilty feet got no rhythm). A philosophy which embraces free choice but with a bit of moral responsibility and unlike anarchy there is an understanding of the cause and effect resulting in consequence. Being existential doesn’t absolve me of punishment when I screw up. But how can I bake existentially, and how are cupcakes the existential treat?
First the cupcakes. Are they really existential? It’s a question that would have stymied Socrates, perplexed Plato, and driven Kierkegaard Krazy. That claim may not be truly fair because cupcakes didn’t even exist until 1796 so Socrates and Plato are off the hook. But Soren may well have sampled a cupcake during his existing period. Quite possibly his Mom baked some in wonderful wonderful Copenhagen when he was jut a boy with a big brain
Like many of our treasured mysteries there is a bit of controversy over the name and history of our existential treat, the cupcake. While many believe it’s a reference to small cakes that were measured by the cup as opposed to scales, the more likely explanation is it was a cake baked in a small ramekins in the early 19th century. Most were baked by short elfish people of Denmark who lived in trees. The ovens were very small and all they could fit were a few coffee ramekins to bake with (don’t believe that I’m lying my existential ass off)
I theorize cupcakes are the most existential of treats because of its rebel nature and humble beginnings. Cupcakes understand their purpose in life is to bring joy and happiness to one who consumes it. It exists ready willing and able to serve when served. No need to cut these individual delicacies it into slices or break pieces off, it’s a self confident and self contained treat. The cupcake embraces its short life and if you look closely at a well engineered cupcake you can see its total essence has a much more profound understanding of self than all other treats. It stands loud and proud in the knowledge that it looks and tastes exactly as it chooses and it defies any control by religious orders. Never associated with the last supper or communion responsibilities, never on display in the shape of a rams horn of sitting Shiva, and always ready but not obligated to break the fast of Ramadan. The cupcake is however revered in many celebrations . It happily takes its cherished place of honor in Rio during carnival. But don’t pray for me Argentina, I’m a non secular treat and I am here for no other reason than to add joy to your life. My soul purpose is to enlighten your taste buds while coaxing a smile to inhabit your face.
.Filled with this information there is no doubt that Socrates, Plato, and Kierkegaard would have all agreed that each cupcake exists as individual and is committed to becoming someone’s personal choice. It sets itself apart from other desserts in the world of the existential. Try as it may the petit four, whilst appearing individually bite size in stature was baked as a much larger cake and cut into its shape. The cupcake begins, exists, and ends as exactly what it is to become, a lovely individual. That’s why cupcakes are the existential treat.
So that’s how cupcakes are existential but how does one bake existentially? Not as easy as it sounds because the production of cupcakes follow strict baking guidelines. I need to consider the laws of physics that allow the batter to rise and fill with air as the proteins go about setting up at the same time to trap that air inside insuring a fluffy texture. Once the laws of physics and nature are both understood, appreciated, and obeyed I can begin to alter basic recipe to give it individuality. That’s the job of an existential baker, to re arrange the recipe and introduce the cupcake to the processes necessary in completing it while allowing for its individuality at the same time. Each one is given its own bake spot on the pan and subjected to the proper temperatures to nurture it to become what it is, an edible existential beauty.
I also need to have a deep understanding of its roots. I celebrate the life of the wheat as it blows in the winds and soaks up sun’s energy until it gets harvested and milled into flour, the lives of the many chickens who sacrifice their eggs for our consumption on so many levels, and the cows that shared their liquid of life, mothers milk. The flavorings, the sugars, the leavening agents all have stories as well dating back even before the agricultural revolution. I never take their existence for granted, but I do refuse to follow militaristic styles of regimen in production. The times and amounts of baking in no two days are ever the same. Different intervals and different sized pans help to develop my cupcakes individuality and that’s how they take on my personality. I have always lived my life as if it were an improv. Or maybe a sit-com but I never give the things in my life too much structure. I opt to take things a they happen, accept them and deal with them. Then move the fuck on to the next path because life comes at us fast and furious even though we may find ourselves bored at times. That pretty much sums up my basic life philosophy, live an let live and share your magnificent essence with others to make them appreciate this wonderful world of ours. Play each card as it turns up and make the best from what you have. When it comes to baking that’s how I roll, like an Artisan Vienna loaf. JK, that’s not how I roll, its how I bake existentially. I don’t even make rolls, only cupcakes. ….PEACE

Tiers On Their Wedding Day


Keeping My Day Job
Which came first, the eggsitentialist or the baker? The deeper philosophical question is which pays the bills. Not much thought involved in that mystery, so I baked my ass off to insure that a very happy couple had a nicely presented existentially baked and arranged treat. The cupcake is by far the most existential of all sweet treats and this tower stands proud as a monument to the profound love the couple have for one another. Despite the topper looking more like a groom on the run….PEACE

Closure For Bigots (Closure Mouths)

Closure? Yea Okay, I Got Your Closure Right Here!!
There are two groups of bigots I think need closure. First up Political propagandists. Its the new hot button exploited on social medias turning friends into enemies, and allowing too many people to flaunt their ignorance. I’m not talking about people who decide how they feel about an issue based on the merits of the issue. Be proud if you use your own opinion. I’m talking about the ones that take a stand based solely on the fact that its part of either a democratic or republican platform. Then they scour the internet in search of something clever that sounds like what they would say if they had an ounce of creativity in them and post it so the world can see how narrow minded they can truly be. They don’t need to debate because they made their mind up that they are right and nothing will change it. Not even truth.
I mean Jeez man, some people are still talking trash about Clinton, or Regan. That shits long over with man time to deal with today’s issues. Oh my Toto I don’t think we’re in Viet Nam anymore! People screaming about their second amendment rights based solely on the fact that someone who profits by spewing misinformation to ignite fear an anger said Obama is trying to take away our guns. WTF? It comes down to some paperwork to fill out to hopefully limit ownership to responsible users its not an assault on your right to bear arms. Sorta like licenses, registrations, that sort of thing, you know a small inconvenience on your right to drive a car.
If you have issue with something after seriously analyzing all the components fine, then it can be debated. But if you already have your mind made up because you thought someone who exploits fear for a living said something that sounds like it makes sense, try thinking for yourself. A closed mind can’t reason only an open mind can. That sort of closed mined thinking is nothing short of bigotry. Please don’t take a stand because you don’t like a conservative, or a liberal, or because the president is black. Wait what? Black? Surely you think people don’t make choices based on skin color in this ay and age? Think again, racism is just as strong as ever. Political bigots have a field day with Obama because he’s not only liberal, he’s black. If he were a gay woman on top of it they would have the support of the entire bigot nation. No, not everyone who disagrees with Obama does so based on the color of his skin but make no mistake racism is alive an thriving. Even in the country that considers itself so culturally advanced as America. I see mixed race couple in the UK very often and its just as natural as can be but in many areas of America its still viewed a an anomaly an frowned upon. If we’re not careful we could become a society of haters. I hear about gay bashing on a regular basis. When I look at the evidence I don’t see America as such an advanced society, at least not culturally. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not the president has many haters based solely on the fact that he’s black. You can tell who they are, their the ones that say “I’m not racist or anything, but…….” Yea, okay! Disagree with him all you want, but you gotta respect the guy, he’s the prez for gods sake. Which brings me to number two, religion.
You love your religion and you practice it with fervor. Good for you, I applaud that. In fact I do too. I love being an existentialist and I’m very proud of it. Know what I like most about it? Being an existentialist does not require me to try and turn everyone else into one. You won’t see me going door to door to spread the word of existing. I recently heard someone say being a Christian its his duty to spread Christianity. Duty? The entire world needs to convert? Didn’t the Romans try that before they fell? What happened to freedom of religion my patriotic Christian pushing friends? Forcing your beliefs on others isn’t freedom. They preach love one another but not if you’re gay, Muslim, or refuse to thank god for everything in the world. If you’re gay or Muslim you are an abomination. Harsh word for someone who preaches love. Onward christian soldier? Really? Like soldiers they invade a territory they have no business being in to force their beliefs on its tribal peoples. WTF? They scream when one of their “Mercenaries” is captured and expect us to do something about it. What gives any religion the right to force its tenets on anyone else?
Look, I have mad respect for people who believe strongly in their religions. But it’s their religion and its hypocritical to force your belief on anyone else. I have studied many religions alongside people that practice them and it all fascinates me. In the end I choose what to believe so respect my belief if you want me to respect yours. You like to pray? Pray to your hearts content. You want to praise your lord? Go for it. Sing his songs, love the tenets, practice the tenets. But to those who feel they need to come to my door and tell me I don’t know the truth, to those who feel its their duty to alter me to believe the same thing they believe, to those who feel indoctrination of innocent cultures is an acceptable practice, Closure mouth!
That’s right, that’s what those people need, to close their mouths. Political bigots and religious bigots need to shut the fuck up and let people be who they are. Accept them for that and then and only then will you achieve spiritual truth. As long as there is hate in your faith or your politics you are doomed to die a bigot. Using fear tactics to tell me the country is going to be annihilated because I’m ignorant and have been brainwashed by the liberals. Which who gives a fuck anyway because I’m going straight to hell because I’m not a christian. All of you hate filled bigots, heres your closure….Closure mouths unless you have something positive to add to life. Its time for us to make a paradigm shift in the way we think, all of us. Listen to the words of a Rastafarian….”Say you just can’t live that negative way, if ya know what I mean….Make way, for a positive day, cuz it’s a new day, new time, and it’s a new feeling, oh what a new day.” PEACE

Is That A Bazooka In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To Invade My Country?

War Makes Me Sick
War is a concept of death and destruction that exists so we can exist. Peace is a more desirable concept idealistically but war is essential to human existence for a number of reasons. War lowers populations and creates a plethora of jobs both during the battles and afterwards to rebuild the area’s destroyed. Some say its an economic boost, that’s for the experts but it does level the job hunting fields. War also forces us into making faster technological advances like GPS and drones. Most importantly it pretty much guarantees that our planet will be destroyed forcing us to look for multi planet alternatives, which we will nee eventually anyway. It also serves an ego-maniacal need. War helps asshole leaders overcompensate for their own diminutive sexual weapons by building bigger cannons, bazookas, and missiles.
Its no coincidence that they forge weaponry in the shape of a penis because the country with the biggest dicks in charge are usually the winners. War is historically waged between Alfa male leaders of countries they rule like sheep. They hoist their flags on the largest phallic poles they can find, and it always come down to who can still get it up after the battles are over. The flag that is. The alpha that gets his pole to stand highest in the end wins. Then they can parade their big flags and wave it in everyone else’s face. Of course they don’t do the actual sacrificing, they enlist the use of the less fortunate to lay their lives down. But that helps eliminate poverty so what the fuck, lets kill the poor. That way the leaders will be more than happy to brag about the sacrifices made and condemn any who don’t beam with pride as they wave that big flag someone else defended for in the name of freeom.
Bottom line is that war is a paradox that destroys families, generations, and countries, and spreads diseases. This brings me to my another point about war and human beings. The very second we’re born we are engaged in a war of microorganisms. Today I am suffering from a nasty cold. My head aches, my nose is runny, sore throat, fatigue, the works. Basically I feel like shit. In truth I cannot in good conscience attest to how shit may actually feel but I would guess having to be shit in and of itself would suck big time and that’s how I feel today. Why? Because there is a major war being fought inside my body. Your body is wonderland. A wonderland of microscopic battlefields.
From the day I was born troops set up inside my body and prepared for battle. My immune system employs a defense system poised for attack because relentless microbial warriors strive vigorously to destroy me via viral warfare. These warriors are so advanced they have learned how to mutate to look like the harmless germs in an attempt to sneak in unnoticed. They are able to unscramble complex codes my immune system has in place and enter further into my system to wage assaults on my lungs, my sinus cavities, and if permitted they will enter the hemoglobin hemisphere and cause extreme damage. I can fight this because I adopted my mothers immune system when I was born. The very second my chord was severed and I was on my own hundreds of thousands of micro-organisms began looking for a biologic bivouac in which to wave their tiniest of tiny flags. Just my luck a host of overcompensating microbes looking to impress. That’s why my Mom equipped me with her with anti-bodies, so when these aggressive nano dicks begin their assault on my newborn biological battlefield I could counter attack with a swift and certain response. But the biological war wage on without end and one day this week the bastards planned a sneak attack and sucker punched my ass good!
I have always been a man of peace, believed in the doctrines of Saint John Lennon and Saint Robert Marley and despite my size (no not my flag, I mean my actual size, 6’4”) I don’t believe in violence. And despite the fact I believe war is a necessary function of survival I will not now and would never have engaged in a war myself. I am an existentialist and as such believe in the live and let live law of nature, not the follow me or die laws of organized religion which in truth is the main instigator of wars. I am however taking up arms against the current war, or conflict if we are being literal, inside my body. I’m enlisting some mercenaries to fight the good fight in the form of either Zicam, Robitussin, or Mucinex… War really is unhealthy for children and other living things…….PEACE

Devil Dog Day Afternoon

I’m Stoned, Lets Go On A Hunger Strike ( are you gonna eat that?)
I’m Stoned, Lets Go On A Hunger Strike ( are you gonna eat that?)

Legalize marijuana. Simple enough concept but due to the fear of repercussions it wasn’t getting much support back in the day. I’m talking back in the olden times when we had to walk barefoot in the snow uphill in both directions just to buy rolling papers. In the days when carrying Visine got the red out and confirmed your status of stoner. Society deemed marijuana to be the devils weed back then. It was a weed alright, but a weed that turned into a flower in our minds. It was okay for fathers to numb their dull lives with an afternoon martini but smoking pot was a crime of grave concern They also complained that pot was an evil drug and was the gateway to heaven. Oh wait, I have that wrong, the gateway to heroin is what they thought. My bad!
It was hard back then to get people together to take a stand on legalization. Cops were arresting stoners and sending them away for as much as 15 years. Near about everybody puffed the magic dragon but we inhaled the heavenly herb hidden in corners or behind trees and the like. We ruined many a buzz straining hard to look not stoned and we came up with very creative ways to hide our baggies of bliss. Punishment for enjoying a joint was pretty harsh and no one wanted to get locked up in jail with rapists, child molesters, murderers, mother-humpers, father-humpers, or any violent shits.
But god damn it man we were the generation that lifted protesting to an art form. So a bunch of us got together and formed a think tank to come up with some ideas for a proper protest rally. Once together the first thing we did was light one up. A soon as soon as we got tanked in the tank we were able to think clearly. Sort of. It was T-Bone that came up with the best idea. A hunger strike for the legalization of marijuana. Brilliance to the tenth degree. We smoked another J to celebrate and decided we would start the strike tomorrow. Right now we needed to find a box of Devil Dogs.
The next day we started the strike in the cafeteria in school at 12:15. No eating until pot is legal, or at least decriminalized. Some more of our friends joined in and before long we had a band of 25 stoners all starving ourselves in protest. The movement was growing so we snuck out side and lit up a few bowls. When we returned to the cafeteria we were all smiles, or shits and giggles whatever that means. Its now 12:45 and we had a full fledged protest going on. The bell rang at 1 o’clock and in force we all walked out of school in unison bound by the determination of changing the culture surrounding that magnificent Mary Jane. We were now 40 strong all stoked up on determination and a shitload of THC! At 1:10 an ice cream truck passed by ringing a bell and like Pavlov’s dogs the majority of protesters began to salivate and then chased after the truck in search of some sweet munchables. Feeling dejected and deserted we were now only five left standing strong to make pot legal. T-Bone suggested we jump in the car and head to 7-11 for a box of Devil Dogs and by 1:20 the hunger strike was officially over.
We protested many things back in the day, Viet Nam war, nuclear weapon disarmament, civil rights and a whole slew of unethical activities that we were forced upon an innocent nation of humans. We arranged sit-ins and rallies of all sorts but we learned one very valuable lesson that day. If you’re smoking pot never-ever for even one second engage in a hunger strike. Oh yea, and always keep an extra box of Devil Dogs nearby cuz ya never know when you’ll be attacked by the munchies on a Devil Dog Day afternoon…PEACE