Tag: sarcasm

I Think There’s A Rat In This Bitchin’ Kitchen

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rat

Pot Sink Diaries
I stood proudly over my pot sink ready to clean anything and everything the chef could throw at me. Literally throw. My gastronomic voyage had officially begun and I dove in to the trip with a work ethic beyond reproach. I scrubbed and cleaned pots and pans until my fingers acquired the same status Mother Nature naturally assigns to prunes and raisins. I happily scrubbed and mopped the floors, scoured the ovens, and enthusiastically awaited orders from ….well just about everyone else in the restaurant. No worries I was willing to perform any thankless task sent my way. This night I learned about one of the mysterious qualities found in any great chef. A great Chef has the keen acumen of understanding the dynamics of the driving desire of a young pot washer’s eagerness to please. Jimmy picked up on this rather quickly informing me of a special “time” in restaurants, a time when things were “quiet.” He called it “downtime”. Downtime sounded harmless when I first heard it escape from Jimmy’s lips, and I thought it might be cool. JT my boy” came the words from my illustrious leader, “Ees a little slow tonight. Looksa like a we have some downtime.”
Well I could barely contain myself. An opportunity had arisen for me to show everyone how gracefully I would be able to handle this newfound downtime. It never occurred to me that the word itself could enlighten me as to what may be in store. The Chef planned to put me “down” and keep me “down”, by assigning me an assortment of unmemorable chores that will get me down in the dumps. As for the “time” portion of my endeavor, it actually meant time consuming. Flagrantly left out of the phrase was tedious. It should be called tedious downtime. This inspirational portion of the evening I get to perform seemingly insignificant time consuming tasks. There are various levels of joy associated with downtime tasks. It could range from the somewhat mindless variety peeling 50 – 100 pounds of potatoes, to the absolute joy depleting role of shrimp peeler. Peeling shrimp is somewhat misleading as well, because chef hands you a ginourous pan of shrimp which you are require to clean. Remove the outer shell, put a lice sown the back of the tine morsel of future deliciousness and remove the incredibly objectionable digestive track that looks like small black sludge. Then rinse it and ass it to the other couple hundred shrimps. How many shrimp can people eat anyway. Don’t they know you are what you eat? Inclusive of all these food related tasks, are a mysterious set of non food thankless jobs given the official name of maintenance. I say mysterious, because I could never figure out how washing the Chef’s car in any way contributed to the dining experience. But wash it I did, along with every piece of kitchen equipment, and every floor within a 5 mile radius. On this particular evening, I was mopping the downstairs. A serene and peaceful place where all foods and food products reside to meditate. They remain at the Storage Inn, a kind of bread and breakfast for the grocery set, until they are summoned upstairs to become part of something monumental. In a back room, seldom used, was where I was sent. Upon arrival, my keen observation noted two non-moving members of the family rodentia lying on the floor. Damn they looked gross. Summoning all my energy to keep my dinner where it belonged, I walked into the next room and informed Edwin, the Chefs nephew or “senior potwasher” whose true job and intellect were yet to be determined. He was however, my supervisor and assisting me. His having been here so long gave him a queer aura of authority. “Hey Edwin man, there are two dead rats in the extra room.” Edwin’s English was worse even than Jimmies, and he just repeated what what what and stared at me puzzled. So of course I motioned with my hands as I said very slowly, for some reason believing that would help him understand, “Next ..room….dead ..rats, two of them!” This is too fucking tedious, and I needed a cigarette so I lit up and walked into another room to chill. Seconds later I heard a blood curdling scream followed by a pounding of wood to wood. I ran to Edwin fearing the worst and there he was still screaming and beating those two already dead rats as if they were zombies. Hard as I tried, the sight of Edwin clutching a broom and beating the shit out of two dead rats took over every rational bone in my body and I broke out in a laugh so fricken hard if Jimmy and Didier had seen me upstairs they would have felt like rank amateurs. Tears forced their way across my cheeks like rivulets of saline. I had to hold my stomach and fall to the floor in an epileptic fit of uncontrollable laughter. To date this may have been the funniest thing I had ever seen in my life and I wasn‘t even high. This is restaurant life. Now my mood was great. Hope it lasts.
Just when I thought Ed couldn’t make me laugh any harder he moved into action. At first I was repulsed and grossed out to the max. With his bare fucking hands he grabbed one dead rat in each, looked at me with a dopey smile that had me wondering if he smoked my hash as he said, “Come witta me JT. We godda bigga sue-prize forra da cheff.” With the rats dangling at his sides he climbed up the stairs like happy from the seven dwarfs. When he reached the top he made room for me to stand next to him and he held these two dead god damn rodents as high as his arm would allow and yelled loud enough so the entire kitchen could hear. “Hey Cheff…..Lookit a what we gotta for you soup!” As the chef and company began laughing wildly I looked on in horror. “Jesus shit Ed, you can’t bring thee disease ridden mother fuckers in a kitchen!” Mortified I looked around and everyone was laughing except Laura. Oh Jesus I thought, she’s the only other one grossed out besides me. Jimmy yelled back, “getta Jense inna here, we gotta special entrée tonight.” The laughter continued and Edwin took the rats back downstairs’ and no sooner did he get to the bottom when he tripped and fell letting the rats fly in the wind. I ran down to see if he was okay and he was frozen on the ground looking up in horror. Across the room was our illustrious asshole manager with a face so red I thought the beets were embarrassed. Over one shoulder a dead rat, the other at his feet. His eyes were exploding volcanoes and if had found the dignity to speak it would have flowed a molten lava of pissed off. I had to leave because my head was about to pop from not laughing at the sight and air was forcing its way through my nostrils. I knew if I let my tears of joy flow I would have lost my job, and I was thinking Edwin may already have lost his. I will never forget the look on Didier’s dead rat slapped face.
Damn that was a rough night I thought as I stopped at the corner of my block that had once served as my bus top. I reached to the bottom of my front pocket and pulled out the tiny piece of aluminum foil Ken had left me, then pulled my trusty hash pipe from my other pocket and unraveled the leftover piece of black hash. “One or two more hits before heading home.” As I lit the hash I thought about how funny it was that I was talking to no one, yet it felt like it needed to be said. I held the smoke from this sweet relief in my lungs and smiled at my ritualistic behavior. As I exhaled I let out a chuckle, remembering the dead rat and Ernie beating the shit out of it with that broom. Can’t wait to tell Ken all about it tomorrow. “But for now, one last hit before going inside.”
Feeling like my legs were on their own path and my brain in a downward dog trance I glanced up and saw the lights still on. Fuck, I thought, the old boy is still awake. Man I was hoping to go to my room, put on my headphones and dig on “Aqualung” the new Jethro Tull album I just bought. I took an extra two minutes to get my head together, a few squirts of Visine to “get the red out”, and repeated my little mantra chant that helped me appear not stoned. “Om Mani Pardre not too high, Om not too high” My good mood would not last long.

SNOW PLOW ENVY

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a plow

Dig this, I’m not about ranting over the effects of Global Warming, at least not today, but ya gotta admit the weather across the globe has been pretty friggen strange over the last bunch of years. Take for instance this past snowstorm that had Texans bucking black ice patches instead of wild horses, Nevadans gamble their driving capabilities, and Kentuckians and Tennesseans blaming snow instead of bourbon for their accidents. Here on the NE coastal Tri State area it just dumped an unusual early snowstorm to warn us of whats to come. Superbowl of a blizzard? Maybe, but yesterday all it did was inconvenience us and unleash that major winter headache, amateur snowplow drivers.
All sorts of pick up trucks sporting huge plows on the front to push around snow. A closer look inside these trucks often reveals a small problem. That is to say, a diminutive driver who lacks self confidence using a big plow to compensate for something! Some of these frustrated plowers are so insecure they’ve had their plows hanging out for all to see right through the summer. Look over here ladies, my plow is up an ready. What they may not realize is that while pushing the snow about is somewhat impressive, if you don’t know how to park the plow is only an attachment. No matter what you have, if you can get it into the parking space skillfully the size of the shovel is irrelevant.
Yesterday afternoon I watched as two pick up trucks pulled up alongside each other at a red light. Their face were forlorn, because it was early afternoon and the storm had already dropped its load and the roads were all clear. I couldn’t help but notice how each of them snuck a glance at the others plow. Clear and obvious plow envy! I remember a time way back when one summer after polishing off a number of beers and shots of Jack Daniels out in the Hamptons I meandered into the rest room to repay the beverages I had borrowed from the bar. It was pretty clear I was not a resident, my clothes certainly betrayed the fact that I was not one of the “beautiful people” who often partied in West Hampton. Also clear was the dude standing at the urinal beside me was indeed one of those beautiful people, even his socks looked tailor made. As I took care of business his head tilted slightly to what could only be considered an attempt to catch a glimpse of my equipment. I had to wonder why he was sneaking a peek at my man muscle. Was he comparing his to mine or mine to his? Was he interested in more than just a peek, or was he merely wondering if someone from my side of the tracks had a tell tale mark or different shaped appendage.
Of course that was just young mans penis envy, wondering how to gauge if he was in the ballpark of average penile hang-age or if he was perhaps in the …ah…. larger percentile, which I’m sure was his hope. Sorry to have disappointed him….. Oh wait, I didn’t mean to imply I am larger, I meant that size doesn’t matter. Well it matters to a degree, way too much or way too little may be hard to….ah.. overcome! But like I said earlier, if a guy knows how to park his vehicle properly a smaller car can be just as powerful, effective, and attractive. Apparently however, this rule of …ah….thumb does not apply to the overcompensation crowd. It was a case of dueling plows and I’m not sure what the winner gets and I really don‘t care. Personally, I think its better to concentrate on having the right mud flap anyway….

The Sick Bastards Network presents : The Buck Bone Naked Chef

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naked chef

The hottest new kitchen competition in town
Rated WSC (Warped Sexual Content) Parental discretion advised, in fact, everyone’s discretion

Its hotter than Hells kitchen, bigger and harder than any of the Top Chefs, more dangerous than having it Chopped. Its here and its sure to make the Doughboy rise and pinch Melba‘s peaches. The Buck Bone Naked Chef lets it all hang out in this bare bones competition that leaves no sharpening stone unturned. Watch as three culinary contestants ply their culinary trade in the buff. That’s right, three naked chefs competing for the coveted title of The Buck Bone Naked Chef.
Tonight We’ll see if Jack has what it takes to whip up your soufflé or fall short. Will Destiny get the dough to rise or end up going down? Will Stan fluff his meringue into stiff peaks or take it on the chin. Join our three judges Ben Dover, Hal Apeno, and Helen Back as they choose who’s naked body raises their bar and who goes home fully dressed and unsatisfied…
I’m your host, Hugh Jass so come join me now. First let me introduce our contestants. From Pullet Pennssyvania, Master Chef of “The Back Door”, Jack Mioff. “I’m Jack Mioff and I work 16 hour days so I won’t stop until I’ve given every ounce I have.” …He sure looks like he can go the distance, next here from Deepcavern Nevada , chef Destiny Dancer who heads up the culinary staff at “Swinging On The Maypole” in downtown Twin Peaks, “Me and my girls are coming for you boys, you better be up for it.” ….Hoho, threatening words from a pretty lady. I’m even feeling it,haha. And finally, Stan Duprite, the very popular New York City chef at “The G spot”,.. “ When I pull out my secret weapon it will bring them to their knees.”…. Oh boy, sounds like he’s got more than just a few tricks under his apron, we’re gonna have some very stiff competition tonight. So Let’s get right to it contestants. In the first round we’ll be looking to see what these naked culinary competitors can come up with using the secret ingredients, Zucchini and Oysters. Chef’s, take off your clothes and get to work, you have 20 minutes to pull it off.

Jack has turned on the Hobart 10 gallon mixer ..Oh my god look at him go, he has the mixer on low and he’s rolling his hips in time to the machine. Lets listen in on the judges, “ Hal, it looks to me like he’s hanging A bit too low and….Ohh snap, that had to hurt!”.. “I’ll bet it did Helen, not sure how he’ll get that out of the whisk. I would have used a paddle myself whada you think Ben?” “I don’t know Helen I think the paddle would’ve pulled it just as hard.” “You might be right Ben, but either way he’s gonna have to get that thing out of the mixer.” …. Lets go on over and see what Destiny has working up. Well look at this folks Destiny is giving you viewers quite a treat as she rolls out her dough. That’s some serious bouncing right there, haha. .. Back to the judges, “Holy crap Helen what ees she doing with dat zucchini?” “I can tell you this Hal, the way she is washing that thing the zucchini may come squeaky clean but I can’t wait to see how it makes Stan Duprite deal with the sight, he hasn’t taken his eyes off her.” No kidding Helen, Hal you seem to be staring yourself. I hope they can get back to work..”….. They aren’t kidding folks, Stan hasn’t moved a muscle. Well hasn’t moved a muscle aside from the obvious hanging chad muscle, haha…. Tell you the truth I’m not sure she’s washing the zucchini it looks to me its more like she’ greasing it for something. Lets go see if Chef Duprite has his head back in the game. I see he’s not standing still, he’s just having trouble getting his oysters off. Seems the shell is clamming up him, hahaha. But it looks like all three are making headway. Whoa, hear that bell, 2 minute warning constants, time to wrap things up and start plating for the judges.
While our contestants plate their appetizers lets meet our judges for tonight’s competition. From Mexico, the man who puts then heat in the meat of Mexican food everywhere, Hal Apeno. “Tank a you, tank a you, I am berry pleased to be here.”…Okay Hal. A man of few word, haha, and now the lady who has gone from being a homeless crack addict to restaurant whore, I mean restaurateur, Helen Back. “Hellooo everybody. So nice to be here on Naked Chef Bone. Can’t wait to see all the booty. Heheh, I mean bounty Hugh, not booty, hehehehehe. I‘m just happy to be near you Hugh Jass, teehee”… And I‘m certainly happy to be near you Helen. I can see you have your big cleavage…Oops, hahaha, I mean your big cleaver tonight Helen. Better watch out for my meat, hoho. How much did that monster set you back. Four dollars and ninety cents I think, I gave the guy a five dollar bill and he gave me back two nipples. Oops, heheheheh, I mean I don’t know how much Hugh.” ….No worries Helen, we speak blond here on Sick Bastard Network so we know just what you mean honey. And now our final judge, the man who puts the coarse in intercourse, Ben Dover. “Oh piss off Hugh, when your tip reaches your butt you can just fuck yourself.” … haha, eat shit and live Ben. I see Ben is in rare form tonight so contestants, bring out the dishes. What have you got there Jack?
“Well I got off to a rough start putting too much of myself in the bowl there, but I made autoerotic oysters, Oysters tied around this slice of zucchini bread with smothered onions.“ Mmmm, looks good Jack, lets see what the judges think, Hal? “No very spicy but still she’s a hot, not bad there Jack Mioff, not bad at all.”…All right. Confidence from Hal, not bad at all, Helen? “It feels good going down my throat but its much too big. I like to start off with small mouthfulls.” Okay Helen, well said, how bout my angry friend Ben, what say you? “Piss off Hugh, this looks and tastes like shit.”…Oh no, not much praise from Ben Dover. Next we have the well endowed Destiny. What do you bring to the table Destiny? “I made a dill cake with greased zucchini and raw oyster because they make me horny.”…. Hahaha, I think I’m horny too Destiny, but what about our judges, Hal? “Spicy and hot. I want her.”… Ho ho, I hope you mean it not her, Helen? “I just can’t get that image of her greasing the zucchini out of my head, so slow, up and down, and up and down. I vote for her to do it again. How on earth did you get the bread so tasty Destiny?” “Oh, hehehe, I used fresh dill because fresh dill makes a tasty dill dough.” …. Okay lets not go there, too deep for me, haha, lets move on. Ben? “piss off Hugh, I just want to screw her. I’d like her to Ben Dover, haha.” ….Good enough Ben, good enough, believe it or not that’s big props from Ben Dover. Finally what did you make Stan Duprite? “Well not Ben that for sure Hugh, haha, I made a zucchini pancake with oysters absolut. Vodka glazed oysters with some bacon and Vidalia onion chutney on top.” …Mmmmm sounds delish to me, whadaya think there Hal? “Actually this shit looks good and tastes amazing. Maybe just nees a little hot sauce.” …Another nice compliment from Hal, lets hear what Helen has to say… “My God Stan is hung like a horse. What I’d really like is for Destiny to grease his zucchini, hehe. But I really like the way this whole thing feels in my mouth.” …My that’s a ringing endorsement from the slutty, oops sorry, I mean sultry Helen Back. Now our final judge, Ben?…. Get your head out of your huge ass Hugh, you know this food rocked it. But does he have to keep swinging that humongous sausage around?” ….Well Helen seems to lick it, I mean like it. Contestants, one of you will be eliminated this round lets see who has to get dressed.
Well the judges have spoken. Jack, your zucchini bread was pretty flat but your sticking it in the mixer was entertaining, Destiny, greasing that zucchini was so intense all three judges voted for you to have immunity this round, and Stan, I gotta say, you better not get too hard or there’s gonna be an accident for sure. So the first one to put their clothes back on… Jack Mioff. Sorry jack, get dressed an go back home. “Fuck you guys, this game sucks. I want to slap you Hugh.” …Whoa!! Ha ha, I’m ready for it, go ahead Jack Mioff. There goes one sore loser, but then if I had my beef jammed in the mixer I’d be black and have the blues too. Lets go to the final round. Contestants your ingredients for tonight’s entrée is banana, figs, and pork tenderloin. Destiny, Stan…..get to it, you have thirty two minutes.

Stan is off to a fast start, he has his tenderloin up on the counter and it looks like he’s… massaging it? Oh wait, I see what he’s doing, look at Destiny fixated on Stan’s tender loin. Lets listen in on our judges… “Conyo man, dat some huge tender dere Helen, si?” “Oh yea I see that thing Hal, Destiny seems to be staring too she better snap out of it and…oh wait, oh my God, I never knew anyone could peel a banana like that!” “Holy cheet Helen, Stan just dropped his meat pounder.” ..“Will you two idiots quit babbling, of course he dropped it for chrissake, look at the way that broad is eating the banana!” Wow!! Damn she’s not eating it, she’s sucking that thing and I want to take notes, if I could do a banana like that I’ll have both of you guys licking my fingers and eating me out.” ….Hoho, I think Helen meant eating out of her hand but either way everyone has stopped everything and…..Wait, what’s this?? Oh oh, this could be bad news for Stan, he may get disqualified. He has piled up all the ingredients in a tower. That’s quite an erection he’ got there, no pun intended, hope he can recover. Destiny is back by the stove and is she ever giving our viewers a view. Ten minutes to go contestants, Stan, better calm that thing down before it gets disqualified. We want you to stick it out, but not that far out, haha, and Destiny I sure hope you have something to lay on your plate. We’ll be back after these messages from our sponsors, Trojan Condoms, with their new stealth rubber, she’ll never see you coming, and our favorite fast food chain, Mc Do-me’s, they give you the meat but hold the pickle.

Welcome back folks, the final bell has rung and its time to find out who gets dressed and who gets their own reality show. Judges, lets see what Destiny and Stan have for you. Destiny, what is your entrée? “I have roast tenderloin with rolled up balls of figs. As a side I placed the tip of the banana into a sliced fig.” Oh my, that’s an interesting presentation, it looks almost phallic, Hal? …“Phallic schmallic Hugh, I jus wanna see her eat another banana.” …Sorry Hal, that trigger has already been tripped, Helen? ..”Destiny, meet me after the show!” ….Helen I’m not sure, “Piss off Hugh, let them meet Helen said I can watch! Just give her the prize and get rid of the dude.” ..Um, oh, I..I.. It doesn’t work like that Ben, we need to judge. Lets go quick, And I mean quick to see what Stan cooked up for us, Stan? …”Not that I think its even gonna matter, but I made scaloppini of pork tenderloin wrapped in grilled banana, with a cognac fig reduction and a purée of savory banana over cinnamon infused Jasmine rice.” …That sounds mighty tempting Stan, what do you thin Hal?…”Taste good, but not as good as dee chick.” Yikes, Helen? Helen? Stan, you can’t do that, get away from Helen…”Shut up Hugh, don’t stop Stan, if you keep going until I come you get my vo….oh shit, that was pre mature!!” Helen, please, this is…”Piss off Hugh. We all voted and the dude is out. Clean yourself off and get dressed Duprite! Bring those melons over here sweetheart, you’re the winner.” …. Ben you can’t say that kind of….oh, damn…We’ll be right back…CUT!!! Go to commercial now!!”
Shsshshshshshsshshshshshshshshshshshhsshhsh……….
Hello folks, welcome back I’m Hugh Jass here at The Buck Bone Naked Chef on The Sick Bastard TV Network, along with our celebrity judges, Hal Apeno, Helen Back, and Ben Dover. Well we had an unconventional show tonight to say the least but with this cast its about what we’d expect around here. We have to say good bye to a fierce competitor, but quite frankly Destiny made it hard for him from the start. In fact she made it hard for just about all of us. Stan plunged in and gave it his all but in the end he got beat by his competitor. Destiny made it so long and hard for him he just had to down, and not just on Helen, haha. His cream wasn’t rising to the top no matter how hard he was…I mean tried. Stan, put your clothes on and hit the road dude, Destiny will remain naked. “Can I just say I had a great time here. I won’t be able to beat it for a while but I am glad I came. Helen, thank you for your number I’ll give you a call. Destiny, if I had to go down I’m glad it was on you, I will never forget seeing your milk pillows bounce as you rolled out your dough. I think my only mistake was with the thickness of my pork, I didn’t pound my meat enough, but Destiny’s knockers knocked it out of the park anyway.” …Indeed they did Stan, glad to see your not a sore loser. Personally I can’t wait to watch Destiny beat her next opponents on Buck Bone Naked Chef Champions. In the meantime I’m gonna Ben Dover my Hugh Jass to Helen Back until Hal Apeno makes it Stan Duprite so Destiny Dancer can Jack Mioff. Thanks for joining us, I’m a Hugh Jass and we’ll see you next time on, The Buck Bone Naked Chef.

Moses And The Ten Suggestions ( 10 habits of highly pious people)

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fluke

A SICK BASTARDS BIBLE SELECTION
J.T. Hilltop

Moses tied his long hair in a ponytail as he walked some of his father in laws sheep up the mountain to his “spot” where he often went to chiillax with some weed. On this particular day he had stopped off at his best friends hut for a joint. “Oy Sammy, its me Moses, you got a spare joint dude?” Samuel opened the door, “Aye Mo, wassup my main shepherd friend, come on in I got just the thing for you Bro.” Moses knew he could count on Samuel, he always seemed to have the best weed. Claims he gets it from some dude named “The Lion,” or the artist previously known as Snoop Canine. “Check this out Mo, its some killer chronic. I painted the Zig Zag paper with hash oil before rolling it up so its got some real ballz Buddy.” He handed Moses the doob, “Oh snap Sammy, this gonna be fine my man, just what I need today. Wife’s been on my case all day and I need to dee-stress pronto baby.” Moses headed out the door filled with an attitude of gratitude and a slamming joint in his robe pocket. “Catch ya on the morrow Bro, thanks so much.”
Moses wandered up a mountain path with his sheep until he came across his favorite get high rock where he stopped and lit the J. Toking, coughing, toking some more he could actually feel the stress leaving his head. About three quarters of the way down the blunt there was a big seed that Samuel must have missed when he cleaned the herb and it popped loudly. An ember jumped up from the doob and landed in a small bush by Moses feet. At first he didn’t think anything of it although after a while the bush began smoldering. Moses was way to high to do anything. “Hey Moses….Moses its me, The Man.” Moses looked around but not seeing anyone he anwered, “That you Sammy? Holy crap Sam you were right about the chronic man.” Moses took off his sandal and pounded it on his head, “Hear that man? That’s my skull…. I’m sooo wasted!!” Moses looked again, still no one around. “No Moses, its not Samuel, its me God. You know the father of everyone. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, everyone. I’m the lord God, the supreme one.” Moses stared at the smoldering bush, “Come on Sammy cut the shit man, you’re scaring me Bro. How the fuck do you do that voice?” The bush burst into flame and began to crackle, “Its not Samuel and stop cursing. I hear you cursing all the time and it has to stop. I also know what you think when you look at Sarah. She’s not your wife, you shouldn’t think about her that way!” Moses was still leery thinking he was just too high, “What? Sarah’s friggen hot Man, I can’t help it. Have you seen those jugs? And she has hot legs too. Damn man, anyone that wouldn’t want to get between those…..Hey wait, you’re who? Did you say you’re my father? That ain’t funny Sammy, you know my old man died last year.” The bush began shaking, “Not your father, everyones father you jerk, the Lord God, creator of the world. The supreme being. And I told you to stop cursing. Matter of fact that’s one of the things I came here to talk to you about.” Moses walked closer to the bush, “So you saying I’m talking to God and you have some other shi….. Ah, stuff to talk to me about? Man this chronic is stronger than anything I ever had.” Moses took one more toke then tossed the roach aside, “So if you really god, the what’d you call it, supreme being, where’s your sour cream?” Although it was merely a bush Moses could sense its frustration as the flames flickered. The voice got really loud, “I’m not a friggen burrito supreme you idiot, I am the supreme ruler of all men, the lord god almighty himself and I’m here to give you instructions on what I expect from you. I hope to Jehovah I picked the right one. There aren’t any other Mosses’ in town are there?” The bush was shaking again, “Nah G, ain’t no Moses but me. But I could do it man, just tell me what you need.”
God went on to explain to Moses all the tasks that lay ahead. “Go to the elders of Israel and tell them that I have appeared to you and told you I have watched over them and know what went down in Egypt. Tell them I have promised to relieve their people of the misery by the Nile into the land of Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, and the Pez eating Pezanites. You will lead them into the promised land, the land of milk and honey.” Moses was a bit uncertain and felt that a deal of just milk and honey wasn’t enough so he negotiated to receive Manishcewitz wine, Knishes, and a Halvah candy bar along with the milk and honey. That would cure his munchies. Both sides walked away satisfied yet apprehensive, but the deal was done. Moses was to free the Jews from Egypt and bring them back here to Mount Sinus.
It was quite an undertaking because quite frankly the elders thought Moses was tripping, due to his reputation as a “prolific pot puffer” from his days as a bachelor. Moses complained to God who gave him a few tricks to perform. Hadeus, one of the meanest of the elders mocked Moses. “Check this out boys, young Moses over here claims that God has spoken to him. Hey Mo, what’d God have for breakfast this morning? Hahaha, you know what a man with a fourteen inch erection has for breakfast?” Hadeus dropped his drawers revealing a eleven inch erection laughed loud and said, “Well this morning I had four pancakes, two eggs over, and toast.” All the elders erupted in laughter so Moses seized the opportunity. “First of all Hadeus, its plain to see you are embellishing a bit about your endowment, that looks like ten inches at most, and behold, its not an erection, it’s a tiny garter snake.” With the power God bestowed him Moses turned Hadeus’s anaconda erection into a flaccid garter snake. The room fell silent as all stared in horror at the now even more impressive appendage hanging, or rather squirming between Hadeus’ legs. Hadeus screamed and as he ran away he cut his new one eyes snake on the door hinge and it began bleeding. Hadeus jumped into the lake which immediately morphed into blood. The elders no longer doubted and placed all their faith in Moses. No one wanted to suffer the E-reptile dysfunction of Hadeus.
Convincing the elders was one thing, but swaying the Pharaoh’s mind into freeing his people would prove much more difficult. The Pharaoh had a bevy of snake charmers leaving the snake trick to assume the position of a parlor trick. Moses spoke to God, “God, I told him to let my people go but the Pharaoh just laughed in my face. He was totally unimpressed with the snake trick. I told him you would do some really bad shit to Egypt if he doesn’t free them so….um, whatta ya got?” God raised his voice, “What did I tell you about cursing? What do you mean you told him I would do something? What do you expect me to do?” Moses put on his puppy dog eyes, “Well G, I was kinda hoping we could do something with some frogs, insects, and like some ice balls and shi…..stuff.” Gods voice chilled a few octaves, “Okay, okay, I’ll think of something, but why frogs?” Moses smiled, “My Mom used to tell me a story about an evil witch that turned a prince into a frog, and I just thought that would be fitting since the pharaoh was once a prince.” Moses couldn’t see God but he felt the wind suggesting God was shaking his head, “You are incorrigible young Moses. Okay, give me a week and then go back and get our people the heck out of Egypt!”
The very next day Egypt was inundated with frogs crawling and hopping out of every corner giving the Egyptian people warts and boils. The next day it was lice and gnats, the following day flies.Two days later and ice storm followed by a rash of locusts. Moses chuckled at the thought of the Pharaoh covered in warts, insect bites, and lumps from hail balls pleading for it to stop. He confronted him to find him near insane. “I’ll say it one more time, let my people go. God said he will kill the firstborn of every Egyptian family until my people are free.” The Pharaoh handed Moses the key ring with shaking hands, “Here, go. All of you get the fuck out of here, I never want to see any of you again!” Moses took the keyring to unlock the prisoners but gave the Pharaoh one last demand, “And stop the cursing!”
Well M-Dog was real proud of himelf, he was leading all the jews out of Egypt and had scored some killer black hash and a few grams of some whack Lebanese red cocaine in Cairo, so off they went into the desert. The trip was wracked with misfortune because Moses was stoned much of the time and kept making wrong turns. He put a young dude named Joshua in charge who fared a little better, but it was difficult traveling with armies chasing them all the time. Joshua made a huge misjudgment and suddenly Mosses and his people found themselves trapped at a river. Once surrounded Moses was prepared to give up when he heard God talk to him, “Moses, I saw you buying drugs in Cairo and you know how I feel about that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Use those drugs to get across the sea.” Moses was perplexed, “How the fu…er how the fudge can I use drugs to save us?” But Gods voice didn’t answer so Moses set out a plan of his own. He asked for a private meeting with the soldiers in charge, “Well boys, you got us. Before you kill us its customary back in my hometown to smoke a few bowls with your captors.” He lit up the hash and passed the pipe getting the soldiers high as kites. He then went to his people and pulled out the Lebanese red cocaine, “Everybody take two quick hits up the nose then we swim like mother, er melon farmers across the river.” Joshua was a bit concerned, “What is that Moses?” Moses smiled, some red “C” I purchased at a caravan in Cairo. Quick, snort it up and lets get the heck out of here!”
After snorting the Lebanese Red “C” they all swam across the river like it was an Olympic event leaving the Egyptian soldiers too stoned to chase them. Now they would have safe passage to Mount Sinus. A bit late perhaps, but be there they will! His people laughed at the stunned soldiers who were wondering what just happened as the group safely headed towards the promised land of milk, honey, wine, knishes, and Halvah bars. Without GPS it took a while but they made it to the foot of Mount Sinus. It was time. Moses headed up the mountain telling his people he’s be back shortly with a message from God. “Listen up guys, this shouldn’t take too long, Ima bust up the mountain to see God, you guys just hang and wait. And please, stay out of trouble. Josh, your in charge dude.
Moses trekked up the familiar mountain looking for his get high rock. Still a huge smile on his face Moses checked every bush around but none were burning. Not even smoking! Suddenly a tall dude with long wavy silver hair and a smoking silver ZZ Top beard walked towards Moses, “Where the heck have you been Moses?” Moses looked up sheepishly, “Oh, um, we got lost God, sorry. Wasn’t my fault the friggen soldiers kept chasing us, I made a wrong turn, Joshua got confused and before we knew it we were running in circles. Anyway, I’m here, your people are at the bottom of the mountain waiting, and its time to lay it on us big guy.” God was holding two tablets in his hands, marked RORER 714. Moses eyes got bugged, “Man, I ain’t see Quaaludes like that in years God. Are they for me?” God passed the tablets to Moses warning him to jut take one at a time. ZZ Top chinhair strap then lit up an enormous rolled joint and the two got high. Moses took both tablets. The two smoked a bit too much and passed out for forty days. When they came to, God had his ten suggestion ready. “Bring this list of ten habits to our people an tell them they need to follow this like law if they want to enter heaven.” Moses looked over the list, “Whoa, God, you gotta go over this shi…..stuff for me first, let take them one at a time. I‘ll paraphrase and write them down so we get it right”
Suggestion 1.….Remember that God is the lord, who freed you from Egypt, and invented weed
Suggestion 2.….Don’t worship before any other gods, wait until after
Suggestion 3.….Don’t put anything in your veins then say “God damn that feels good”
Suggestion 4.….Remember that on Sunday you should play Black Sabbath (or any solo Ozzie efforts)
Suggestion 5.….Be with your Father and especially your mother. Be on her and off her all night
Suggestion 6.….Don’t kill anyone with kindness.
Suggestion 7.….Do not commit to being an adult
Suggestion 8.….Do not steal. Shoplifting is okay, but stealing is a no no.
Suggestion 9.….Do not witness bears doing it with your neighbors.
Suggestion 10.…Do not cover your neighbors wife. (you’ll wanna see everything)

Moses wrote all the stuff down and headed back down the mountain to share his newfound knowledge. As he got close he dropped the paper he has written out. Standing in shock Mosses became infuriated. All of the people he had saved were drunk and having sex with a blowup doll. The doll was oddly attractive with large breasts, full thighs, and amazingly realistic calf’s painted gold. The golden calves! He ran around like a madman because he was a mad man. “You fools, worshiping a sex toy? Are you fucking kidding me?” Gods voice rang out, “Moses! What have I told you about cursing?” Moses acted as though he hadn’t heard as he ran up and pulled the plug on the sex doll, screaming at the revelers. As the air went out it made a loud sucking noise, and the one who had his rod inserted into the dolls staff let out an “Oh My God” as he reached a feverish orgasm. Mosses turned disappointed, “Of all, people Fellatio, I never expected this from you.” Moses was so crimson red and angry no one noticed that he grabbed at his chest. Moses suffered a heart attack leaving Joshua in charge of the rest of the journey. God had to rewrite the Ten Suggestions this time with corrections. The reworked list still stands today, as does fellatio’s rod.
The End

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

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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

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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

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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

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senile1

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

.

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

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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:
Stonehenge
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
(Chorus)
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
(Chorus)

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

In The Shadow Of The Moon…. Remembering The Dead

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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