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Awesome 1960s Timothy Leary ‘Twelve O’Clock High’ watch
10:39 am


Timothy Leary

Since I don’t wear a watch, I thought I’d throw this one out there to you fine folks since this sucker seems right up our readership’s strasse. It’s a really cool Timothy Leary watch from the 1960s. Each hour on the watch is tagged as some type of drug.

As in “It’s a quarter to meth” or “Half-past hash.”

According to the listing on eBay the watch still works.

From eBay seller the-image-builder:

“This watch has been in a box for about 45 years. It was given to me and I am the only owner. It does have some scratches on the face and body. Please look carefully at the photos.”

The watch is listed at $275 and so far has zero bids. I’d wear the shit out of this.



Posted by Tara McGinley | Leave a comment
That ‘Star Trek’ episode where Jack the Ripper takes over the Enterprise so everyone gets super high
09:08 am


Star Trek
Jack the Ripper

I didn’t want to write this post, but the burden of TV history weighs heavy on my shoulders. The 50th anniversary of Star Trek came and went, and in all the fanfare, I saw no mention of the original series’ single most bizarre episode. Forget the one where they’re back in the 1920s, or the one where they’re at the O.K. Corral with Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, or the one where Kirk and Spock fight Genghis Khan alongside Abraham Lincoln; this right here is the goods.

Before last night, I hadn’t seen “Wolf in the Fold” for about 30 years. I watched it again to make sure my memory was accurate, and I can confirm that this is without a doubt the most insane episode of Star Trek that ever made it to the screen. It is actually even weirder than I remembered. A space séance is involved.

I don’t want to give away much more of the plot, but you’ll see what I mean if I set it up briefly. Kirk, Bones, and Scotty go whoring on the “hedonistic” planet Argelius II, which looks just like foggy London town. Next thing you know, Scotty’s standing over a dead belly dancer with a bloody knife in his hand. Kirk asks what kind of legal process they have in this jerkwater, when the Prefect, making a grand entrance, declares: 

The law of Argelius is love.

Then comes the Jack the Ripper business and the whole crew getting messy on tranks. And there is so much more I’m deliberately leaving out.

Keep reading after the jump…

Posted by Oliver Hall | Leave a comment
Bill Murray is tending bar this weekend at his son’s bar in Brooklyn
12:50 pm


Bill Murray

Bill Murray tending bar at SXSW in 2010
Time Out New York‘s Christina Izzo reported yesterday that Bill Murray would be tending bar on Saturday and Sunday evening at 21 Greenpoint, a Brooklyn restaurant owned by Syd Silver and Bill’s son Homer Murray.

Murray has some experience tending bar—as was widely reported at the time, in 2010 he infamously materialized with Wu-Tang Clan at the Austin bar Shangri-La during SXSW and spontaneously started sloshing tequila into every shot glass he could find before retiring to a corner to hang out with GZA. (Hey, nobody said that Murray was actually good at bartending….)

The news from Time Out New York had the effect of bedazzling those star-struck would-be dipsomaniacs into thinking they’d have Murray running back and forth all evening doling out tequila shots, but alas, the story’s been updated with the news that the two evenings are “a private event” and are “invite-only.” Good luck scoring an invite!

Well, think of it this way, if it were truly open to the public, the place would have been mobbed by thousands of Garfield fans, and who needs that?

Here’s footage of Bill Murray tending bar six years ago at SXSW in Austin:

via Consequence of Sound

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
The UnCola: 7Up and the most psychedelic, LSD-friendly ad campaign of all time
11:42 am



John Alcorn’s “Uncanny in Cans” billboard seems to reference “the girl with kaleidoscope eyes” from the Beatles’ “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
7up has existed as a drink since 1929, but it wasn’t until 1936 that it was given the name 7Up. From the mid-1930s to the early 1950s, the advertising slogan for the drink was “You Like It, It Likes You.” In its incredible directness, simplicity, and dishonesty, it ranks as my favorite advertising slogan of all time.

“You Like It, It Likes You.” Oh, does it now? 1947 advertisement for 7Up
In 1967 ad execs at J. Walter Thompson Company in Chicago pitched a radical repositioning of 7Up as a way of reviving dormant sales of the drink—the idea was to capture the new hippie market for 7Up. The new nickname for the drink was to be “The Uncola” and if you’re older than about 50, you’ll have no trouble remembering that name and possibly a memorable series of TV spots starring Geoffrey Holder.

The Uncola campaign stretched from 1969 to 1975, and it used a wide variety of hyper-colorful, psychedelic posters that reminded many people of Peter Max, even though the images used in the campaign were not done by him. (Max did submit images to J. Walter Thompson, but his designs were not used.)

The Uncola campaign was perhaps advertising’s most adventurous foray into truly psychedelic imagery, even to the point of appearing to endorse LSD use as an activity fit for 7Up-consuming adults.

Much more after the jump…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
Vince Taylor: The leather messiah who inspired Ziggy Stardust

Everything  comes from something else.

David Bowie’s chance meeting with a faded rock star who thought he was Jesus Christ was the first of the building blocks that led to Ziggy Stardust.

Bowie was a teenage Mod fronting his band the Lower Third when he regularly bumped into Vince Taylor at the La Gioconda club in London. Taylor was an “American” rocker who had been a major star in France. By the time Bowie met him, Taylor was a washed-up acid casualty who had fried his brain after ingesting waaaaaay too much LSD.

Taylor was born Brian Maurice Holden in Isleworth, England in 1939. He was youngest of five children. In 1946, the family emigrated to New Jersey, where Taylor grew up on a diet of Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and Gene Vincent. When his sister Sheila dated Joe Barbera—one half of animation team Hannah-Barbera—the family moved to California.

Like millions of other young American teenagers, Taylor wanted to be a rock ‘n’ roll idol. His singing was so-so but he could do a good Elvis impersonation. Barbera offered to manage him. Through Barbera’s contacts Taylor got his first nightclub bookings singing rock standards with a band. He later joked he was only ever chosen to be the singer because of his teen heartthrob looks.

While rock ‘n’ roll was ripping the joint in America, Taylor was surprised to find that back in his birth country the biggest star was a toothsome all-round entertainer called Tommy Steele. With his boy-next-door looks and wholesome cheeky chappy banter, Steele was loved by both the moms and daughters across the land. Taylor figured if this was English rock ‘n’ roll, then he would clean-up with his Elvis routine.

(Sidebar: While Taylor clearly pinched Presley’s act, Elvis later pinched Taylor’s black leather look for his 1968 comeback show.)

When Joe Barbera traveled to London on business—he took Taylor with him. This was when Brian Holden adopted the name “Vince Taylor.” “Vince” from Elvis Presley’s character “Vince Everett” in Jailhouse Rock. “Taylor” from actor Robert Taylor.
Taylor adapted his stage act from Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis. He added a biker boy image—black leather jacket, pants, gloves, and winklepickers. He wore makeup and mascara. What he lacked for in voice, he made up in performance. Taylor was a wild man. Utterly unrestrained. His body jerked as if he’d been hit by 100,000 volts of electricity. He wiggled his hips and thrust his pelvis at the hormonal teenyboppers who screamed his name. He was sex on legs. Vulgar. Nasty. Every parent’s nightmare, every teenage girl’s pinup.

His early shows in England during the late fifties-early sixties brought him a record deal. He cut a few disc and wrote the classic song “Brand New Cadillac” (later recorded by the Clash). Taylor garnered mega column inches in the music press. But when he should have been heading to the top, Taylor sabotaged his own career by failing to turn-up for gigs. The reason? His jealousy.

Before a gig he would phone his girlfriend to check up on what she was doing. If she didn’t answer the phone—off Taylor would pop to hunt down his girl and the man he imagined she was with. This meant his backing band the Playboys often performed the gig without their iconic front man. This unreliability damaged Taylor’s reputation in England. The Playboys split-up and reformed around the band’s one consistent member—the drummer.

To make money to pay his debts, Taylor took a gig in Paris in 1961. He was bottom of the bill. Top of the bill was Wee Willie Harris (later immortalized in “Reasons to Be Cheerful—Part Three” by Ian Dury). Taylor was pissed with the billing. He decided to show the promoters who was King. During rehearsal for the show, Taylor gave one of his greatest most violent most outrageous performances. He was a rock ‘n’ roll animal. The promoters saw their error and gave Taylor top billing.

This gig made Taylor an overnight star in France.
More on the rock-n-roll ‘Naz(arene) with God-given ass,’ after the jump…

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Leave a comment
Cops offer to test your meth for the Zika virus—free of charge!
10:24 am

Current Events

Crystal Meth

The Bath Township Police Department in Michigan is making meth users with Zika contamination concerns an offer they can’t refuse. With a Facebook post containing a “breaking news” graphic warning of reports that crystal meth could be contaminated with the Zika virus, the police department has offered free testing of the drug in the interest of “public safety.”

This is similar to a post made by the Salley Valley Police Department in South Carolina in March offering free screening, adding that they make “house calls.”

Oh you cheeky coppers, everyone knows Zika doesn’t infect DRUGS. This sounds suspiciously like a labor-saving ploy to get meth addicts to come to you with their drugs.

Well played, officers. We almost have to give you credit for this one. Though we’ll have to see if anyone actually takes the bait—Zika is not typically a primary concern for most meth users. Generally speaking, the primary concern of most meth users is WHERE CAN I GET SOME MORE METH.


Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
‘Parents opposed to pot’ and their 10 goofy reasons not to date a stoner
01:36 pm



I’ve been a daily wake-n-bake pothead for 34 or 35 years. When I was a teenager, every morning I used to wait for my parents to leave for work at around 7am and then I’d reach under my bed and grab my stash. To this day I smoke from the minute I wake up until right before I go to bed at night. If I am traveling to another city—or another country—I will arrange for weed to be waiting for me by the time I check into my hotel. I’m good like that!

But I’ve also been a fairly productive member of society. I’m a complete workaholic with an almost cliched midwestern work ethic. I’ve contributed a helluva lot of money in taxes, far more than most people ever have. I’ve made TV shows, documentaries, written and published books, given lectures and worked on the marketing of major Hollywood films, accomplishing this all—I can assure you—while absolutely stoned to the fucking gills. The only thing I don’t like to do while stoned is drive, but I’m a shitty, lead-footed driver to begin as anyone unfortunate enough to have been a passenger while I am behind the wheel can attest to. (My wife hates my driving and I happily ride shotgun. Win/win!)

I’ve got so much excess energy that I need pot to center me and focus my attention. I fly in the face of the notion of the lazy pothead and I’m fairly heroic in my consumption. I can, and have, smoked Rastas under the table. If you’ve ever met me, trust me, I was high. Really, really high. I plan to leave my body to science. Seriously, I’m a definitive study of one!

But I’ve also got several friends who are worth tens and even hundreds of millions of dollars who smoke as much herb as I do. I’m fairly certain there must be lazy potheads out there, but I personally don’t know any of them. Besides that pot’s not cheap.

So I always laugh when I see goofy anti-pot propaganda. What a primitive way of thinking. Pot’s been around since before alcohol and it’s never, ever going to become less popular than it is right now, is it? And at least as far as self-medication goes, cannabis is a whole lot safer than alcohol, oxycontin and methamphetamines, don’t cha think? It boggles the mind why the states at the heart of the opioid epidemic won’t embrace legal cannabis, if not for the sake of giving the drug addicted underclass SOMETHING LESS LIKELY TO KILL THEM to take the edge off of life, but what about using the taxes that would be raised to fund increasingly necessary emergency drug addiction treatment?

It’s probably getting to the point where there are more car accidents caused in Kentucky by opioid addicts nodding off behind the wheel than from drunk drivers. And hemp is legal to grow there, too. Just not legal to bake into brownies and eat.

Which brings me to this goofiness, Ten Reasons NOT to Date a Stoner, a new guide for “teens and college students” published by Parents Opposed to Pot (I’m guessing that this is an individual and not an actual organization, but I could be wrong).

It may seem like an old fashioned thought, but the one you date should be a suitable mate. Consider the type of person you want to marry before getting involved with a stoner. Doing this will save you from short term frustrations and long term unhappiness.

This much is true and is actually sage advice I can get behind myself. If your life revolves around pot, make sure to date or marry someone who enjoys huffing the chronic as much as you do! You can tell a lot about someone from their weediquette.

Their first reason for not getting involved with a stoner is that stoners are…

1. Financially Unstable

This is simply and demonstrably untrue. It’s not even worth wasting any time rebutting.

2.  Addiction Takes Priority

Maybe when there is a panic in Needle Park, but this is pot we’re discussing, no? A tad dramatic here?

3. Competing with a Drug. A relationship is more likely to collapse when an individual expresses a greater interest towards a substance than towards their partner. See one woman’s story: I Smoked Marijuana for Love.

Plenty of people smoke meth for love, too. Your point? And how many people love pot more than their partner? And if you do, what the fuck does this say about your relationship anyways?

4. Guilt. You may experience feelings of decreased self-esteem and self-worth when you feel obligated to “accept” his or her addiction/lifestyle despite your own disapproval.

This sounds suspiciously like “The Homosexual Agenda.” So silly as to not be worth addressing in any way.

Skipping ahead past one about laziness and another about fertility we find that apathetic pot smokers are in fact “energized”! Next they’ll be telling us pot makes you horny…

7. Activists Like to Cause a Racket. If he or she is an activist… good luck. A majority of marijuana users are also “politically active and energized” ... and their “allegiance to the drug” consumes their social calendar and Facebook newsfeed. Even activists will admit to the excessive amount of time and energy they spend at social gatherings and meetings where they aspire to make noise and fight the battle for legalization.

Yeah and some people get all worked up about Pokemon Go, online poronography or support Donald Trump. Bad boyfriends come in many varieties. Better a pothead than a white nationalist I always say.

More after the jump…

Posted by Richard Metzger | Leave a comment
‘Cottonwoodhill,’ the acid-damaged Krautrock LP that can ‘destroy’ your brain
09:15 am


brain damage

Cottonwoodhill (1971) by Brainticket
Unless the CAT scan shows lasting damage, I am forever indebted to my friend Aaron Aldorisio. You see, when we were working together in Amoeba Music’s used rock section some years back, Aaron put this album in my hand and said, “Take the Brainticket, dude.” I thought about it. The cover depicted a woman drowning in a bottomless whirlpool of lysergic nightmares, mind forever blown, and that was kind of scary. But then I remembered the lyrics to Cream’s “World of Pain”; and besides, Aaron talked about his love of GG Allin a lot, so obviously I figured, here is a guy I can trust with my nervous system. Besides, what was I going to do, not take the Brainticket?

The liner notes for the Brainticket record made the ultimate claim to heaviness, a champion brag that remained unchallenged until it was (falsely) alleged, years later, that Ozzy and Priest were programming teens for self-murder. Cottonwoodhill remains a special case. Where godheadSilo’s debut, say, only threatened to ruin your stereo equipment, this here record album by Brainticket threatened to wreck your brain itself. Not your “self-esteem,” not your hand-eye coordination, not your response time or SAT scores or some obscure though vital mental process, but the actual glob of tissue between your ears. Says right there on the jacket! And unlike Hawkwind’s Space Ritual, the kidding-on-the-square ad campaign for which boasted that the Hawklords inflicted “permanent brain damage” on concert audiences, the Brainticket record was banned, it’s said, in several countries and issued with this dire warning:

Only listen once a day to this disc. Your brain might be destroyed!

Hallelujah Records takes no responsability [sic].


Brainticket in the studio (via
Led by Belgian jazzer Joel Vandroogenbroeck, Brainticket was an especially obscure Krautrock group that released three albums during the early ‘70s. This was their first. (Some people insist the band was originally called Cottonwoodhill and the first album titled Brainticket. So what?) They’ve reunited several times since first getting back together in the early ‘80s, and Brainticket released a new studio album last year.

Since posting all of Cottonwoodhill might present a grave danger to public health, I’m only embedding the part where you are peaking, your personality has disintegrated into one billion self-annihilating Nerf balls, and grandma is having you placed under involuntary psychiatric hold. I’m not responsible for the consequences if you listen to this on headphones. Hey, dabblers and Sunday drivers: If you doubt that this music can have serious, lasting effects on your cognitive functions, check out the official Brainticket website. Notice anything? Every single link is dead. Think about that before you push play, and remember: You can’t “un-take” the Brainticket.

Posted by Oliver Hall | Leave a comment
That time Jack Kerouac finked out on helping Allen Ginsberg promote ‘Junkie’

Allen Ginsberg was a hustler. He was always on the make. But if Ginsberg was getting a piece of the pie then everyone was getting some pie—that was the kind of guy he was.

In 1953, Ginsberg was one of the young writers loosely identified as the Beat Generation. There was Jack Kerouac—nominally the Beat daddio who had his first book The Town and the City published in 1950. It was a coming of age novel that lacked the Beat prosody (“spontaneous prose”) that illuminated Kerouac’s later, better known work.

There was John Clellon Holmes who had written Go—a depiction of the hip counter culture world of parties, drugs, jazz and “the search for experience and for love.”

And then there was William S. Burroughs.

Ginsberg had encouraged Burroughs to write. He grooved over the letters he wrote—he dug his style. He told Burroughs to write a book about his experiences as an unrepentant drug addict. Nelson Algren had already written and had published his tale of heroin addiction The Man with the Golden Arm in 1949. The book received rave reviews and won Algren a National Book Award. Ginsberg figured Burroughs—an actual junkie—could deliver a better, more powerful book if only he would sit down and write it.

Burroughs grudgingly took the advice. He had already co-authored an as yet unpublished novel with Kerouac And the Hippos were Boiled in their Tanks in 1945 about the murder of friend and associate David Kammerer by one of the original Beat gang Lucien Carr. The book had been a literary experiment with Burroughs and Kerouac writing alternate chapters. Now he would give the facts of his life some color in the manner of Thomas De Quincey—writing the semi-autobiographical Junkie: Confessions of an Unredeemed Drug Addict.

Ginsberg helped edit the book. Then he brought it to Carl Solomon—a publisher contact he’d met at Greystone Park Psychiatric Hospital in New Jersey where both men received treatment. Solomon’s uncle was publisher A. A. Wyn—owner of the pulp paperback firm Ace Books. Through Ginsberg’s endeavors, Solomon convinced his uncle to publish Burroughs novel—written under the alias “William Lee”—as part of the Ace imprint.
Ginsberg as ‘seen by Burroughs’ on the rooftop of his Lower East apartment, New York, 1953.
Kerouac’s reply and Burroughs’ ‘Junkie,’ after the jump…

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Leave a comment
Narcos en fantasyland: Pablo Escobar’s 1981 trip to Walt Disney World
09:21 am


Pablo Escobar
Disney World

The Escobars visit Frontierland at the Magic Kingdom in 1981
The Escobars visit Frontierland at the Magic Kingdom in 1981

In the early ‘80s, Pablo Escobar was at the top of his game. He was the richest man in Colombia, he had the family he had always dreamed of, and he was supplying 80% of the world’s cocaine via the Medellín drug cartel. The best part for Escobar was that he was not yet a known criminal. Just a few years later he would be outed as a drug lord, a merciless killer, and he would become the biggest target in Reagan’s “war on drugs” facing a real threat of extradition. For now, he was still legally doing business, buying properties, and traveling under his own name. He used his political influences in Colombia to gain diplomatic immunity and a visa which allowed him to visit the United States as often as he wanted with red carpet treatment.

In May of 1981 Pablo used those privileges to vacation in Walt Disney World Florida with his family. His sister Alba Marina Escobar helped organize the trip and Pablo was joined by his wife Maria Victoria Henao, his five-year-old son Juan Pablo, his mother Hermilda, brother Roberto, and cousin Gustavo Gaviria. The Escobars left their Miami Beach vacation home which was supposedly rented from Julio Iglesias and one of the Gibb brothers of the Bee Gees, then headed 230 miles north to Orlando. While Pablo did not yet have any enemies or scores to settle with the law, his growing economic power made it necessary for him the use bodyguards for the very first time so friend John Jairo Arias Tascon (aka “Pinina”) accompanied the family to the Disney theme park.

The Escobar family reportedly spent ridiculous amounts of money on their vacation, filling dozens of suitcases with souvenirs and clothing. Pablo hired a personal consultant to advise them on attractions as well as a driver to escort them around. Free to do and buy whatever they wanted to in the park, Pablo was overjoyed and acted like a child alongside his son Juan Pablo. Although he was afraid of roller coasters, Pablo rode them all to make his son happy. “Our family life hadn’t yet become encumbered by complications. That was the only period of pure pleasure and lavishness that my father enjoyed,” said Juan Pablo (who later changed his name to Sebastian to protect his anonymity) in his book Pablo Escobar, My Father.

The hit Netflix series Narcos even brushed on the Escobar’s trip to Disney World in a recent episode titled “Deutschland 93.” In a scene where a very emotional Pablo (brilliantly played by Brazilian actor Wagner Moura) is reflecting on his past, he asks “Have you ever been to Disney World? It’s beautiful. It’s very organized. Very clean.” Pablo definitely kept the Disney spirit and thirst for fun alive at Hacienda Nápoles, his vast and awe-inspiring ranch in Colombia about 100 miles east of Medellin. The ranch which put Michael Jackson’s Neverland to shame included three zoos full of exotic animals, 27 artificial lakes, go-karts, and even a mechanical bull. In 2014 a private company appropriately turned the ranch into a fully operational theme park which includes a Jurassic Park simulator. “Pablo World” (if you will, whose mascot is a female Hippo named Vanessa) is currently accessible to anybody with 32.000 pesos (around $15) willing to sit through a three-and-a-half hour bus ride from Medellín.
Pablo's son Juan Pablo meets Mickey Mouse in Tomorrowland
Pablo’s son Juan Pablo meets Mickey Mouse in Tomorrowland
The Escobars walking through the Swiss Family Treehouse in Adventureland
The Escobars walking through the Swiss Family Treehouse in Adventureland

Posted by Doug Jones | Leave a comment
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