This will be a recounting of some my various experiences with LSD. I don’t doubt that at least some of you have some experience with it as well. This is not in any way definitive and the descriptions and opinions given here are mine personally. I do not claim to have any special knowledge beyond my own experiences. There’s not really any tie in to libertarianism or politics and any moral to the story will be left to the reader.
As a kid, I was exposed to acid more than a few times. I think my first trip was at the age of thirteen. We had a connection in Santa Barbara, where we would buy âMr. Naturalâ blotter acid. I think we paid $150.00 for a sheet of 100. We would sell it for 3 bucks a hit. Usually, we made our money back and had plenty to take ourselves and give a bunch away. It was really good acid. I made it a habit to take some every few months, about 3-4 times a year. It was a lot of fun for the first few years.
Acid is said to have the ability to cause hallucinations. Most people think of hallucinations as imaginary people/objects that don’t really exist, but appear real. That’s not the way it worked for me, at least at first.
It was more like a slight tweaking of things that were really there. For instance, once, I watched a candle burning while tripping. My mom had antique wooden coca-cola crates nailed to the wall as knick-knack shelves. She had a number of candles in them. I lit one and became entranced by the flame. It looked so cool that I lit all of them. I looked intensely at one in particular. I began to feel as if I could throttle the burning of it and then accelerate it by sheer force of will. I concentrated really hard and it actually seemed like the candle began to burn faster. I was overjoyed that I could do this. I then tried to slow it down. I felt like it was harder to slow it down and it took more concentration.
This whole time, my brother was with me, but I had completely forgotten that. So, I poured on the throttle and really increased the burn rate hard. Then I tried to slow it back down but it wouldn’t stop. I got kind of scared that it would burn the whole world down. I put all of my life force into stopping it, but it just wouldn’t slow down. I was filled with regret that I had sped it up so much. I was starting to feel frantic about it when my mom came in the room yelling at me.
Apparently, as I was deeply engaged in this exercise, the other candles had burned all the way down to crates and then the crates had burned into the wall and the room was filled with smoke. I have no idea what my brother was thinking. My mom got us out of there and called the fire dept, who then extinguished the fire. It kind of snapped me out my trip.
Anyway, that’s more along the lines of how hallucinations worked for me. Not so much seeing things, but more like thinking and feeling things about what was actually there.
Well, the vast majority of my acid trips happened in laid back Ventura County, where the living was slower and simpler. These early trips were fun and I enjoyed them immensely. I only had two trips in Los Angeles and both of them turned out really badly for me. It turned out, in my case anyway, that given a messed up enough starting point, hallucinations in the literal sense can and do happen.
I moved to L.A. specifically to party extra hard. I actively sought out drugs and parties and imbibed as much as possible. Being 15 years old and broke, it took some effort. At times, I’d have to settle for what was there, rather than what I wanted. What was there was a lot of speed.
I never took speed before this time. I had taken downers and everything I used was more in that direction. In the valley at that time, there were crosstops or whites and black beauties all over the place. They were super cheap and very common. When one couldn’t find anything better, they were always there to fill in. I found myself taking them with some regularity.
Too much regularity, it turns out. I would only sort of sleep for a couple of hours a day. Looking back, I’m pretty sure the speed was responsible for my rapid deterioration and much of the trouble I got into that year. At any rate, it was during this period of regular use of stimulants that I had my two bad acid trips. This taught me that your current state of mind was a strong influence on how your trip would turn out.
The first bad trip I ever had was centered around fire, again. I don’t really count the above story as a bad trip, because I never had any real freakout. This time I freaked out pretty bad. There was guy in our crowd who had a car. Most of us didn’t, so he was a good friend to have. He had a 1970 Ford Country Squire wagon. It was beat up pretty bad. His name was Jeffrey. He was, well, strange.
Most of us were fairly normal stoner types. Jeffrey was a punk rocker. He was also much older. He cultivated a sorta film noir look. He wore slacks with suspenders, patent leather shoes and often a thirties looking hat. Basically he wore vintage business attire without the jacket. He kind of looked like a skinny Richard Nixon. It was a stark contrast to the jeans/concert shirts/pendeltons/long hair the rest of us wore. His Ford had the huge array of punk rock stickers all over it that was common among punk rockers at the time. White lettering on black background. Sort of the onion-on-the-belt of the era. He was a cool guy and we hung out with him, despite our differences.
This night, there was a bonfire party at the beach. A group of about three of us wanted to go, and we had to hustle up a ride. Jeffrey showed up and we all piled into the wagon. I had spent the week prior taking a lot of crosstops and barely sleeping. So, off we went.
The party was at a place called âZero’sâ beach. Now, it’s a state beach with a parking lot and official staff. Back then it was just a small dirt road off of PCH which led to a series of clearings along the beach’s edge. People would drive down and have gatherings and bonfires in each of the clearings. It was very difficult to find because the entrance was just a 20 foot wide break in the brush on the coast highway.
For whatever reason, this party ended up being huge. There was multiple bonfires and lots of people. The very first thing we did was drop some acid. Now, maybe it was purely because of the speed use before, or maybe it was because this acid was a different formula than the Mr. Natural I was used to, but it hit me totally different than ever before.
There were, as I said, numerous fires. I was drinking Mickey’s big mouths too, so I got a little wilder than would be advised. There was an actual car driven out onto the sand and set afire. It was a lot of fire! Me and my friend Marvin ( the same one from the last story) started playing with the fires. Of course we went way too far and got burned, melted our shoes and pissed a bunch of people off.
At one point we were fencing with burning sticks of wood. It was a lot of fun, but we clearly got way too crazy with it. Eventually, Jeffrey decided it was best we leave, and since he seemed more responsible and he had the car, we agreed and we all left to go home. It was on the ride home that things turned bad for me.
First, let me say that Jeffrey’s car probably hadn’t been washed in quite some time. The windows had a haze that showed drips from every time they’d been wet. It was almost as dark as tinting, it was that bad. Our route back to the valley was through Topanga canyon. Topanga Canyon is a really cool winding mountain road with a rich counterculture history. It’s about 15 miles from the beach to the freeway in the valley, all twisty and through dense brush and trees.
As we started up the hill, I started feeling kind of, well, off. Remember, in those days there were no designated drivers. It was whoever was least fucked up. Jeffrey had taken the same acid we had and he was tripping just as hard.
I think the first kernel of paranoia was the smell. I noticed a strong smell of burnt..everything. I had forgotten all about the fire/party. I just knew everything smelled charcoal-y. I looked out the window and it had that look that bongs get with all the resin and blackening and smoke. I started feeling kind of hot, like I was sweating. Then, I noticed a number of other vehicles flying past us. We were passed maybe 5 times in quick succession. Later, I realized this was because Jeffrey was tripping and probably driving 10 miles an hour, but right then, I starting suspecting that these drivers knew something we didn’t.
I started putting the pieces together. I smelled fire everywhere. The windows were all covered in smoky looking resin. People in other cars seemed to be fleeing rapidly. I was feeling hot and sweaty. I became convinced that we were crawling casually into a massive forest fire. I assumed everyone else was too stoned to realize it. My brain had forgotten the real reasons for all of these factors and was creating it’s own narrative which seemed to be leading us slowly to our certain demise. I was freaking the fuck out!
I began demanding that we get the hell out of there. The other people in the car were trying to calm me down, but I thought it was just because they were too stoned to understand. I got progressively more adamant. We have to get the hell out of the canyon, NOW! It was a really long and terrifying ride. Everyone else was patiently trying to calm me down and explaining why I was smelling burning and why there was no fire. I had so deeply immersed myself in the fire theme that I was inconsolable. Finally I got back home and the whole thing was behind me. It was the first bad trip I ever had. The next one would be much, much worse.
The second bad trip was more of a patchwork quilt of paranoid delusions. I had had a few minor bad trips between these two big ones and they worked their way into the last one. All of the little things that had freaked me out to a smaller degree seemed to bubble up to the forefront of my mind on this one night. It was horrific at the time, and not until after did I realize just how out of touch with reality I had become.
On a typical day of this year, I would go out to the local hangout (for us, a 7-11) and try and find some people to party with. That’s how this day started. I first ran into Marvin, who had a couple of hits of acid. We dropped some and then looked for our pot dealer to buy a dimebag. The dealer was named Jimmy, but we all called him Jimmy the Weasel, because he’d try and scam us constantly. We finally found him and bought a bag of weed.
We hooked up with a couple of more people who had some beer and we all shared our stash. We needed a place to party without getting hassled by the man. I had an ex-girlfriend named Nikki who lived just down the street from the seven-eleven this story began at, and we decided to go see if she was home. I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, so I wanted to say hello anyways. When we got to her apartment, the door was wide open. So, we all went in and started smoking and drinking. This was when it started turning into a nightmare.
After awhile, I had gotten kind of drunk and high. I needed to piss because of all the beer. So, I went to the bathroom. It was here that the first trigger got flipped. As I was peeing, I glanced over at the sink. There was various small spots of blood all over the counter. There was a single edge razor blade with blood on it. As I looked, the blood spots seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. It looked like a crime scene. Then, I walked through the bedroom to get back to my friends. On the bed, there was multiple piles of pills, like 10-12 piles, all sorted out and arranged. The idea of death just sorta slammed into my mind. It just felt like someone had died here. I realized that Nikki had tried to kill herself. It filled me with panic.
I went into the other room and tried to explain it to the others. They seemed completely unconcerned. I increased the urgency, winding myself up into a panic in the process. They didn’t understand, someone died here, likely Nikki. They asked if we should call the cops. That’s when I lost all memory of the events leading up to my being there. I couldn’t remember anything before seeing the blood. The death thoughts just erased that period of time from my mind, I guess. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I had killed her. It was ridiculous to think, but my broken brain was wondering if that was what happened.
By then, the others had settled on calling the police to report the evidence of suicide. I became convinced they were trying to have me arrested for murder. They strongly urged me to stay there. The paranoia built up in me was pushing me to leave. I began frantically demanding that we leave the apartment. I had to leave and I had to leave now. My friends all thought I was way too out of it to be out in public, so they tried really hard to get me to stay. I thought they were trying to keep me there so the cops could bust me. It all just kept getting more and more intense. Finally, Marvin decided that he would take me to his house and I could ride out my bad trip there.
The trip to Marvin’s house became a massive ordeal. Once I had the paranoid delusions, they just kept getting worse and worse. It was exponential growth of fear and dread, and it led me to actually see things that weren’t there.
Marvin somehow stole a bicycle, a bmx type. The plan was we’d ride this bike to his house and I would lay low until the acid wore off. He was way smaller than me, so I had to do the pedaling. He rode on the handlebars. He lived about 5 miles east on Ventura Blvd, the main drag. I started riding down the sidewalks and trying to convince myself that everything was OK. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see various strange things like broken windows and people just laying on the ground randomly. It seemed like a riot zone, kind of. It kept increasing in intensity.
Eventually, I started seeing blood and guts everywhere. I saw gory destruction, but it was all at the outer edge of my vision. When I looked directly ahead everything was fine. I felt like I was missing crucial details by not being able to look far enough to the sides. Like a car was coming right at me and I was going to get hit by it or something.
As an aside, I had previously had a minor bad trip which included me thinking I saw intercontinental ballistic missiles flying over L.A. I had also seen a huge group of roaches on the sidewalk as I walked. The missile thing freaked me out, so the next day I researched nuclear war. I collected a bunch of details as to what to expect. The primary one that mattered during this most recent bad trip was the fact that widespread panic and civil unrest could be expected. There was plenty more I learned about fallout patterns and what not, including that roaches were mostly impervious to radioactivity, but rioting was the one that hit during the bicycle trip.
I eventually came to the conclusion that the Russians had attacked when I had previously seen the missiles and this was the panic driven rioting we expected as a result. The whole world looked like a Black Sabbath album cover, but only at the edge where I had to struggle to make it out. The whole nightmare was building in intensity.
After maybe a mile of this, I started crashing the bicycle. I probably crashed 3 or 4 times. These crashes were relatively minor. As a result of the crashes, we both got scraped up some. The scrapes caused some bleeding. In my freaked out mind, the sight of actual blood begat the delusion of much, much more blood basically everywhere. It’s like the âmountain out of a molehillâ saying. The tiniest hint got magnified into a terrifying tidal wave of blood. Marvin decided we should go up the hill and travel that way. The Blvd was too populous. So we went up and then headed east again. Eventually, we turned down the hill. It was about this time that I had the strongest hallucination yet.
I heard a loud bang. It sounded like a gunshot. I looked down and clear as day, I saw a massive entrance wound in the middle of my chest. I was certain I had been shot. I was riding the bicycle with Marvin on the handlebars at the time. We were going downhill at a good clip. I thought to myself, well, I’ve been shot and when people get shot they fall. So, I fell. Backwards, off the bicycle. With Marvin still riding on the handlebars. The bike kind of teetered and then tumbled into a ball with Marvin all wrapped around the wreckage. It was a pretty bad wreck and Marvin got chewed up fairly bad. After we got back up, there was no hole in my chest. There was however, even more blood all over. Dripping and leaving stains everywhere. Everything seemed bloody.
Well Marvin decided that we shouldn’t try riding the bike anymore, so we left it where it was and continued on foot. By now it was pretty late at night and thankfully, dark out. After what seemed like an eternity, we made it to Marvin’s house. Marvin lived in a big house, set back off the street quite a ways. There was a long driveway and an electric gate before you got the house. We got inside and things calmed down a bit. Marvin started trying to convince me that I was just having a bad trip and none of this stuff actually happened. I was kind of vacillating between accepting that and insisting that it all seemed so real.
Marvin started calling people and asking for advice on how to get somebody to come down off of an acid trip. We had to try and stay quiet because his parents were already asleep. So, he collected up a bunch of tips on de-tripping someone. The first thing he tried was having me drink a bunch of milk. He brought me a gallon jug. I tried to drink as much as possible as quickly as I could. I was still pretty frantic and shaking quite a bit, so I spilled a whole bunch of it. I was sitting in the dark on an orange velour couch. I spilled a huge amount of milk all over the couch.
After awhile, I noticed the milk stains and realized it looked like blood. Lots and lots of blood. I put two and two together and decided that the rioting had made it’s way to Marvin’s house and his parents had been killed. I panicked even more and just couldn’t stop freaking out. Obviously, the drinking milk plan had not worked.
The other suggestion was taking a cold shower. So I went into the bathroom and tried that bit of advice. I started the water and turned it all the way cold. It was comforting to have the lights on finally, and at first, I thought it would work. I rinsed all the blood (actual blood from all the bike wrecks) off and settled down a bit. I was feeling better.
Then, I started noticing that various sounds were creeping through the noise of the shower. I was alone and nobody could try and calm me, so I just had to work on staying calm myself. The noises kept increasing. They sounded like people being slaughtered. There was more and more of them. Blood curdling screams. It was getting pretty obvious to me that the whole house was filled with rioters killing Marvin and his parents. It just kept building until I couldn’t take it any more. I tried to escape, right through the glass shower stall!
It broke with a loud crash and cut me pretty badly, leading to…you guessed it, even more actual blood. Upon hearing the destruction of the shower stall, Marvin’s dad came rushing in. Apparently he had woken up and Marvin had explained to him that I was having a bad trip. He was pissed and started punching me and throwing me around. I deserved it, for smashing up his house and all, but I really felt like the riots had finally found me and I was doomed to die. After a good amount of beating and punching me he stopped and told Marvin to get me the hell out of there.
Marvin took me out to the garage and called my grandmother to come get me. We sat in the dark garage and watched for her at the gate. I kept imagining hordes of rioters storming it and attacking me. When my grandmother finally arrived, I thought she was one of the murderous rioters. I was way off the deep end.
Well, she drove me home and cleaned all the blood off of me and put me to bed. I was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to continue with the paranoia anymore, so I slept. I slept pretty much all day and woke up in the early evening. I went out to eat something and read the paper while I ate. There was a story about a drug addiction therapy program. I showed it to my grandmother and told her I think I need to do something like this. She said, âNope, that won’t help you. You’re possessed by the devil and there’s no helping you!â Thanks, grandma!
That evening, I went around to the various places and checked to make sure it was all just a bad dream. There was all the evidence of my ex’s suicide attempt, some broken windows and general disarray here and there. There was a drunken bum who slept on the same bus bench I saw. Oh, and there was a wadded up BMX bike right where I âgot shotâ LOL. My ex actually had tried suicide. Well, she tried to make it look like she tried suicide. She went away to the funny farm for a long while after that. These events and imagined events all happened about two months before the previous story I submitted a while back.
This was the very last time I ever took acid. It was also the last time I ever took speed. I switched to mostly quaaludes and beer after that, which greatly increased the trouble I got into, but at least it messed with my mind a bit less.
I’m not sure if was able to convey how crazy the whole experience was for me, but I hope I got close. A mind is terrible thing to waste, and mine was wasted that night. This a large part of what drove me to abstain from all mind altering substances for 30 years. Keep in mind, this was just a small portion of my life. This was the tail end of my short lived drug habit. It turned out that reality was for people like me, who couldn’t handle drugs.
BTW, I learned that Los Angeles is in fact a decent target for nuclear annihilation. However, the fallout would likely be carried east by the prevailing winds, so the west coast would be the safest place in America to be. Roaches would be one of the few species that would be unscathed. Most food would contaminated. It would be best to stick with canned foods and possibly fish, as the mass of water and metal cans would prevent radioactivity from infecting the food. Mass is what prevents radioactive contamination. While there are few strategic targets in L.A., there are some (were in 1981 anyways) and the fact that’s it’s a well known population center might make it a target, regardless. This is the kind of shit we worried about in the early eighties (well, that and AIDS). There’s still a number of abandoned missile bases and air raid sirens around Los Angeles.
Abtw, I’m pretty sure Marvin was in and out of prison his whole life. Nikki, I ran into maybe ten years later and she was still the same crazy assed drama queen she was back then. My grandmother eventually got more senile and seemed to lose her nasty streak, slowly and not entirely. I went on to…well, that’s the other story.
The only drug I ever did was booze, and I only have two or three drunk stories.
that doesn’t sound pleasant in the least. granted, I’m the kind of guy who tells himself to cool it when he has 4 beers instead of 3.
You are the Supreme wild man!
I don’t normally get to 3 drinks.
This is how I am now. I went 30 years without being intoxicated after that summer. Now, I’m pretty much a teetotaler.
I had 3 beers last night (Pliny the Elder back in stock), and I’ve had a headache all day. I just don’t have it in me anymore.
I have taken acid twice. Both good trips in the end but the dropping off my friend at MIA while tripping really confused me but I didn’t wreck the car. I was just glad I was not the one tripping who had to walk into the airport and get on a plane to fly to the BVI. Last I heard from that friend group that I don’t keep in touch with anymore is he was Captain of a yacht for some relative of a Mexican politician.
I find mushrooms a much better choice if one is going to do the hallucinogen route. I couldn’t tell you how many times I have had those (over thirty years ago) and always hilarious fun times. Supposedly the milk trick does work on those or so I was told. Acid aint letting you go until it is done with you in my limited experience.
Yeah, me too.
Thanks for the right up. LA beaches in the early 80’s were fun not that I ever saw a car burning. My buddies and I would load up every spring break and head to CA. A bunch of mtn boys wrecking themselves on the beach trying to surf and skim board. We were not partiers then so no drunken drug fueled idiocy but there was much wholesome idiocy and sand rash had. The drunken drug fueled idiocy started after we graduated high school.
I heard OJ is the antidote.
I have also heard bread. Who knows, I never had a bad trip.
Nothing worked on me. It was kind of a question of whatever Marvin’s friends gave him. I think that when you wind yourself up tight enough, nothing’s going to stop it until it’s done.
Anyway, I had a bunch of good trips too. Like watching waves crash in until dark and then watching the phosphorescent fish or whatever they were dance around the beach, shit like that. Or listening to all 40 records we had all day. These are just the extreme bad ones.
I believe, back in the late ’70s/early ’80s, when I was in HS in LA, a lot of the acid running around had a lot of speed in it.
Made for a lot of bad trips for some people.
My Uncle used to take acid with regularity and he did not like the stuff there.
The two things that do work are B-complex and benzodiazepines.
Sigh… Mad late to the party as usual. Blackjack, this was a great article; it really hits home. Speaking of phosphorescence, the Northern Gulf of Mexico (particularly the beaches of Wakulla County) have a great deal of phosphorescent jellyfish. That part of Florida also produces some of the best psilocybin mushrooms on the face of the Earth. Those two things make a wonderful combination. Until, one is tripping, night-swimming, and one’s mind fills with all of the Lovecraft one has been reading. I was convinced the glow was that of an angler-fish Old One who was trying to trick us into the water. Good times.
Altered cognition where I can no longer properly see and process reality is a terrifying thought to me.
Now that was a good read! ???
I “may” have partied vigorously in my earlier years, but I have no experiences quite like that.
Glad you enjoyed it.
And I’m sorry you had such an extreme experiences.
Don’t be, I done it to myself. At least, I learned.
And this one time, we dropped acid and went to the movies…I was talked into seeing Don Juan Demarco. We left after 20 minutes. Even lsd couldn’t make that movie palatable.
This was with the tiny girlie who drank like a fish and dropped her bumper in my driveway one late evening. Still don’t remember how that actually happened. Good thing she was driving.
That’s a weird euphemism.
Nope. Literally happened. ?
Bumper is her coke vile with mini chain attached caviar spoon.
Nope. Toyota Tercel.
After drinking at an allegedly haunted bar.
I don’t recall doing any coke with her.
I have never had interest in trying acid. I’ve heard too many stories about bad trips. This article just adds to them.
Thanks for sharing blackjack. You have had an interesting life.
There’s not really any point to the story, it’s just a recounting of a few things that happened ( and/or seemed to happen) to me when I was young. Maybe provide a bit of context to the last story?
It’s still appreciated.
The first trip, the one with the candles, is more characteristic of an acid trip, except usually there’s someone to snap you out of it, before the wall starts fucking burning! The others were more a function of me being worn down by excess before I ever took it.
I’ll say this much for LSD: it has never caused anyone to chase a bear with a hatchet:
Police advise against drunkenly chasing bears with hatchets, âgoing all Davy Crockettâ
***
A drunk man tried to chase a bear through the woods in North Adams, Massachusetts, armed with nothing but a dull hatchet, police say. The man was taken into protective custody after the Monday night pursuit, police say. It’s unclear what the man planned to do if he caught up with the bear, officials said.
***
I don’t know if a bear has ever been high on LSD, but they react to nutpunches the same way I do:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kjY9sKdHlY
Whatever, I could take on a bear. /drunk lacky
+1 Project Grizzly, one man’s quest to make a bear-proof suit of armor
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLUdtF7aG7o
***
Troy James Hurtubise (November 23, 1963 â June 17, 2018) was a Canadian inventor and conservationist, noted for self-testing his often bizarre creations. These inventions included various ray generators, firepaste (an ablative heatproofing material), the Ursus personal armor suit and the Trojan Ballistics Suit of Armor.
***
That’s some fine toxic masculinity, Lou.
It all started when:
***
After a dangerous but victimless encounter with a giant grizzly bear during a camping trip in 1984, North Bay, Ontario resident Troy Hurtubise is inspired to research the species up close.[2][3] A scrap-metal merchant, Hurtubise builds a space suit-like “grizzly-proof” suit of armour inspired by the film RoboCop, which he calls “Ursus Mark VI”.[2] The inventor works diligently to improve the $150,000 suit, continuously testing its resilience by subjecting himself to would-be injuries from moving automobiles and bar brawls.[3] He then forays into the Rockies to track down the grizzlies he dreams of meeting. Hurtubise ultimately leaves without repeating the bear encounter, which director Peter Lynch optimistically notes is the only way “the quest [can live] on.”[2]
***
The story I read elsewhere went something like: he got knocked down by a bear while taking out the trash, so he pulled out 2 knives, yelled “I’m gonna stick these right up your ass!” and the bear retreated.
A man in Finland scared off a bear by yelling perkele (damn!) at it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7_pVrIshxA
exactly, they’re just big sissies.
Hah! I worked for Gene Winfield at the time. I did work on the SUX6000. We built a nice one and two shitty ones. They wrecked the nice one and we had to build another. He still had the second nice one as of about 5 years ago. It was a tweaked mid seventies Malibu. Used to drive it around Canoga Park. Good times. Fucking guy used to bounce paychecks all the time. Asshole.
This might be me
Might be me at the upper left. Maybe.
I had about 5 of those white shirts with the custom cars on them. Like the guy on the right. That’s what he gave us instead of paying us, LOL.
How is there all this bear talk without a mention of our own beloved Festus. Festus has a war-stick that is pure bear-bane and he had cause to deploy it recently to chase off a trash stealing ursine.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=doRUhDIB29s
Related.
The song I like, but I never looked up the video until now. Uhm…don’t watch the video.
Ha, I didn’t get into drugs until college. Acid just makes my vision swimmy. Fun for a bit, tiring six or eight hours later.
Be not afraid.
I wouldn’t want to watch that on acid.
Ok, about this?
What was probably on the tape deck that night. Unless, of course, Jeffrey had his way, then it’d be Oingo Boingo or some shit.
âReality is a crutch for people who can’t cope with drugs.â
-Lily Tomlin
Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda: We really did take peyote for ‘Grace and Frankie’.
The plot involves two men who divorce their wives to marry each other, which suggests that the writers *also* were taking peyote.
***
“mescal cactus,” 1849, in reference to the mescal made from it, from Mexican Spanish peyote, from Nahuatl (Aztecan) peyotl, said to mean “caterpillar;” the cactus so called from the downy button on top.
***
And caterpillar means hairy cat (cattus pelose).
I took peyote twice. Both times, it made me puke. I hate puking. If I have to puke in order to get high, I’d rather just not. They said, “just be sure and remove the white hairs from the middle” I did that and still, I puked. I was not impressed. Mushrooms were different. They just tasted terrible. I would make an ice cream shake out of them and they were tolerable. Nowhere near as powerful as acid, but at least they didn’t make me puke.
I’ll never hear the end of it from my friend’s wife for puking repeatedly in her bathroom sink. Well, they were your drugs, biatch.
*crosses acid off to-do list*
Thanks, blackjack. Shrooms will have to do.
He had a 1970 Ford Country Squire wagon
That’s what we had back in the day! 3rd seat ftw!
Add me to the list of those who have never used any sort of mind altering substance (other than alcohol, and even that is very rare). About the closest I’ve ever come to smoking pot was going to a Grateful Dead concert at an indoor arena – about half a second after the house lights went down it was bright as day again from everyone lighting up.
I’m not even sure that drugs would affect me. I can drink tremendous amounts of alcohol without getting even remotely tipsy, and my record is finishing off a fifth of vodka in about 3 hours solo with no noticeable effect. Prescription narcotics also don’t do a thing to me – when I had my knee replaced a few years ago the doc told me to double the dosage of oxycodone and tramadol because the normal dose wasn’t helping, and I still didn’t feel any different. I’ve had pretty much all of the opioids prescribed to me at some point, including fentanyl, and I could have been eating PEZ for all the relief I got from it.
Never tried anything else, and likely never will.
They gave me oxy one night in the hospital a couple months ago and it was worse than any of the many drugs I’ve tried. I told them – do not give me that again, thanks. FWIW I don’t do drugs any more so maybe I was out of practice.
Really? You had a bad time from oxy?
The hardest drug I’ve had was half a valium my then-girlfriend gave me to sleep, and it left me loopy and out of sorts half the next day. Did not enjoy.
OTOH the vet sedated my cat yesterday and watching it stumble around the house looking bewildered was nothing but funny.
“The hardest drug Iâve had was half a valium my then-girlfriend gave me to sleep, and it left me loopy and out of sorts half the next day. Did not enjoy.”
Wow. For me, that’s just Thursday.
This is my mandatory weekly check in so that SP doesn’t
report me to my parole officerpurge me from thevoter rollscommentariat.Sorry, it’s kind of a form letter.
* suddenly and furiously checks in *
I have lived…and continue to live a fairly vanilla existence. There must have been drugs around during high school, but I didn’t find them – nor did I seek them out.
I had a cow-orker who would get flashbacks anytime a Barry Manilow song came on the radio. Apparently it was on the radio during his bad trip. So we played “Copa Cabana” any time we could.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pth79-bpgGs
Thanks for the glimpse into a different culture, blackjack.
Acid and other things should be for sale in vending machines.
lol
Today I saw someone doing something I haven’t seen since the late 90s.
Partying like it’s 1999?
That song made no sense whatsoever back in the eighties. Now, It’s perfect.
My god 1999 was a year.
Who knew what was coming 20 years later.
Who knew what was coming 2
0years later.Or one year later.
Sometimes it feels like it’s all been downhill since the late 90’s.
Sigh. I turned 30 in 1999 and was pretty much peak me.
Didja tell him, ” Hey Buddy, stop doing that”?
Watching a VHS cassette tape?
Paying under 1 dollar for a gallon of gasoline?
Buying the physical copy of a Penthouse Magazine?
Smoking a cigarette indoors?
Referencing the “House Party” movies.
Consider Madonna to be fuckable?
You’re on a roll. None of these are close, but I’ll let you skate. They’re at least in line with the theme.
Fuck Denise Arnold, marry Gilad, and kill Tony Little?
Oh this was a good one. Foiled by formatting!
We were all hot for Shannen Dougherty. She was the resident wild woman of Hollywood in the early nineties. It was a goal to end up wherever she was and make your play. Alas, never happened.
Shannen Dougherty
MEM native
Worn LA Gear?
Purchasing a No Fear t-shirt?
Sporting a mullet?
Openly appreciated Calvin and Hobbes?
Hey!
Called themselves a Smashing Pumpkins fan?
Thought Tim Allen was funny?
Was openly engrossed in competing professional wrestling organizations?
Monetarily supported Ronco?
Set it, and forget it!
Walking around without a mask?
Getting a reading from Miss Cleo?
G’night, Glibs.
I’m going to try to wake up in time to get to work in the morning.
G’night, UCS.
I will haunt your dreams like a bad acid trip!
Sweet dreams, UCS.
Sigh. I’m on the 6am shift this week and next week. “You’re flexible, right?”
“Yeah, I’m new so of course.”
Not gonna go into details of what I have and have not done. I will say the first time I saw “hardcore” drugs was freshman year of high school. I walked into the bathroom there was a girl and a guy doing lines of coke (at least I assume it was) off the top of the urinal. No mirror, straight off the porcelain. I vividly remember he had blood running down his face, she had two black eyes and was sobbing. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I took a piss in another stall then calmly walked out without saying a word.
Thanks to that event I’ve never done, nor had the desire to do coke.
Smart man. Drugs probably never did anyone any favors. Just a question of how much damage they were willing to endure before they realized the fun wasn’t worth it.
Jesus.
Were you whistling the entire time?
Oh man if I could go back in time I would have whistled a jolly tune.
Sorry rereading that and it comes of as kind of judgemental. Nothing against people who do coke, or any drug, just sharing a moment that scared me away from thinking about it.
Also noticed my phone decided to auto complete “done and not done” then I proceeded to tell you what I’ve not done. Man I need a drink.
Maybe not doing coke in general, but that set of circumstances is well worth judging.
Groovy af
I was a boy scout. I stayed out of trouble. At least until I got a girl friend.
No drugs involved.
Blackjack, thank so much for sharing. Quite a tale and well writting too.
Again, I feel priveledged to be here. Very different people that have all ended up in this weird place and moslly get along.
Thanks, man.
Hey, look! Mikey likes it!
Gah!!
Am i never going to lose that?
Quaaludes? God damn you’re old.
Was Topanga Canyon actually on fire?
Nope, it was all in my head. Yeah, this was back in the early eighties.
Topanga is a hairy enough drive without being passed and/or paranoid.
It’s also very flammable.
I still think there could have been a fire. Did you go back and check?
Maybe it should shave!
Side note: Mickey’s Bigmouths lead to Mickey’s Mud Butt.
Seriously, if you want the worst diarrhea, get drunk on Mickey’s.
Ooh, forgot about that. Mickey’s was the thing (that was available) back in HS.
Or Lucky Lager, with the rebus under the bottle cap.
A different generation. Drugs are totally foreign in my experiences. I put away enough booze over a 30 year period, however, to last the rest of my life. A few years ago I asked my best friend if we’d have done MJ, had it been available. “Hell”, he said, “We couldn’t afford cigarettes”. I guess that answered my question.
I worried a lot about my kids as they were going through the experimental age growing up. They out grew whatever they were doing without any lasting affects.
My brother died from cirrhosis, even after he’d been dry for 35 years. His eating habits didn’t help. It was a 2 year exit and watching him suffer wasn’t my idea of a good time.
Thanks, Blackjack, great info, hopefully most kids are learning from their elders but alas, it seems we’ve all got to find our own way.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VMGwbpMC9M
Thank you Fourscore. I’m glad it came across that way.
OT: If Trump wins do we end up with some form of martial law embraced by the majority?
As opposed to what we’re doing now?
Like now but worse?
If it’s Dem mayors and governors ginning up excuses to crack down on political opponents, I can absolutely see it. Everyone’s a white supremacist! We must protect our peaceful protestors! But I can’t see Trump getting away with anything like that.
To quell the eventual rioting?
Eventual?
Sarah Isgur has proposed this scenario:
a/ Senate and Trump process and seat new justice before election.
b/ Single-issue and court-conscious voters are satisfied and no longer care who is next president and forget to vote.
Enh, there’s a couple more of them near death’s door.
I thought Single Issue Voters only cared about cockfighting.
I’m sure you all saw the story about the lady being tazed at a high school football game for not wearing a mask, but this is the first I have seen of the thigh tattoo.
*chefs kiss*
Saw the video tonight. Anger rising.
Oh, it is awful. Also notice the reverse racism!!!!!!!!
But really that tattoo…I’d bail her out of jail if you know what I mean…
No, all I noticed was my country swirling down the fucking toilet.
Yeah, my anger is really at a level it hadn’t reached yet. I’ve got some real thinking to do.
I keep telling myself that I need to unplug from glibs for a couple weeks and do a complete detox from the news cycle. Then I see the emails I get at work, the topics of various webinar, and the conversations my coworkers have and realize that the only way to detox is to buy 100 acres in the middle of nowhere and work the land on an off-grid homestead. Even then, I’m sure it’ll filter through. There is no escape.
Well, thanks everybody. Usually, I am in a group and they all tell their stories. Then, I tell mine and it’s like a record screeching. Everybody gets somber and says, “wow!” You guys react like normal people and I thank you all.
“normal people” Ummmm…
The beholder?
You should tell more stories.
I’ve said it before, but you’ve lived more than most.
Any one of your stories would be enough for a lifetime.
I’m just happy I can say “I know a guy (kinda) who used to live with Aja”.
(and, yeah, I’m sure sure was a nightmare – who in that biz is well-adjusted?).
I should admit I just skimmed your post – I tripped a few times before I realized “I hate this” – just lasted too long and out of control. I’m prone to be up in my head anyway, so it was a bad choice.
I find it best not to spend too much time remembering those experiences and your post started me down that path.
Just booze these days (thank god I didn’t really have the genes for coke addiction – it was readily available for a bunch of years; I don’t miss it a bit).
I grew up in Miami in the 80’s, there’s very little you could say that would shock me. đ
That must have been something. Post-worthy?
Damn Blackjack that was an enjoyable but also an intense story.
For a simple pleasure staring at the hair on my forearms was always entertaining. A glance at them is also a good “is this still working?” test.
I read this, and then your piece about Juvie that I somehow missed.
Next to you, I’m pretty boring.
The answer is rollerblading, btw. I loved it back in middle school, then suddenly nobody did it anymore.
It’s back, suddenly. I’ve seen a bunch of rollerbladers this year.
It died with JFK Jr.
Hillary Clinton killed rollerblading.
With a cloth?
I was really hoping the answer would be pogs, but when I saw the clues, my heart sank:
***
Youâre on a roll. None of these are close, but Iâll let you skate. Theyâre at least in line with the theme.
***
“Alf is back! In pog form!”
Another casualty of the 90s – funny Simpsons episodes
Aw jeez, pogs. I had a minute with them, but by the end of the 90s I’d moved on to Magic cards.
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERDS
Are you really allowed to execute people at a local jail?
Pogs is what my now wife called challenge coins.
The second-to-last time I took acid, I not only took way too much (after having not taken it in years), but I also combined it with ecstasy (in the wrong order – I was already feeling the acid when I took the X, you’re supposed to take the X first then the acid).
Wasn’t the greatest trip I’ve had – too much shitty techno music, too many ravers, at one point my friends were turning into demons, and I was concerned for a while that one of my friends might be dead (she was just passed out drunk), but I got through it.
Anyways, I came out of the whole experience with the life-changing revelation that I’d been dehydrated my whole life, and ever since then I’ve made it a point to drink more water.
“youâre supposed to take the X first then the acid”
candy flip!
The article made me think of these 2 songs:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7ANZ8Osnz4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMX2lPum_pg
The 2nd one hits the late 90s vibe I think commodious was going for.
things gone since the late 90s:
-walk around without having their eyes glued to a smartphone
-go through airport security in 10 seconds
-watch a news broadcast that does not contain any reference to social media
-rent a movie from Blockbuster
-hear someone say “it’s a free country”
-use a pay phone
-listen to messages on an answering machine
-door to door trick or treating
[adjusts belt onion]
But some things never go out of style: “The Republicans will end social security.” “The Republicans don’t have compassion.” “The Republicans are racist.” “The Republicans will take your health care.” “The Republicans are the party of the rich.”
Stay away from this website – these people want to get your cackles up with clickbait.
https://twitter.com/CarycruzBueno/status/1309154304230600705
Tourist-friendly Maine in the late summer / early fall is a haven for white supremacy.
Conclusion: women shouldn’t have cell phones
I see no other solution.
*Yanks nose piercing out*
My mom crashed a house party I went to in junior high school. âHey, your mom is down stairs and sheâs looking for you!â I emptied a full tube of aquafresh down my throat and met her outside. âIâm not drunk. Smell my breath.â Blew chunks all over her.
But it was minty fresh.
Good point. Why was she upset?
She preferred Colgate?
Meh toothpaste but an excellent college.
They can be forgiven for quite a bit because they repurposed a Madness song for their TV spots.
https://youtu.be/aMlvEpWcfGI
LOL
Boys best friend is his mother.
LOL
Thanks, blackjack.
Well, you’ve got me beat. The worst I’ve ever done is hit .38 BAC. From what people told me it was a fun night, but I can’t remember anything about it.
Who measured that?
I think it’s a scientific point above which your breath is combustible.
The emergency room. The cops tried to administer a breathalyzer to my similarly drunk friend, but he stuck it up his nose and then proceeded to clog it up with vomit, so blood tests it was and off to the hospital we went. The nurse that was there when I woke informed me that I had the high score for the semester.
Good gravy, man. Glad you lived through it.
BTW, here is a potato that resembles your dog: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8758179/Its-barked-potato-Dog-owner-digs-home-grown-spud-looks-just-like-pet-pooch.html
Most potatoes look like my dog, especially when they’re put on a couch.
On the plus side, since I drank more than my friend, I only got charged with underage drinking. He got charged with underage, indecent exposure, and assaulting an officer. Protip: don’t forcibly rip out your catheter and then throw the urine filled bag at a cop. It may provide a distraction for a moment, but your drunken ass isn’t getting away.
According to our hospital’s lab, 0.40 is a lethal level, you came in just under.
But I’ve actually seen patients come in much higher than 0.40 before and seem cold sober just a few hours later. People can build up some amazing levels of tolerance. Their livers aren’t doing very well at that point, however.
Posted the other night
https://youtu.be/WbKbn9Gf6Vk
And I missed it?
Thanks for the intro to the YT local news channel, Gustave! All this time I’ve been merely reading the news like a schnook.
Oh I was still drunk until the next afternoon, I had almost no tolerance at that point. .38 was my adjusted level, since I had stopped drinking for a few hours before I was dragged, literally, into the ER. I had a .34 at admittance if memory serves, so I was out of the danger zone for the most part, outside of aspirating my own vomit which I thankfully avoided.
Interesting story, Blackjack. Thanks for writing this up.
I used to travel up and down PCH between San Clemente and Seal Beach back about 1976-78 when I was stationed at Camp Pendleton. Never did any drugs but I kinda know what the area was like.
https://spdblotter.seattle.gov/2020/09/24/bike-officer-placed-on-leave-opa-sheriffs-office-conducting-reviews/
That cop deserves a medal.
I disagree. I don’t want the cops to get away with things like that. That’s how we got here.
I have a few of those acid stories.
I remember one time, I had some acid, I was maybe 20 and I decided to treat my cousin who was same age as me, he had never done it before.
I was staying at my grandmother’s place and he had come down there that summer also. So I had this acid and I thought I can’t do this alone, and he’s the only person around I would give it to and we’re both staying here, so…
Anyway, I was staying with my grandparents most of the time before, but I had moved out shortly after I turned 18, but they still had my bedroom pretty much untouched. So we’re hanging out in my room smoking weed and drinking some beer and I said ‘hey man, you want to do some acid?’. So he just looks at me and then gets this smirky grin and says ‘You don’t have any acid’. But I did.
So we do take this acid. And about 45 minutes later or something like that, I can see it’s affecting him. And he’d just start laughing and looking around and saying ‘wow’ and stuff. And then he says ‘Man I have to get some water, I’m thirsty’. About that point, I start getting paranoid and thinking ‘what if this guy freaks out?’. So I said ‘Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll get you a glass of water’. So he says OK.
So I went out there and my grandmother and grandfather are sitting on the sofa and you had to walk through there to get to the kitchen. And when I’m walking through, one of them starts talking to me. So I had to sit down a minute and act like everything is OK. So they know we’re drinking beer and smoking weed, no big deal. So I wasn’t really that high, I mean all colors were just pop out at you vivid and some mild stuff. So I’m sitting there, and sure enough here comes the guy walking through to get water. And I’m thinking ‘fuck, did I get tell him to stay put?’.
So from where I’m sitting, I can see him and he’s standing there with the cupboard open right above the sink where the glasses are. And he’s not doing anything, just standing there staring, for like a really long time. And I’m thinking ‘oh shit’. So then my grandmother gets up and walks in there and I’m thinking ‘Oh fuck, dude be cool’. And then he says ‘WOW Grandma, you really got some freaky cups!’ and starts laughing hysterically and I’m thinking ‘oh fuck I’m totally fucked.
And so I had to get up and walk in there and my grandmother looks at me and says ‘What in the world is wrong with him?’. I said ‘He’s a little drunk’, and said ‘come on, dude, let’s go back, you maybe need to lie down’. So I get him back in there and said ‘man, that shit’s not cool, you’re going to get me in trouble’. And he just says ‘But did you see those cups man, they’re freaking me out! and laughs like an idiot’.
She brought it up again a couple of days later and I lied again and said ‘He was just drunk’. But she was just eyeballing me and she knew better.
Morning, Glibs.
Random wake-up from insomnia happened before my alarm, so I decided to take it and get up.
Good morning Sir. I am sorry to hear that. I know the feeling. It happens to me every morning. Usually 3am to 4am I just pop awake. Sometimes I just lay there and try to go back to sleep but to no avail.
Last night I popped awake a 11:30…back to sleep and awake again at 1:30.
I dont have to go anywhere or do anything today so perhaps I will have some Irish coffee. It may help me nap.
The lights just came on in the office, so I guess I have to stay awake.
*raises cup of coffee*
I have gone into the office. It’s easier to walk to the cube without being hassled when I’m the only one in the building. The lot was empty, I was the only car there. I’ve never seen the lot empty before.
That’s how it will be in the zombie apocalypse too. Except there will be zombies, of course.
I dont find any of these stories tempting me to use any kinds of drug.
I have RA and my docs used to push me into using some kind of pain pill….anything I want.
No thanks *points at body* This is going to fall apart and this *points at head* is all I will have left.
I never had any use for the stuff.
“Here, try this. It’s good. You will like it” That is what my mother would say when she wanted me to eat some food she knew little kids didn’t like. Growing up I developed a deep dislike for people telling me what I like.
Around 1980? ’81? some guys I went to school with got me to try pot. I did not like it….I think because of the same reason I hate cilantro. It stunk like hell to me. I would rather take a dry dog turd, wrap it in bitter weed and smoke that. So these two guys keep sticking this joint in my face and then one of them stepped in it: “C’mon man. Try some more. It’s good. You will like it”
“I tried it. It’s not good. I don’t like it. If you put that in my face one more time I am going to take it away from. you and stick it right up your ass. It won’t be good and you wont like it”
I dont think that guy ever talked to me again. That is probably best. A couple of years out of HS someone told me he was in prison for…..guess what.
I will stick to my booze.
Growing up when and where I did, just about everybody was doing pot at least – if not heavier stuff. Myself and my closest friends never tried any of that, at least not back in high school. Of course we weren’t the “cool kids” but we didn’t care.
Nobody ever pushed me to try it – even if I happened to be there when people were toking up. I would just pass the joint to the next person without trying it. I pretty much just wanted to have my senses about me when I was out in the neighborhood. I remember this other kid, maybe a couple years older than me, from our Unitarian Community (they wouldn’t call it a church). He was a bit of a stoner. One time he was walking home from a party (this was maybe a half mile from my house) and a Mexican gang jumped him, held him down, and cut his throat – five parallel cuts like the gills on a shark. Somehow he lived through it. Nope, my neighborhood had enough drama just being sober.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=o5osPtE7kXI
?
Long lead up to the song.
Dropping acid? No thanks, I got enough problems. Just because I recognize your right to put whatever you want into your body doesn’t mean I have to think it’s a good idea or support your decision.
Let’s deep dive into that “recognize your right” vs “support your decision” and… no, never mind, I’m outta covfefe.
Morning. How are things in your neck of the woods?
Morning. Rain, rain, rain. You?
No rain, but I’m still alone in the office, so it’s quiet.
I’m worried my caffiene supply might run low though.
Run out of caffeine?? HOW CAN YOU BE EXPECTED TO WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS?!?!?!
I still have about half of what I started the day with…
Nevermind that there are still eight hours before I am supposed to leave.
Everywhere I have ever worked subscribed to a coffee service and a pot was brewing around the clock.
You should file a complaint.
I can’t drink coffee. It is actually too much caffiene and it feels like my heart is going to explode after one cup.
You can use the coffee to caffeinate your other, weaker beverages.
That sounds like it would taste awful.
I think our rain has finally let up and the flooding was not nearly as bad as we were expecting. I think Sloopy and Banjos got most of it.
No more damage to your trees, I hope?
Sadly yes. Yesterday morning I heard a crack and a crash. Another pine that was fractured badly finally gave up the ghost. No warning, just a loud pop and crash. I think the weight from the protracted rain did it in.
Geez, I have never seen this many trees fall this long after a storm. Hell, I am scared to walk in the woods.
Yikes! Please be careful! Got a helmet?
I can see it now:
Southen in forest with helmet on.
Tree falls on Southen.
Southen is driven neck-deep into the bayou like a nail into a board.
Southen : “I at least my head’s intact.”
Good morning, gentlemen. It’s fair and 52 degrees F here, with the prospect of Partly Cloudy and a high of 80 degrees, and no psychedelic dragons in the forecast.
Good morning Ma’am. I had to run to the store earlier and it is a bit muggy but in the mid-seventies. You can send us some of that 52 degree stuff this way when you are ready.
I am really waiting for our first frost. The red bugs and skeeters are so bad it is hard to believe.
We had a bit of a cool snap last weekend, but I welcome at least one more warm-up this season. I want to be able to hang out on my back porch on weekend mornings as late into autumn as possible.
Oh, and the ticks. God I hate ticks.
I used to have a pair of golden eagles that nested in a pine within sight of my front porch. They ate a lot of cotton tails. The eagles disappeared for some reason I dont know and now the place is crawling alive with cotton tail rabbits whose job seems to be running around casting ticks like confetti.
Later today I will don my official yard work attire: deck shoes, cut off jeans, t-shirt, pistol, machete and ONE GALLON OF DEET.
*Wife was teasing me last week by humming ‘Froggie went a’ courtin’ under her breath. Is that even still a thing? Is that in the repertoire of children’s books any more?
It was when I was wee shaver. Problematic now, to be sure…
That is what I suspected.
A couple of months ago my neighbor saw me in the yard so he wheeled up on his 4-wheeler and we chit chatted a bit. Wife came out and talked with us. After he left she said “He was wearing a gun. You were wearing a gun. I heard the neighbors on this side target shooting. I heard the neighbors on that side shooting. I heard the usual guy that has a range on his property shooting.
Almost anywhere else in the world people would be horrified by that and yet here no one blinks or gives it a second thought. ”
Me – “Yes, I know. That’s why we moved here. I feel right at home. The sound of gunfire every day is comforting to me. Where we lived before all of the gunfire was at night. “
We used to have snowshoe bunnies everywhere in the woods. Leopard frogs and garter snakes were all over the yard, wood piles, etc. For 30 years I have rarely seen any of them. This is the first year I’ve seen leopard frogs, not a lot, but some. Only 1-2 garter snakes. Not a bunny, not a grouse but lots of deer (relatively speaking). Eagles aren’t unusual, nearly a daily occurrence.
Wood ticks vary, this was a down year but I still caught the Lyme Disease but it’s treatable. Because of the CWD we’re allowed to shoot unlimited does, as long as we have the supplementary $1.50 license.
You are in Minnesota? I didnt know you had any snakes up there at all.
I saw a garter snake a few days ago. It was in an area where the grass was thick and tall. I startled it and it slid away a yard or so then reared it’s head up 8 or so inches to the same height of the grass. It was very obviously trying to appear to be a blade of grass and see what I was up to. A slight breeze kicked up and as the grass swayed the snake moved exactly in sync with the grass. Clever.
Come to think of it….a week or so ago I heard my little dog barking like mad in the back yard so I looked to see what the row was about. He had chased a speckled king snake up onto the back porch. I went out to rescue the snake. It was about 2 feet long or so.. I picked him up by the tail and before I could drop it into a bucket it feigned biting me 3 or 4 times by just pecking my hand with its nose. After it was in the bucket I noticed something I had never seen before: it curled up in the bucket and tapped its tail rapidly on the bottom of the bucket. It was trying to trick me into thinking it was a rattlesnake. Poor guy was terrified but putting on a brave face.
I took it outside the fence, out of reach of the dogs, and let it go. Who would have thought reptiles could be so clever.
It is 70 in the office right now.
I don’t want to be at work today.
Unless we get a bunch of returned mail today, I’m not going to have enough to do. I’d get in some sneak-reading on my Nook, but New Co-Worker – who is doing an outstanding job – is borrowing the office directly across from mine from our Work-from-Home co-worker, and NC-W is still coming to me fairly frequently with questions. Gotta try to look half-assed busy.
Speaking of reading, did you finish the last story in Lucid Blue yet?
Not yet. That’s what I’d like to finish. Travis is having his powers tested by the BHA.
It gets less boring before the end. đ
That reminds me – today is “What We’re Reading” Day, isn’t it?
Ah, but it’s not boring – he’s hiding certain things from “the authorities.” Any maybe not just to keep his premiums low? Just a guess…
Yes it is.
Me neither
If we both stay strong, we can make it to the end of shift.
Once I get started, it’ll be ok.
Dropping acid is a blast as long as you donât get carried away with the dose or arenât in a bad mood when you do it or have any underlying and undiagnosed mental issues. Watching the walls undulate isnât the most enjoyable thing, for me anyway, but lower doses are pretty fun.
We used to eat LSD and mushrooms like candy but as Blackjack stated, it seems to have a cumulative effect. Last time I did either was probably ’95 or so. I’d never dare take it now. Let that rock sit undisturbed, I’ve got enough to feel miserable about without a deep dive into my psyche.
Mornin’ All! Damned if Blackjack didn’t live a parallel existence to my own, difference being he grew in LA and I grew up, well, here. The dude can spin a yarn and the memories from that time come flooding back. Some good and few really bad. I’ve told him before that we would either be best friends or mortal enemies at that age. Flirting with the dark side has consequences that you don’t parse until life sneaks up behind you and kicks you in the balls, especially at 13-18. I’m glad that he’s so successful as a Man and a Father today.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”
Not always. Glad you survived, Festus. I need someone to take me fishing
/Looks at politicians.
“Why do you have so many anchors for such a small boat?” “See now, this knot is called a half-hitch…”
Hope all is well for you folks. We’re dry but did get a little rain a night or two ago, just not enough. I like to go into fall with a wet understory, When spring comes and the snow melts the likelihood of fires diminishes if the ground is wet. I dug in the garden yesterday, absolutely bone dry.
The leaves are about peak color, beautiful, for another 2-3 weeks, then reality sets in like an Ansel Adams photo. Fall is too short.
I thought you didn’t drink coffee, UCS.
I don’t drink coffee. I take lower dose caffiene from other beverages.
I drink precisely one giant mug of tea every morning. Coffee doesn’t taste right and angers up my bowels.
Everything is just turning here but we had such a wet summer and still haven’t had a frost. When the yellow comes it should be spectacular if we ever get some of those cobalt blue skies for a backdrop. Mornin’ Dad!
https://www.wfmz.com/news/area/southeastern-pa/quakertown-to-offer-full-time-in-class-learning-for-k-5/article_7e827f3e-fee2-11ea-b451-137eb0fdfe36.html
Local news. The area I’m in still has some sense, apparently.
Our local news is full of school districts that started back with at least some in-person classes but are shutting down due to COVID cases (symptomatic or not – I don’t know.) Or one of their sports teams is being quarantined. Or their Homecoming parade has been cancelled.
Poor kids paying for the folly of adults.
“We’ll always have under the bleachers.”
https://www.wfmz.com/news/bank-manager-finds-9-07-carat-diamond-in-arkansas-state-park/article_588e0342-5ef4-583d-a154-524c9db04ba0.html
Not local, but still kinda cool.
But what about the color and clarity? I know it’s probably not cut yet.
There is a picture…
At a glance, it looks to my uneducated eye as if it might get cut into a bunch of the subpar stones the jewelers try to pawn off on a gullible public as “chocolate diamonds.”
Which didn’t load.
My work network is stupid.
https://www.amazon.com/photos/shared/6dytY3wZSv6DiwJT97Ih2w.7ddjhN973wy93PuLMGMvjt
So, brown and opaque.
That is cool. Read about that place before.
I never got the diamond thing. They are useful for cutting and polishing stuff but aside from that they are totally useless. I vaguely remember that the DeBeers family had umpteen shitloads of them on their land in SA and cooked up the ‘Everyone needs a diamond wedding ring’ thing as a marketing scam so they could sell what was otherwise worthless.
A lot of things are valued merely for being pretty and have no practical function.
My ex wife
Pretty much. Marketing for the win! Much like Valentines day, Mother’s day and whatever Xmas has become.
That’s on my list of places to visit
Gah! Blocked out this afternoon for some serious outdoor choring and it’s gonna piss rain all day. Small stuff inside and beer it is then! Have a window of opportunity on Saturday to make a start of it. Winter is coming.
“Winter is coming”.
And staying and staying, for which I’m grateful, keeps the left/right coasters from being a nuisance. The locals will all head South as soon as the election is over and they’ve “done their civic duty”
Yesterday the Census Person showed up again (always a different person), that’s the 3rd time. There is something about “2 people live here” that doesn’t seem to register. One threatened me with “You won’t be counted”. Ruined my day.
You won’t be counted by them but plenty of folk count on you for the Honey Harvest. Fuck them Revenuers!
Please don’t let anyone ruin your day – certainly not census workers!
Release the Tiger-Wife!
GT, I should have added sarc, I thought it was hilarious, OMG, I’m not going to be counted, whatever will I do…