Where Has All The Flour Gone? (Dealing with post baking blues)


Where has all the flour gone ,long time passing?
Where has all the flour gone, long time sifting?
Where have all my bakers gone
Scooped the bins everyone
Oh when will they ever learn
Oven makes the flour burn
(Pedro, Paula, and Marty, by bakers)

Finished the annual turkey an fixins, polished off all the Beaujolais Nouveau, had some leftovers, an checked the highlights from the traditional Thanksgiving sport, Mixed Martial Arts Shopping. Since Tueay morning we have been baking our asses off. Pumpkin breads, a variety of pies and cakes, a few thousand cupcakes and the list went on. A marathon of mixing, rolling, scaling, and baking for near about 38 of the 48 hours and now I’m exhausted. And I have post bakematic stress syndrome because all the flour bins and sugar bins have been depleted along with my spirit. The week before thanksgiving had me amped up with so much extra baking that I was on an adrenaline high. But now…..where has all the flour gone?

There’s a huge void in the cupcakery. True I can take a breath before getting re-stoked for the holiday rush still tom come but this day, this black Friday I a blue Friday for me. Bummed that the bakery looks like a war worn battlefield to organize fore the bake off for the holiday. The Hell with holiday, I’m gonna call it what it is for me, PC be damned. Getting ready for the Festivus rush! I should be happy because the airing of grievances, the feats of strength, and all the other peoples holiday rituals will be asking for more cupcakes an baked goods. But something’s wrong! No pumping, no jamming, no looking forward, the Thanksgiving rush has left not only me empty but the containers previously filled with that white powdery gluten riddled product. Where has all the flour gone?

I know, I know, careful what you wish for, when its slow I wish it was buy and when busy slow, and when its cold out I wish it was hot but when its hot and humid I wish it was….Not cold, Hell no! Maybe I wish it was cooler but nothing to do and cold weather sucks way more then too busy or too hot! So I’m miserable now. Not only a flourless kitchen but on top of all that it’s friggen cold as Hell. South Hell Pole to be accurate, which is so cold it makes a guy gonads hibernate in his intestines promising to return only once the heat gets turned on. South Hell Pole is that part of hell often refered to as “A special place in. There’s a special place in hell for him and that’s South Hell Pole. Oh yea it burns like a mother humper in regular hell, near unbearable heat every second of every day, but in South Hell Pole you shiver constantly until your goosebumps have goosebumps and every breath you inhale gives you brain freeze. That’s a special place! On the brighter side, there is flour there.
Therefore I will end all my bitching about how miserable I am and focus on how happy I’ll bee in the next few weeks when I’m sweating off my old ass while breaking in a new one in the kitchen that’s as hot as regular Hell. No more feeling sorry for myself, get up an fill those bins, get those pans ready, and get back to what I do best, baking. I am looking around my beat up kitchen with promise and hope as I head to the storeroom to grab a bag of …..wait…what? No more bags?
Oh woe is me, where has all the flour gone……PEACE

Jack And Dianne Revisited

a jack

Parody sung to Jack and Diane by John Cougar Mellencamp

A little ditty, bout’ Jack an Diane
Two over the hill aged kids livin’ in the heartland
Jack used to be a football star
But now Jack cant see above the dashboard of his car

Suckin’ down prune juice outside the pharmacy
Dianne sat on Jack lap and nearly broke his damn knees
Jack said hey Diane lets wobble over to the shady tree
Its been 15 minutes, and I really must pee.

Oh yea, life goes on
Long after control, of body functions are gone
Say, oh yea, life goes on
Long after the thrill, of using it is gone

Jack sits back, can’t collect his thoughts at this moment
Scratches his head and does his “who was James Dean?”
Well ya know Diane we should do it in the city
Diane says baby, you already past that scene

Oh yea, life goes on
Long after the thrill, of making love is gone
Oh yea, life goes on
But now they got pills so now lets get it on. Now Rock on!

I can’t rock, I can’t roll
Let the nurse come down and save my soul
Hold on to 60, as long as you can
Changes come around real soon
Like depends made for women and man

A little ditty, bout Jack and Diane
Two aging lovers growing together, best they can

Seasons Greed-ing’s


No Virginia, There is no more miracle on 34th street

Thanksgiving is this Thursday and there are some who are seriously in need of your help this year. The disenfranchised franchises of retail stores. Due to “calendar irregularities” the shopping season is six days shorter than usual which may force several CEO’s of major retail stores to cut back on their caviar this year, or worse, be forced to get their children practical gifts this holiday season. But that’s not what worries them most, they’re real concern is about us, the hard working shopping public. That’s why these stores, Macy’s, Wal-Mart, JC Penny (they are personally responsible for keeping the JC in Jesus Christ-mas),K-Mart, Target, Old Navy, Kohls, and Macy’s will have someone ready to wait on you in their stores Thursday. I know I mentioned Macy’s twice but their underpaid accountants project that the stores profits may sink below 40% this year meaning its gains may be less than 6 ½ billion by years end. So taking into account that combined with their concern about you and your family get to-gethers I felt they deserve extra mention. Anyway, I’m asking you to show your support for these struggling companies who are so desperate they are willing to force their low level underpaid staff to get off their lazy asses and get into work on a family holiday. Go shop, to Hell with family. Thank you CEO’s, your generosity borders on patriotic.

So please don’t make plans to stay at home with your family this Thanksgiving, help the CEO’ sit proud in their boardrooms. Open your hearts and your wallets and pull out your credit cards and spend the day (as well as all the money you have, plus some you don’t have yet) the way the Pilgrims would have if they hadn’t been so busy sharing food with Americans. Maybe they did, maybe history is wrong and it wasn’t a feast but a flea market where the Native Americans traded the foods they farmed and the game they slaughtered for whatever the Pilgrims put up for sale. Designer feather headdresses at Gimme-Mart, Cooking pots from The Cellar at Mayflower Stores, trinkets from WM Penn-iless, or the latest in colonial technology from Pilgrims Plug In. So maybe these generous companies aren’t just trying to make huge profits on the backs of their minimum wage employees, maybe they are merely celebrating in the true spirit of Thanksgiving by opening their stores the way the Pilgrims did for the natives. So be patriotic, forgo family fun, get out to the stores and spend spend spend. Not spend time with family, spend your money so the CEO’s can comfortably spend the day with their families, with caviar, extravagant gifts and all. You can get the whole family together for a day of love and sharing any time, but the sales only last for a limited time. While supply last. I don’t know about you but I sure don’t want to be the one to deprive big business of an opportunity to make a few million in profit, that’s downright inhumane. To hell with family, get out there and do the right thing, shop till you drop.

This year we all have a chance to make a difference and get a good jump on our holiday shopping instead of connecting with the ones we love. Be thankful? For what, we deserve what we get! Sure there are thousands of our fellow American who are homeless and starving but people will always go hungry in our country, that’s just how we roll. Besides, I have no clue what their circumstances are but they no doubt brought it on themselves by being lazy waiting for handouts. Screw them, they can have all the empty cardboard boxes after Christmas. Or you can be one of those liberal so good protesters who vow they won’t shop this Thanksgiving day because they’re outraged at the way the company shows distain to the lower classes. Truth is the companies don’t give a shit about the protests, they know your as addicted to spending money as they are addicted to stockpiling it. Their focus groups show we’ll just spend the money in their store on another day and within three years time we will all be so used to stores opening on Thanksgiving the magic behind the holiday will fall prey to commercialism just like Christmas has. By this time three years from now the day will become juts another holiday we can stretch into a 5 ay weekend to get drunk, watch football, and go shopping, because we all know there aren’t enough Sundays to do that in regular football season…

As for me, I‘m going to spend the day as I usually do, inviting family and friends over for a fanfuukkentastic meal, awesome wine and beer, and great conversations. At 12 noon I will stop everything for a half hour while I listen to Alice’s Restaurant Massacre, a hippie tradition I have held up since 1971, and reflect on all the wonderful people that have had passed through my life. If you shopping is part of your tradition go for it, its your option, but consider first to take one moment in time, one day of the year in which no one gives a shit about politics, religion, or any other distractions that seem to rule our lives and put all the garbage aside to appreciate how much we love, and how much we are loved. Love, Peace, and Hope. You can’t find that on sale anywhere but if you really want it anyone can afford it ….PEACE

Reeling In The Years


That’s right, reeling. Reeling And a rocking, rolling till the break of dawn. That’s me! Actually its more like creaking and a cracking, falling till the break of bones. WTF? What’s happening to my body, when did all this shit all sneak up on me? Many words and phrases seemed innocuous but these days when I hear dig it I have grave concern. Buried in my work, quite an undertaking, dying to go there, drop dead gorgeous, all common phrases which now give me pause. But don’t pause too long, pour yourself a stiff one! Here’s what started this gloomy thought process. A snot nosed brat said scuse me gramps the other day and I was pissed. I was like who the Hell does that little jerk think he’s calling Gramps? But then I remembered…. I am a Gramps. I’m a fucking granpa! I have grandkids??!! How? When? Not possible! I still like to rock an roll, I’m just as fit as I used to be. Okay maybe not as fit, but my clothes still fit. Okay, maybe I have grown a few sizes and had to buy bigger belts and shit, but I can still rock and roll all night and party every day. So long as all night ends by midnight and partying every day begins sometime after five. Holy shit man, WTF has happened?
Its called the declining years for a reason. Everything declines downhill. It sneaks up on you, hitting your legs first. One day I’m running to catch the bus and an going slower than I should. When I just barely make it I think, Goddamn I’m out of breath. And my thighs and knees hurt. It was a struggle to chase the damn bus. Shake it off, its nothing, must be the weather. Its raining after all, and the rain does weird things to peoples bones. Yea, that’s it, the rain. With a sense of relief I wipe my face dry when something else occurs to me. There isn’t nearly as much hair to dry! WTF? When did my hair get so thin? And how did my forehead grow so big? It goes up so high I can’t see where t my temples are. Its like one big mass of lumpy hairless scalp halfway up my head!. OY, the decline is starting.
Then one day my indigestion seems harsher than normal. Wait, What?? Normal? WTF? When did indigestion become a normal occurrence for me? And now I have a baseline to follow? What happened? Here’s what happened, my digestive system has been working overtime for years, battling all the beer, wine and booze, chips, fried food, Mexican foods, Thai foods, donuts, cupcakes (shameless plug), an every other substance I carelessly forced down my intestinal tracts. Years of hard work!! And now its pissed off. My intestines are mad as Hell and they’re not gonna take it anymore. Time for some gastro-intestinal karma, exacting some revenge via my stomach. Best served cold means swallowing Zantac with cold water, and chewing Rolaids like candy on a daily basis. Too late for apologizing to the stomach, the damage is done. Apparently drinking lots of milk to line the stomach before an evening of heavy drinking was bullshit, and my stomach is liver. I mean livid!
Hair falling out, running ability compromised, and now daily stomach issues. How much worse can it get? Okay, time to go to CVS and find something that will slow down this aging process. Here we go, aisle 6. I grab a box of Lifetime Youth Glow something or other. Lets see what’s in here. WTF? Why did they make the lettering so small and blurry? Maybe if I put it a bit closer. Nope. Maybe under the light? Nope! I pick up the box next to it and can’t read that either. WTF has happened to my eyes? The writings not smaller my eyes have gotten cloudy. I look across to aisle 10 where they have a rack of cheater reading glasses. That’s it, that’s all I need, a pair of magnifying glasses so I can read the small writing. I’ll start with something low, like 1.25, that’s the lowest. They don’t look horrible and if I only need them for reading then these should be all right. Where’s the chart? WTF? The chart is blurry too? 1.50. Better, but maybe 1.75, perfect. Jeez Louize, 1.75? Whatever. Two weeks later I’m back looking at the 200+ with a case because I need to bring the fucking things with me everywhere I go. WTF?
I said to Maureen, “could this get any worse?” She didn’t answer. A bit louder, “Can this get any worse?” Come on now, I need someone to make me feel not old, so one more time this time real loud, “CAN IT GET ANY WORSE?” My answer? “For the third time! What the fuck are you talking about?” OMFG! My hearing now? Did I really not hear her the first two times? Maybe she was speaking away from me? Yea, that’s it, it’s the acoustics! I didn’t hear because she didn’t project AT me. But I bought some extra Q Tips just in case. Now if I can only remember where they are.
Yea right! Remember! That’s on the way out too. Hell I can remember an incident back 5 years ago pretty well but don’t ask me what I had for dinner last night, cuz I don’t remember. Dude Where’s My Car has become my reality. Let me review, instead of rolling joints my joints ache, and creak, and snap crackle pop. My skin isn’t tight enough to fit my body and it leaves wrinkles no iron can flatten out. The only thing that gets wasted anymore is my waistline and even with a belt nothing fits right anymore. I need to plan any road trips around bathrooms because while my bladder hasn’t physically shrunk it seems to get much more impatient and desperate than it used too. I can’t see or hear good but that doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t remember what I saw or heard anyway. I don’t go out but my back does and by the time the last candle on my birthday cake is lit the first one is a blob of melted wax. Shit man if I do eat the cake I get indigestion, which has a baseline. Speaking of bass lines, music that used to be classic rock is now golden oldies and golden oldies are now Fossil Rock. Does aging gracefully mean I don‘t pee when I sneeze so I don‘t really need a diaper? Depends!
Whatever, the big-bottom line is I am getting really concerned about all this because there’s only two things I can think of left to lose, sex and sanity. If worse comes to worst a little pill from the Doc will solidify one problem, that won’t be hard, er, well, yes it will be hard but it won’t be…. you know what I mean! At this point I need to worry more about dementia, about becoming senile. I can fix the penile but senile is another story. I know what senile is, I worked in a Nursing Home for many years and I witnessed a lot of senile patients. Wandering around not knowing where they’re going or why, stopping and talking about random things then forgetting what they were saying, concerned only about what’s for dinner. I can only assume senility is the next step. That sux! …..Or does it? Now that I think about it, those patients were happy walking around doing the Thorazine Shuffle like they were so stoned they didn’t know where they were. Is that senility? Totally stoned all the time, worrying about nothing but what’s to eat, and not being accountable for my actions? Kinda like the old days when we smoked weed by the ounce then went to 7-11. Not feeling quite so bad now, pills to keep me digesting, pills to keep me going, pills to keep me up, maybe some pills to make me feel stoned all day and not responsible for any thing I do or say? WTF, bring it on senility, give me a few extra bong hits of the shit!! PEACE




I was fortunate enough to see Pat Benatar and Neil Giraldo the other night. Patty didn’t need to wear a dress of dead fish or turkey fat, she didn’t have to French kiss a hammer while humping a foam finger, no sound altering microphones or computer generated sounds, no lowering down from the ceiling dressed in some elaborate masquerade attire or riding on a wrecking ball in a feeble attempt to be sexy, no bells no whistles, just plain good old fashioned down to earth rock and roll.. And it was powerful!
Patty was wearing tight black pants an a black leather jacket and looked amazing. Neil wore his trademark cuffed jeans and spats. The acoustics were not the best I’ve ever heard but Patty’s voice was strong and powerful, even though working through a cold. Neil’s guitar work sizzled as always and in the show the stopped and talked to the audience and made it as intimate as was possible in a large theater. They played many of their fan favorites lasting an hour an a half of non stop rock an roll mixed with stories and questions. They came on for an encore an another trademark, Heartbreaker and Ring Of Fire. Amazing talent and amazing tenacity made for a pure rock and roll concert with no frills.
Rock an Roll is overloaded with novelty acts covering up the fact that half the artists lack real talent or credibility to entertain on their merits. Computer enhanced or image altering technology allow kids to scream at marginally talented artists whose only genuine trait is likeability, juts like the popular kids in high school. There are some talented rock groups around today but you really have to search for them through a maze of plasticity and silicone of all types. Back in the day artists inspired us by breathing life into their voices, guitars, keyboards, horns, and drums and giving their songs emotions. Concerts whipped us into frenzy’s by being loud, precise, and creative. Mot of today’s empty acts try to out shock each other to entertain. Sorry young ones but you can keep your bullshit versions of rock, I still like that old time rock and roll, the kinda music just soothes the soul ……PEACE

Sinner Ella, beneath the silver slipper


A Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tale
J.T. Hilltop

What’s the deal with the story of a young chick who is tossed into servitude to her jealous step sisters and overbearing step Mom who magically transforms a pumpkin into a coach and herself into a diva to seduce a rich prince, then fleeing when time catches up with her. Not only that, she happens to leave behind a slipper luring the prince into a kingdom wide search for the fantasy woman’s foot who will fill that slipper. Lost slipper? Please! More like some Jimmy Choo”s Come hump me pumps she wore to entice Princey boy. Prince have a shoe fetish maybe? What kind of trickery is used to make mice look like horses? Who is this Fairy Godmother and why did the repo-man show up at midnight? Only the sick bastard can answer these poignant questions so here is JT Hilltops version of events from his “Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tales.” I’m here to unravel the salacious subplot and reveal the half truths of this sacred story. Salacious indeed, the true tale, or should I say tail, has what it takes to rise up beyond your horny expectations. I hope to make it stand up in court and render an explosive climactic verdict. Open wide!

There’s many versions of this sordid tale but the most well known and accepted by far is the version told by our old pal and inspiration behind theme parkery Walter Disney. So that can only mean its true ergo that’s where the sick bastard will begin to take the treasured tale and twist it into a warped shell of itself. This isn’t the fairy tale your mama read you at bedtime, this is the story of the not so innocent Sinner Ella, the shapely and strikingly beautiful high heeled seductress with a secret helper and a gift of satisfying the most voracious sexual appetite that give her a much needed advantage …With a Wham Bam Whatta Slam Bibbitty Bobbity Bada Bing Bada Boo!

Once upon a bunch of thyme the 21 year old gorgeous Ella Fuchs was a good cook and sandwich maker who understood the value of a well placed sexual favor. In and out of church she was known as Sinner Ella and her list of sexual accomplishments earned her the coveted “Peoples Choice of Jumbo Golden Globes Award.” Her home movies, be they consensually filmed or secretly filmed received an XXX rating. She used her sensual piercing cobalt eyes and thick alluring lips to render her an advantage with just about everyone. Just about. Her sexual antics seldom worked at the home in which she lived with her frigid old step-mother, Lady Tremaine and her two step sisters Drizzle and Anna Sthesia who could best be described as…..well, homely. They were jealous of Sinner Ella because as a child the pretty Ella had won Bare Naked Toddlers and Tiara’s one year and was headed for fame and fortune in the erotic film industry. That is until her Mom, Clover Honeybear Boobaleeboo passed away leaving her alone with her father. The old boy didn’t trust himself around his sensuous daughter so he married Lady T. to help raise her and prevent him from a life of incestuous scandal. One night he went out for a pack of cigarettes and never returned. Poor Ella was forced to live a subservient lifestyle to the step sisters and step Mom. Sinner Ella prayed that one day someone rich would come by so she could use her oral wiles on him to get him to take her away. It was a sad situation but Sinner was sure that she could lick the problem.

Lady Tremaine was concerned about the competition Ella would give her own daughters so she destroyed all of Ella’s sexy gowns and threw away all her shoes. All except the one pair that Ella had hidden away, her no fail Jimmy Choo come and get me pumps with the spike heel and ankle straps. Sinner had seduced many a man and a half dozen women using her hump inducing pumps and she knew some day they would once again tickle the libido of someone who could free her from her circumstance. Some day!

“Ella you slut make us something to eat and don’t forget to feed Lucifer.” Drizzle seemed to enjoy ordering her slave girl around but Anne Sthesia was a tad more nice, knowing that Ella had a skillful tongue. Anna called from the bathroom, “Sinner, I need a towel to dry off.” Ella knew what that meant, it was more like a moistening up than a drying off. She put some chicken in the oven, fed the cat Lucifer, then headed up to the bathroom with a load of clean and folded towels. “Put the towels down and come lick me.” Anna was sitting on the edge of the tub so Ella put the towels in the cupboard and knelt down between Anna’s knees. She gently rubbed the inside of Anna’s soft white thighs. She hadn’t even been in the shower yet. Ella traced large circles around Anna’s thighs using her soft carnal touch making Anna breath hard before bending her head forward to allow her tongue to go to work, hungrily lapping Anna’s vajayjay paying extreme attention to her clitoris. Ella knew exactly where to touch Anna who was gyrating her hips around Ella’s long curly blond hair letting out a soft “Ohhhh my” Ella’s instincts took over and she expertly plied her tongue in and out of Anna vigorously as Anna’s moans got louder and louder until she climaxed. “Oh my God Anna, come bathe with me.” The two set in the warm water as Ella tenderly washed every inch of Anna’s body with soap as well as tongue. No sooner had she finished bathing her when Drizzle’s voice screeched out, “Maaaaa. They’re doing it again and she’s gonna burn lunch!”

Sinner Ella quickly jumped up from the tub, dried off and ran down to the kitchen where Lady T was waiting, face all scrunched up in a scowl. “God damn you little bitch you’ll be the death of us all. Keep your slutty girlie sex shit to yourself you dyke and finish cleaning up this house. I’m taking the girls shopping to get gowns for the Princes Ball on Saturday. You make sure all the chores are done and maybe I’ll let you go too.” Ella smiled to herself dreaming that she could dance with anyone let alone a Prince, but she also doubted it would ever happen. Nothing good ever happened to Ella since her father abandoned her. She worried the only dancing she would ever be involved in was pole dancing or lap dancing at the “Daddy Issues Naked Titty Bar” in town. She obeyed finishing the chicken lunch and served it to the three bitches that were ruining her life. After lunch Lady T took them out shopping while Sinner Ella alone in the house danced with a broom pretending it was a man. She then used that man to sweep up all the floors, plus she cleaned the dishes and straightened out the living room. She looked over at the three piles of dirty clothes thinking her chores would never end.

While scrubbing the kitchen floor Ella heard the three shopping ladies come home all excited. “Come Sinner Ella, come see what we got for the Princes ball.” Drizzle held up a spectacular Ann Tyler Blue sequined full length gown with a long slit up the thigh. “Ewww Mommie, I like! I bet that Prince will want to do me right there on the dance floor.” She then opened a shoe box, “Especially when he see’s my sexy self in these black leather Prada’s here.” Sinners heart sunk, the shoes were remarkable. Patent leather Saffiano pumps in Nero black with two and a half inch heels. A shiny pointed toe shoe that would reveal just the right amount of toe cleavage. Sexy yet sensible they were quite hot, but still nothing compared to Ella’s erection enticing Jimmy Choo’s. If only she could wear them to the ball and dance with the Prince. If only! Then Anna held up her gown, a fiery red Jovani full length sleeveless V neck sure to highlight her more than ample cleavage. She would surely look super sexy in that number, but worse, on top of that she would be wearing silver Manolo Blahnik’s with open toe and jeweled bows. With nearly four inch heels they came pretty close to Ella’ shoes. “Ewwww, I’m gonna look hot. The hell with the Prince, I want to do the Princes sister.” Lady T slapped her daughter, “You better get that lesbian shit out of your head right now. That’s for little trampy cunts like Ella! Get to church tomorrow and pray away the gay!” At first Anna objected, “But Mommy dearest,” then thinking the better of it just said, “You’re right Mommy, I’ll go to church.” But the telling glance she gave Ella let them all know that church or no church no gay was gonna
be getting prayed away . She is what she is.

Still believing her Dad would one day return it surprised Ella when Lady T showed off her newly bought wardrobe as well. Lady T held up a sexy black appliqué cocktail ball dress that would reveal almost all of her legs leaving very little to the imagination. Spaghetti straps would allow most of her smooth skinned back and breast to show freely and the sheer full length see through lace bottom made it one of the sexiest dresses Ella had ever seen. But the killer was when she pulled out a pair of shoes from the shoebox. Coal black Ostrich teazers with six inch spike heels with zipper up and straps to criss cross up her calves. Ella was stunned, shoes that rivaled her very own hump me pumps. Sinner Ella hid the tears that were sneaking down her cheeks and left to her room as Lady T bragged, “You ladies may have youth on your side but I’m gonna fuck that Prince’s brains and wallet right into the castle with this number. I’ll have that young stud screaming my name from between my thighs begging for more. I’ll show you how to bring the sexy girls, just you watch your cougar Mom tie a leash around his royal shlong! Get ready for a new Daddy girls, Mama T is brining sexy back!”

Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of Sinner Ella

Behind The Music, Stonehenge Stock , 420 BC (intro)


Behind The Music, Stonehenge Stock , 420 BC
J.T. Hilltop

Woodstock is considered to be the first ever mass gathering of a rock an roll concert although many, myself included would argue it began at The Monterey Pop Festival during the summer of love. But recent discoveries by archeologist show that we are all wrong, the true first weekend of peace love and music was put on by the Pagans in the UK at a place called Stonehenge in 420 BC. Back then it wasn’t called rock and roll, it was called stone and stumble and it was part of their counter culture. Take this recently found papyrus music sheet with song lyric scribed for the popular Pagan harmonizing genius’s Crossbow, Whiskystills, and Nash-hash:
I came upon a child in the fields
Whilst walking along the path
I enquired “where dost thou walk to”
And this is what he told me
I walk along to Maximus Yasgurwoods farm
To join in a stone and stumble band
Set our camp along the henge
To seteth thy soul free
Thou art starburst
Thou art goldstone
And we gots to plant ourselves back in our garden

By the time we got to Stonehenge
We were a couple thousand strong
And everywhere was song and celebration
And I dreamed I saw a sun god
Riding shotgun in the sky
And we all turned into whippoorwills
Above the nation

This relic was found with other ancient artifacts including a lute played by Jimi Henbicks and a clown nose belonging to Wavy-Ravey leading scientists to believe that Stonehenge was indeed built as a stage for Stone and Stumble bands across the UK back in the day. WAY back in the day, 420BC, The Flintstone years, 10 million strong…. and growing. The Stoners Age when Bedrockpalooza and Occupy Rock Quarry were popular. Archeologists now believe that the Stonehenge ruins are all that’s left of an enormous soundstage which played to thousands of young partying Pagans, some who danced naked and took to frolicking openly, many while under the influence of barleycorn weed, a popular and tasty intoxicant when smoked. That weekend celebration of love, life, and music changed their world forever. Well actually it changed it only until the brutal Roman soldiers invaded the land of Pagans forcing them into chains of Christianity but before that devastating event the only event anyone spoke of was the three days of Love, Peace, and Music (and rain) on Maximus Yasgurwoods sheep farm known as Stonehenge Stock.

Stonehenge Stock was the brainstorm of childhood friends Ian Kellerlay and Declan Mc Intyre of Brea Scarra Off the coast of Scotland. They had the incredible insight to create a venue that could unite all the various music styling’s of the UK. With top acts like the blues singer Janus, Canned Campfire, Dublin Bay Dirtwater Revival, Countryside Joe McDougle and the fish, Worcestershire Zeppelin, The Ungracious Dead, Jefferson Chariot, The Immobile Stones, and The Salisbury Hill Stompers, nine music scenes in all would be represented. Each of the nine music scenes were represented by a giant stone indicative of its region. Represent!

The festival lasted three days and nights showcasing some 30 Stone and Stumble acts to almost 40,000 jubilant attendees. The crowd was so large the New English Chariot Thru-way was closed. Lotta freaks man! Tremendous efforts were made to feed the crowds, nearly 500 pounds of haggis was consumed. Breakfast in bed! Two children were born, a number of rug burns and other rug related casualties occurred, and one person died but all in all the festival was considered a huge success. Or disaster, depending which news media you listen to. This is Behind The Music, the truth behind Stonehenge Stock 420BC, The three part series presented by Be My Bud, the leaders in the legal marijuana industry
Tune in Next Friday for part I

Transcendental Medication, episode IV


Warning sexually graphic and explicit material. Seriously, if you can’t handle it blatantly erotic then…… I’d turn back if I were you

Previously on TM

I jumped in and rowed like a maniacal teen about to lose his virginity towards whatever waited for me across the pond. When I got there the other side it was even more amazing than I thought possible.

Not a nurse, not a dominatrix, not even an exotic island native woman, but that gorgeous hazel eyed enticing beautiful woman from my first visit dressed as if for a date “I’m so glad you chose to come back JT, I am Ambrosina. I’ve been waiting for you. Come to me.”

IV Waking the Seed
J.T. Hilltop

My entire body trembled in anticipation. I felt my groin throbbing, blood coursing through every fiber. She had let her coal black hair down and it flowed effortlessly over her bare shoulders and milky white arms. Ambrosina allowed an inch and a half of cleavage escape the partially unbuttoned bright red shirt that competed with enticing red lips. The competition didn’t end there as a very short silky black skirt barely covered her long muscular legs that exposed just enough bone structure. Bare legged with high spiked heel super sexy strappy shoes attesting to the fact that he was perfect from head to toe. Everything about her screamed “Come Fuck Me” I stuttered, “A-A Ambrosina? Hi, I’m, I mean, well you know me, and I think, I mean I would love to get to know you. You, you’re a, you’re so very, um, so very” Ambrosina cut me off allowing me an escape from my awkwardness. “Hot JT? Come on, you can do better than that. I know what you’re here for and I’m here ready to give it to you so why not come on over here and get it? Then we can get acquainted.”
Full scale trembling now, awkward an understatement. I proceeded towards her and she opened her arms inviting me to come close to her. My eyes were drawn instantly to her smooth round breasts reaching out of her blouse. When we embraced I had already reached the point of full erection and it was not unnoticed. Ambrosina smiled and gently grinded her hips so delicately and sensuously I was afraid I might let it go in an instant but instead I grinded back just as sensuously surprising myself. Her full red lips parted allowing an “ohhhh” to sneak out. My mouth made its way directly to hers as we clenched each others mouths in passionate desperation allowing our tongues to writhe together hungrily. We exchanged mmmmm’s an ahhhh’s, words being an afterthought. My left hand went up under her blouse and found its way to her supple soft breast. So perfectly round and smooth I massaged it gently squeezing an erect nipple in my fingers. I bent my knee and gently rubbed my thigh between her legs extracting the response I hoped for. With my right hand I unbuttoned what was left of her blouse, removed it completely and gave both of her perfect breasts my undivided attention. I gently squeezed her large an erect nipples and she responded in a purring sound her hand encompassing my penis through my pants. Very gently she traced her long nails up and down my cock sending me into near shock ecstasy. “Oh my JT, seems something here is ready, why don’t you take off you clothes and let me show you what you want?”
Fully naked I laid down on a soft bed of sand and Ambrosina stood over me straddling my hips still in heels and skirt. She squatted down over me barely touching my erection with soft pubic hairs. No panties, oh my god could this get any better. She knelt over me holing my erect penis between her fingers and passionately kissed me. “Are you going to get undressed too?” She threw her skirt off, put her full lips up to my ear and whispered softly, “Everything but the heels honey, the shoes stay on. I want you to feel my shoes on your face when you fuck me.” I think I gulped loudly but I was slightly dizzy. She had let go of my dick so she could kiss my chest working her way down my stomach. Once she got to my crotch she regained hand control of me and kissed the head of my throbbing erection. “I want to hear you beg me JT, I want to hear you plead for me to fuck you.” her mouth covered the tip of my dick ever so slowly began to descend. About a quarter of the way down she stopped ,swirling her tongue all over the head. Up an down halfway softly slurping and humming Uh huh uh huh bringing me perilously close to cumming. I blurted it out, “Please fuck me Ambrosina” but she stopped sucking, looked at me teasingly with those magnificent hazel eyes simply saying, “not yet baby, not yet.” She straddled my head squeezing it with thick hard thigh muscle then plunged a damp pussy to my lips. Instantly my tongue explored as deeply as possible and I reached one hand around her ass and with the other tried to rub her clitoris. “Make me cum JT, I want to cum on your lips.” She gyrated her pussy in circles around my greedy mouth while I feverishly shoved my tongue in and out of her all the time rubbing her clitoris. She let me know how effective I was, “Oh god baby yes, yes yes yes, don’t stop, don’t stop” getting louder and more desperate by the second. I obliged with my tongue and finger working her to a screaming orgasm. Her hips shook my face dripping warm love juice all over my mouth.
The two of us now panting and breathless were not close to being done. Ambrosina returned the attention of her lips to my still throbbing dick this time engulfing it fully. She removed her mouth and stroked me gently with the perfect amount of tease to keep me hungry but not allowing me to come. She got on top of me and again straddled my groin with her hips, inserting the tip of my rod into her dripping wet pussy. She moved up and down slow and deliberate allowing just an inch of me inside her. I had no idea what was keeping me from exploding semen into Ambrosina but she had somehow held me off. “You want me to fuck you all the way baby? Or maybe I’ll just fuck the tip?” Ambrosina bounced lightly up and down allowing just the tip of my manhood inside. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure as I squirmed attempting to thrust deep upwards, “All the way babe, all the way. Fuck me Ambrosina, please fuck me.” She stopped moving up and down and wriggled teasingly, “Not yet hon, a little more playing.” She continued moving up and down my pulsating cock and I tried desperately to thrust deep up into her. She reached around cupping my balls. I was ready to explode when she squeezed them tightly and came to an abrupt stop. She wriggled her groin into mine and I began begging, “please Ambrosina, please, whatever you want, I’ll be whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me cum inside you. I need you so badly, please!” She smiled got up off of me and came up to kiss me. I have never kissed anyone with so much desperation and abandon before. We embraced rolling around until she was beneath me with her long legs spread. “Come fuck me JT. I want you to fuck me.” I got on top of her, with a smooth hand she guided my cock inside her. I began pumping feverishly wanting to explode myself deep into her sweet love button but she placed her hands on my hips. “Long and slow honey, fuck me long and slow. I want to feel every inch of your big dick inside me.” As I was told I pumped slowly letting the entire length of my cock go slowly. I felt her muscles tighten around my member as I slowly allowed it inside her feeling our pubic hairs entwine. Then slowly back out all the way to the tip again. I penetrated her about ten times more like this, feeling every stroke, every nuance of love before I could wait no longer. She stretched her legs upwards her feet and sexy shoes squeezing my ears gently touching my forehead with her toes. “Kiss my toes and fuck me hard.” Again I did as I was told fucking her hard and sucking her toes as her heels dug lightly into my cheeks. I kissed the leather pumps and unbuckled the ankle straps. I couldn’t hold back anymore, paying so much tender attention to her feet had pushed me over the edge. I felt my sperm explode from my toes all the way through my body filling her with what felt like a quart of love juice, all the time still kissing and licking her toes and foot arches as she squealed with delight. I could feel her cumming again too and although drained I continued in and out of her for another two minutes before I collapsed.
“JT that was amazing, you did a fantastic job. You‘re almost done.” That was all we spoke as we both tried desperately to catch our breath. My chest heaved for ten minutes before I regained any inkling of composure. Ambrosina lay her head on my chest with her arm across my shoulder and life was unbelievably good. Twenty minutes passed when I felt her moving down towards my spent dick. She took me in her mouth brining me back to life expertly. We went at it again with her making the same requests, making me beg, this time kissing and stroking her bare feet and taking total control of me. I obeyed happily. She smiled at me then told me our next lesson would be the opposite.
I wasn’t sure what she meant but I was willing to find out as I lay in the sand totally exhausted, happy, and satisfied beyond belief. The smile on my face was so enormous my jawbone ached and my eyes were nearly closed. Ambrosina began gently shaking my shoulder apparently ready to go one more time but I was spent. I looked up saying, ?”Sorry babe I just could….oh, Dr. Kha, its you! ” God damn its confusing slipping in an out of realities here! Dr, Kha stood over me with a smirk, “I see you make visit to paradise JT. Must be careful not to get too wrapped up in desires, make you feel good but also cloud judgment. But she teach you secret of desire not me, I teach you everything about nothing. If you want see opposite universe it take much more than acupuncture, incense, and meditation, you needa transcendental medication. Tomorrow put you in sensory depravation tank with special punctures dipped in mixture of essences from Belladonna, Angel Trumpet, and Nutmeg Paste. Essence free mind and allow to see without eyes. Transcendental medication. Ownry then JT will you see truth, opposite universe, and maybe even understand nothing. Get some rest my boy, tomorrow is day you meet God face to face.”

In The Shadow Of The Moon…. Remembering The Dead


In Loving Memory Of My First Grateful Dead Concert
J.T. Hilltop

Lets not get too technical here, maybe I should call it the potential memory of my first Grateful Dead concert because it was after all over 40 years ago, and I was perceptually challenged in a profound way during that era from the fumes of heated cannabis plants and the ingestion of an array of mind altering substances. But its worth a stumble down memory lane just the same so here to the best of my recollection is my most sincere if somewhat warped and faded reflection. This is my account of the surreal experience of the very first of many Grateful Dead shows.

My best bud Kevin and I went to A&S to the Ticketron booth and chipped in to purchase one general admission ticket to see the Grateful Dead at the Nassau Coliseum on Long Island. Even though it was only $6.50 at the time to us that was a lot of money. Over twelve lunch periods of not eating to stash the fifty cents from Mom. Sounds like no big deal but let me tell you not eating lunch when you’re in high school while studying the effects of smoking biodegradable sativa plants resulting in a case of perpetual munchies is quite a sacrifice. Besides that, we needed whatever money we could store away to buy some good pot and maybe a hit or two of something for enhancement. We were planning to weed and speed throughout the concert.

With only one ticket it was time for us to become resourceful and put our high school education to some good use. We took our one ticket to the school library where they had a copy machine which was free for students. Using our deductive reasoning we hatched a plan to copy the back and front of our one ticket. We then took the two pages to art class where we carefully cut the ticket front and back using what looked like an ancient hand guillotine or torture device from the dark ages for a very precise cut. Two sides of this cloned ticket were duco-cemented together. Using the blue and yellow colored pencils we colored in the bogus ticket to make an exact replica. Now we each had a ticket and could use the cash we saved for some buzz.

Neither of us could drive at night because we only had Jr. operators licenses so on the evening of the show we had to hitch a ride to the Coliseum. I was well seasoned at traveling BMT (By My Thumb) and while I wasn’t quite as prolific as say Sissy Hankshaw I usually fared very well at copping rides. It was a different era and hitch hiking was pretty common. Our first ride came quick but was with an off duty cop which sent shivers of paranoia down our spines. He turned out to be really cool and just lectured us a little on behavior of teens, littering, (or was it loitering?) and mundane teen crap. The second ride took a bit longer than we hoped in snagging but it was a lucky hit. We caught a ride with a van load of Deadheads that brought us all the way to the Coliseum laughing and smoking pot the whole ride. Kevin had brought a dime chunk of Blond Lebanese hash and a pipe but he kept that in his pocket. I had a two finger baggie of Hawaiian Gold weed from which I rolled two fat doobies to share with our hosts. By the time we got to the parking lot we all were pretty buzzed, and that’s when Kevin handed me the surprise hit of blotter acid. We were primed and ready to rock and within an hour we would begin tripping. Thanking our ride we split and surfed the lot in search of any friends that may be at the show so we could share our get high.

Having found no one we smoked a bowl or two of Kevin’s hash and went inside, moving quickly so the attendant had no time to inspect our tickets. Once inside it was time to find a place as close to the stage as possible to hear The New Riders Of The Purple Sage. We didn’t work too hard on positioning yet because that struggle would come later when the Dead played. We lit our weed and our hash sharing it with all around us an got lots to smoke from them in return. N.R.P.S. played a great set and Jerry came on playing steel guitar for a few tunes. It was pretty awesome but that’s not what we came for. As their set came close to its end the LSD began its magic by transporting us to another planet both visually and mentally. When the set finally came to its close we were tripping proper and had some time to kill.

We went out to the corridors around the arena to do some people watching which is normally cool, but has a heightened sense of uber coolness at a Dead show. A group of totally tripped out people were doing a trippers version of interpretive dance, making strange gestures that if done anywhere else most assuredly would have gained them admission to the loony bin. People everywhere with unusually huge smiles stuck on their faces talking, sharing one type of get high or another. Whippets, bongs, chamber pipes, chillums, joints, one or two 12 inch joints rolled in an Esmeralda papers, pills, tabs, or chemical laced paper being put in mouths and swallowed. Conversations involving what the boys would play or what they played the evening before at The Fillmore abounded. A communal sense of intense excitement as we all became as one, one group of collective conscientiousness anticipating the start of the real show, what we all came for. After a half hour of watching and chatting with strangers, and some even stranger strangers, it was time to find our spiritual spot inside.

After fifteen minutes of strategic jostling, finding holes in the crowd and slipping in a shoulder or a leg to fill in a void and get closer to the stage we had our sweet spot. Just about center a bit to the right about 20 head lengths from the stage, great cosmic vibe and situated in between the massive speaker system. We staked claim to our territory by lighting some hash and proceeded to engage in copious amounts of smoking and toking, sharing it with all in our magic circle of Dead fans. As the lights dimmed drum beats broke through the crowd buzz and some guitar riffs filtered through the speakers. We were stoked now and the acid was in full flight. The universe was perfectly balance in that arena and everyone inside knew. The music began and it was a collective aura of Zen emanating from the crowd, nary a soul left unstoked nor untoked. I’m not gonna try and bullshit you about remembering the set list, so for the sake of my memorial account I will allow a collage of concerts speak to me as I generalize.

I was very fortunate to have caught the Dead while Pigpen was still with us and right at the onset he stole the show working us into a frenzy. The sound had a raw country edge to it with an accent of blues, Pigpen making his harmonica cry in emotional distress. The arena was dark with rolling flashes or colored lights, red, blue, yellow, purple all splattered about randomly reaching out into the crowds and moving around in huge oval patterns. The lights changed around us making our minds eyes congeal into a spin art of vision. Beach balls, balloons, Frisbees all hovered or soared overhead before moving on in some sort of cosmic endless search. The speaker system was blaring loud yet precise, I could hear and sense every note from every instrument. By the third or fourth song the mood had taken a slight turn as China Cat Sunflower began. Or maybe it was St. Stephan, either way the very moment Jerry hit the first notes my entire essence was sucked into another world. Of course the acid heightened my senses and I was tripping pretty heavy at that moment but Jerry’s guitar work infiltrated my soul and took over my body. Nothing else in the world existed, nothing but this magic pied pipers guitar solo. Jerry’s strings took on life, began breathing and pulsing, inter-twining its spiritually mesmerizing complexities with my hemoglobin and the music flowed freely through my circulatory being, now a part of my DNA leaving me feeling nothing short of ecstatic. Each note etched deeper and deeper into my soul and filled me with a sense of belonging, of completion as I became a small part of a living breathing concert with The Grateful Dead being the heart, pumping us life. I bobbed and writhed to the music along with thousands of other jubilant fans. I looked at Kevin and he was in his zone, oblivious to anything else, and a quick look around revealed a vast array of transfixed smiling faces all finding their very own space in time. The concert had been elevated from just another rock show to the ultimate rock concert.

They played about two hours and I never knew if we were in the middle of one song or at the end of another, and that was because they played songs within songs flowing back and forth as if in parallel dimensions. I can’t be 100% sure but I believe the last tune they played was the hippie anthem “Dancing In The Streets” with their own twist on it. They left the stage with everyone still pumped up an buzzed half out of our minds. The collective culture that pervaded took over our minds and our instincts kicked in as the entire crowd clapped, roared, whistled, and screamed begging for more more more!!!!! The level of our collective accolades escalated quickly to an almost ear shattering level, when the band returned. The screams of pure and genuine gratitude rumbled through my inner ears tickling the hammer and anvil, pounding on my eardrums, and trickling melodically down into my Eustachian tube forcing a good feeling over my soul and once again the band brought the music to life.

That was the first time I had ever heard the song “Morning Dew” and it was a gift of galactic proportions. What I found out later was the tune is about a post apocalyptic walk in the aftermath of rapture and the boys created the most haunting and mesmerizing sound I have ever encountered. It oozed apocalypse before I knew what the tune was about, again Jerry’s strings grabbing me and lifting me to another plane, an audio astral projection of the third, fourth, and fifth kind. It was followed up with a few more tunes as the band treated us to a lengthy encore fittingly ending with “And We Bid You Good-Night” It was an experience that even the most eloquent and descriptive words could barely hint at. One of the unifying chants of Deadheads is “There Is Nothing Like A Grateful Dead Concert” words to live by and I have chanted those words over and over ever since. I couldn’t possibly tell you which Dead show was my favorite but I can tell you this, after years and years of concert going when asked what my favorite show ever was I reply it’s a Grateful Dead concert, which one I’m not sure but definitely The Dead. I’m not an elitist, I love many other bands and artists, and many memorable shows including Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Who, Rolling Stones, and Neil Young, to name a few. I even took my son to some LollaPalooza Tours and a Warped Tour and I have always loved rock and roll and always will. I don’t get to nearly the amount of rock concerts I used to, but I go to as many as I can. Memorable recent shows include the Beach Boys reunion, Waters “The Wall” tour, an Phil Lesh an Friends, but in the end, as anyone who was lucky enough to have been to one Dead concert can attest, “There is nothing like a Grateful Dead concert”…..Peace

da boyz

The House Of The Rising Sons, (the original erector set).


Another sick bastard bible selection

Sodomy and Go More….ahhhh

A tale of two cities mentioned many times in the Bible, the Torah, and the Quran. The history so deep it even makes a few appearances in the new testament. What makes these two cities so popular in religious documents? Sex sells, and the added stories of Sodomy an Go More, ahhh sold the hell, pardon the irony, out of the bible. Where exactly are these cities? Much like the infamous G spot men have been unable to locate the exact area that filled its occupants with so much passionate joy. But the where is not too important, we can be guided there with a skillful partner so today I am focusing on the what. What’s the sick bastards take on this sexually charged tale of orgies and try-sexuality of the legendary iconic bible selling segment of the scriptures. This is the story of The Rising Sons, (the original erector set).

God began sitting on his laurels after his highly successful pairing of Adam and Eve thanks to his inventing Christian mingle.com. The whole Cain and Abel thing worked itself out and he assumed that his flood had eradicated sinning altogether. But you know what happens when you assume, even if the me is god himself. He heard some stories about thee tow cities plagued with sin. To the North in Go More, ahhh, Mayor Farley-Ford ran his city allowing copious amounts of drugs and alcohol to flow freely in the streets. Why the mayor himself was constantly drunk and messed up on whatever drug he could get his hands on, and flew into drunken rages lashing out at anyone and everyone. The streets of this maple tree lined city were filled with stoned out couples pawing at each other sex organs right out in the open. He had heard that it was like one giant orgy so the big guy sent Abraham out to investigate. Abe, being the almighty’s right hand did a hands on, well pretty much every body part on investigation of the two sinning towns.

He stopped first in Sodomy where instead of ravaging young maidens he was molested by a bunch of horny and hung dudes that really stuck it to him. At first he was repulsed but when he turned to the church for help he ended up shagging the priesthood. The whole lot of them plus Lott as well. In sodomy the sex was all mano a mano or bumper to bumper, which is to say they all adorned their gay apparel if you catch my drift. After waking up after an all nighter with a pounding headache and a knob with no more throb Abraham had enough. Time to report back to the big guy, but first a parting blow from his favorite dude, Vegas. Abraham was not worried because what happened in Vegas, well you get it.

So Abe told the lustless lord all about the sinning ways of Sodomy and Go More, ahhh, leaving out the part about his parts. The G-man knew what had to be done. Destroy the getting of some tail of two cities. Of course, being a drama queen, Mrs. God wanted him to come up with a devious plan, so he scheduled a new show, The Real Housewives of the Fertile Crescent. He sent an angel disguised as a man to punk Lot and expose the homo erectus of Sodomy. When the angel came Lot was required by law to protect his guest who was such a hunk even straight dudes took notice. Hungry homo’s surrounded the house which scared the crap out of Lot. Not literally, just really scared him. He offered his two virgin daughters instead which only pissed everyone off, especially Lot’s wife and kids and they gay crowd huffed and puffed and blew the house down. The angel flipped out and struck all the rioters blind and told Lot and his family to leave town and never look back because it was being destroyed.

As they left they could hear the acid rain coming down and knew the city was getting sulphurized. They could hear the cries of agony as the community of multi-sexual sinners burned alive. Lots wife couldn’t help herself, she needed to take a quick photo for instagram, but as she turned around the high and mighty converted her into salt to season the lip of his margarita glass. Lot and his still virgin girls never looked back. After the brim stoning of Sodomy and Go More, ahhh, no one ever doubted the man upstairs again. Repent or burn was the new catchphrase.

That’s all this sick bastard could glean from the internet about the story of these sin cities, so if you have some more info that has not yet been released please contact me so I can up date the Sick Bastards Bible. Thank you, and please, repent before its to late. You never know when the all loving and caring god can have a bad hair day and turn on us with vengeance.