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The New Smoker
Bringing class to grass™
The New Smoker magazine
Issue No.5 Spring 2015
Editor-in-Chief S.G. Clarke Design Director S.G. Clarke Art Directors SJ George Ram Folger Copy Editor Joe DePatta Contributors Soren Gray Alex Sherman Frank Lauria Clark Greene Daniel Freedman Esjay George Chef Tiffany Friedman Joe De Patta S.G. Clarke Dyson Bronti Sean O’Kief Larry Snelly
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All contents © 2015 The New Smoker. The New Smoker has nothing to do with tobacco or any of it’s related products. The New Smoker magazine is published and distributed by issuu.com. The New Smoker does not condone or endorse any illegal use of any products or services advertised herein. All materials are for educational purposes only. The New Smoker recommends consulting an attorney before considering any business decision or venture. We take no responsibility for the actions of our readers. A number of characters and images appearing in this magazine are parody, satirical or fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons, living, created, or dead, is purely coincidental.
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ISSUE No.5 CONTENTS: IT’S GOOD TO GET HIGH Why getting high might be the best thing for you.
HIGHLY FIT Exercising high is a great way to get fit and have fun
GLITCHES: PART 5 Continuing a fiction of truth.
A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL 27. Rockin’ n Rollin’ with Jesse Hughes of Eagles of Death Metal HIGH ART A look at the mind-bending digital game art of Ken Wong
GETTING HIGH WITH... “GETTING DOUG WITH HIGH” 38. A night out with Doug Benson, Sarah Silverman, Brian Posehn, Eric André, Rory Scovel, & Todd Glass A SILVER LINING: FROM 9/11 TO BALTIMORE 44. The twisted policies of racism, inequality, and the war on drugs. TAHOE O.G. KUSH STRAIN REVIEW A cool review of a chill indica EARTHQUAKE A short story of a long ride.
CHEF TIFF’S RECIPES Spring recipes from Chef Tiffany Friedman
FRANK TALES - A MINGUS AMONG US 58. Jazz legend Charles Mingus “borrows” Frank’s tape machine. MOVIES OF A CLASSIC KIND If you haven’t seen these classic flicks, it’s high time you do.
MY 1ST TIME. Is 12 years old too young...?
TEN SIGNS YOU MIGHT SMOKE TOO MUCH WEED. Number 0: You can relate to everything on the list.
Notes from a New Smoker Welcome to the fifth issue of The New Smoker magazine: (1st anniversary edition)
It’s Good To Get High.
s we move into the second half of the second decade of the second millennium, the future seems to be all the more... present. We make technological and cultural leaps and bounds almost every other month it seems. There may be some resistance to progress, as there always is, but it feels like we are achieving things we couldn’t dream of a decade ago: Equality for gay marriage: Oculus Rift; the iWatch, Elon Musk’s Powerwall, and most relevant to us, more and more states go “green” and legalize marijuana in one way or another.
s of writing this, there are now 23 states -plus D.C.- in the United States with legal marijuana laws on the books, either medicinal or recreational. Even Puerto Rico, a U.S. state in everything but name, recently has decriminalized marijuana to a large degree. That’s almost half the country. And come the 2016 Elections there are sure to be many more. The tipping point has topped. It’s time to just admit it.
e might not have flying cars one of this mystery of “How for everyone, nor world high am I gonna get on peace or human equality, but we this...?” and find oneself on the have convenient electric pocket wrong side of a strong high. vape pens that get us nice and high nstead, to be able to immediatewith a push of a button, which is ly dial up a creative high, or a pretty cool. Priorities are relative. relaxed movie watching buzz, or a leasure is usually the main deep sleep stone - all in a nontoxic motivator in most situations. form- that would be amazing. Many major recent technologies omething that could monitor have been propelled by the sex inones health stats and recomdustry: Cinema, Video, DVDs, the mend, then dispense, just the vast majority of this thing called ideal dose you might want to take the internet. Not to mention the steady advancement from sex toys relative to your needs. Maybe into the sex robot industry. (That something you could wear on your may be where the first true A.I.s wrist... The High-Watch. There begin to come from: the Pleasure you go. Someone get on that and bots. Emotive machines.) get back to me. Thanks.
nd maybe in this soon-to-be ust give me sole credit for the not-so-distant future we will idea and 10% of the gross,. The have developed cannabis technolrest I’ll leave up to you. ogy so far that we will be able to uff puff pass... achieve the Holy Grail of highs: the Perfect Hit. One hit from a classy device where a person can click-in the ideal dosage of high one wants to get. EDITOR- IN-CHIEF
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GOOD to get
HIGH When recreational IS medicinal. By CLARK GREENE
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was probably 5 or 6 years old when I first got high. Some other kids were doing it at the parent-teacher night in the school gymnasium. It looked like fun, the way the other kids were laughing and acting all goofy. I thought maybe I’d try it and see what all the fuss was about. I wasn’t exactly sure how until one of my friends pulled me aside and showed me. I stared up at a school gym ceiling and spun in circles with my arms out, round and round and round, until I fell down and the room kept spinning around me, leaving me tingling and giggling. It was so much fun I did it a few more times, until I suddenly got sick on the stain-proof lacquered basketball court school gym floor and my parents had to take me home. I guess I hadn’t built up my tolerance to Whirling Dervish levels yet.
“We all want to do what makes us feel good... do things that give us pleasure. We are all in pursuit of happiness.” If there ever was such a thing as a “gateway drug”, getting myself super dizzy was mine. It made me see the world in a new way, gave me tingly feelings I’d never had before, and I wanted to explore more. 8
The Pleasure Principle.
uphoria is a powerful seductress. With so many different ways to get high we all seek our own ways to find her. Drugs, obviously, first come to mind, but also sex, food, exercise, roller-coasters, bondage, art, music, profound plays, horror movies, etc... all lead us to lovely luscious intriguing and enticing Euphoria. They all get us high in one way or another. We all want to do what makes us feel good. We are driven by the search of things that make us feel euphoric, things that give us some amount pleasure. We are all in pursuit of happiness. Psychologists call this base nature guiding force, “The Pleasure Principle” or Lustprinzip in German. In Freudian psychology Lustprinzip is the instinctual seeking of pleasure, and avoidance of pain, in order to satisfy biological and psychological needs. For ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus, as well as more modern British philosopher and social reformer Jeremy Bentham, the role of pleasure is deemed a major force in directing human life. As Bentham states: ”Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure”.[*]
In basic terms, we turn use the words hedonistic from pain and aim for and Bacchanalian as way pleasure. We all want to to express extreme pleasfeel good. And getting ure seeking behaviors. high, in whatever ways we Nowadays, one might may choose, makes us feel think of the annual Burngood. ing Man festival as a modWith this natural grav- ern example of this kind itation to pleasure, dif- of over-indulgence of the ferent schools of thought senses. An excessive celhave developed in differ- ebration of intoxicants, ent societies on how best art, music, dance, sensual to deal with this driving pleasure, etc. imperative. Hedonism is Whether it be partying the basic philosophy that on a massive scale like argues that pleasure is the Burning Man, raves, and primary, or at least the music festivals or somemost important, intrinsic thing more simple as a good of one’s basic nature. glass of wine after a hard A Hedonist strives to max- days work, or a puff of imize pleasure. And he- weed before going on a donists have been around Sunday hike in the hills, since earliest history. there are many ways and One of the first re- benefits to getting high. corded accounts of this hedonistic philosophy Getting High is was in the original Old Healthy. Babylonian version of the ancient Sumerian Epic of oing out partying Gilgamesh, written circa on a Friday night 2100 BC. In it, main charafter a hard week acter Siduri gives the fol- of work or school is a nalowing advice “Fill your tional past time in many belly. Day and night make countries, especially the merry. Let days be full of United States. It’s socialjoy. Dance and make mu- ly accepted behavior and sic day and night... These understood as blowing off things alone are the con- steam and relaxing. cern of men.” Scientifically, we have Then came the ancient come to know one of the Greek Dionysian Mys- major causes of illness is teries, and later Roman stress. Therefore, if one Bacchanal cults, which can relieve the pressures allowed initiates to cel- of stress in various ways ebrate and take part ex- of getting high, it will help cessively in many of the decrease one’s risk of displeasures of life: food, sex, ease and illness (dependwine, drugs, music, etc... ent always on the ways often to a level of such and amounts one gets extremes that people now high.)
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Smoking a pack of cigarettes in a day versus going running for an hour is an obvious example health-wise of bad vs. good, respectively. But one can also run too much and do more damage to one’s body than having one cigarette every so often. The key is, and most people tend to agree, everything in moderation. When one finds balanced ways to relieve stress, one tends to be naturally happier with oneself and one’s surroundings.
“If getting high produces dopamine, which boosts your immune system , then you are fighting illness every time you get high” There have been recent studies done on how increased levels of dopamine (a main chemical in the brain that produces feelings of euphoria) help the body increase strength in its immune system. One recent such study: “The Dopaminergic System in Autoimmune Diseases” by Rodrigo Pacheco, Francisco Contreras, and Moncef Zouali, suggests the linkage of the immune system to dopamine is a direct one, and regulating the dopaminergic system equally effects the autoimmune system. Basically, the study says the more dopamine you can produce in your system the more resistant to
illness you become. And if getting high produces dopamine, then you are, in a very real sense, fighting illness every time you get high. But maybe not too high.
Too Much of a Good Thing?
f increased endorphins and dopamine levels in the brain help us both mentally and physically, then the question really isn’t: Is getting high good? But instead: When is getting high bad? This is where abuse and addiction come in. Being hard-wired for seeking pleasure, which was born out of a vital imperative for species survival, (e.g. the need to eat sweet or salty things to get important nutrients, or having sex to procreate the species, etc…), now creates, in our modern societies of plenty, higher probabilities of abuse of said pleasures. It’s become quite easy to overindulge, with sometimes unhealthy results. Primitive urges still rule our behaviors. Even if we are socially and technologically quite different from our hunter-gather ancestors, we are still the same physiologically. Sugar and salt were hard to come by in the primal ages of human development. And as these things were/are vital for survival, the urge to ingest these types of food is
Images sourced from 123RF
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a strong one that drives us to this day. You only have to look at the rising obesity rates world wide in developed nations with sugar/salt packed processed foods. It’s extremely easy to overdo the things that give us pleasure. A pint of ice cream instead of a handful of grapes wins almost every time. It can take consistent will power, or maybe even mental rewiring, for some to overcome the urges to over-indulge. But eating cookies and having cocktails every so often makes one feel good; takes away the stress, if momentarily. Even the occasional binge eating or drinking can have it’s temporary emotional benefits, loosen some emotional knots, even if you may feel like crap the next day.
“We all want to play, have fun and do crazy stuff. But we also ... want have some order and control over our lives.” In certain measured doses one can enjoy a number of highs, sometimes simultaneously, without ever getting oneself into danger. It’s only when the need to get high takes over one’s world and one indulges in unhealthy amounts, that’s when it becomes a problem. It can keep one from being able to live a healthy productive life in society and negatively effects 10
Images sourced from 123RF
Stoned Cold Sober those around them. hen you have too much open excess, eventually there will be strong reactions against it. A push back from those who believe that pleasure and indulgence are bad for individuals and/or society as a whole. From Epicurean Hedonism on one side... to those on the other side with Puritanical Spartanistic beliefs. The kinds of beliefs that all pleasures are bad or sinful and are to be avoided, especially those of the body; or that it’s hardship that develops true character, instead of a variety of experience; or that one must actively suppress one’s base natures to overcome the sensual temptations that will lead to one’s eventual destruction; that the rational mind must conquer the emotional body, etc. These opposing philosophies and religions -Hedonism vs. Spartanism, Decadence vs. Puritanismin a sense represent outward manifestations of the internal struggles in all of us. We all want to play, have fun, do crazy boundary-pushing stuff. But we also tend to want have some order and control over our lives. And just like we have some extreme partiers who won’t give it up and rave on till the end
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of the world; we also have the other side’s extremists who would chastise and damn anyone having any sort of illicit fun. (The film Footloose and banning dancing in some religious counties comes to mind. Or Prohibition). The problem is that there is not indulgence, or lack thereof... it’s extremism. It’s the loud extremist minorities that seem to dictate our laws and not the moderate majority of people who can enjoy things without overindulging.
“The problem isn’t really the drugs themselves. Drugs are just tools that can both harm and help us in many ways.” While certainly some drugs are more physically addictive than others, and thereby make it more difficult to retain self control (Alcohol and sugar are more physically addictive than cannabis or magic mushrooms, for example), recent studies have shown that chronic addiction might often be more about personal life circumstances, than about chemical dependency, or genetic predisposition. The so called Rat Park study[**] is one such example. It shows that when a lab rat is given more than just a bare cage, food, water, and a drug laced water bottle to choose from, when they have access to
many fun toys and mazes and wheels and other rats to play with, they will chose to do more than just take the addictive pleasure drug. It seems choice of comfort and company and activity become more enticing than the drug by itself for most rats, and generally most people. They give the example of how most people who receive high doses of medicinal opiates like morphine and demerol during extensive hospitalization don’t generally continue to use, then abuse, those drugs. When they get home and have healed, they tend not to go out and score heroin to help fix a new addiction to opiates. Most just go through a few days of withdrawal symptoms and get back to their normal lives. Again, the problem isn’t really the drugs themselves. Drugs are just tools that can both harm and help us in many ways. The real problem is over-use/ abuse: sex-aholics, over eaters, anorexics, alcoholics, hoarders, meth-heads, etc. The one thing they all share are extreme behaviors. A person with a tendency for extreme drug abuse, usually stemming from personal issues and coping mechanisms, will find one way or another to abuse something else. The trick for these types of people is finding the healthiest way to channel their extreme over-urge.
Why get High?
odern society has created many new challenges and problems our bodies and minds aren’t designed for. All of which can drive any of us a bit nutty. For example, our ancient ancestors were very physical and on the move for 60-90 percent of the their day: hunting and gathering, or roaming as herding nomads. These days most of us now are sedentary for almost 90 percent of the time, with our office jobs and driving to and from work, and sitting in our couch to watch TV, and then off to sleep. Rinse and repeat. Not much real physical movement there. If we simply go out for a walk or bike or hike or swim or yoga we end up feeling a euphoric high of sorts and our daily stresses leave us, if just for a moment. But not everyone always has access to that kind of physical escape. Or maybe activity doesn’t aid a particular psychological/emotional problem that’s built up overtime. So we’ve learned to turn to other ways of relieving life’s pressures, from that glass of wine at the end of a long day, to taking psychedelic mushrooms on a camping trip to untie years worth of emotional knots, to practicing deep mediation and gain some
serenity. So again it’s not getting high that’s the problem, it’s how one gets high. Many sober purists would argue, “Just get high on life.” Which is to say, don’t use any substances to get high. And while this works for some people, it doesn’t work for everyone. Just like getting high on substances doesn’t work for some people who like to stay in control at all times. People who take drugs to get high are said to self-medicate. Which implies something is wrong with them. But this is not usually the case. Enthusiasts might instead say they are using drugs to enhance reality: to improve their emotional state, or maybe to regulate their attention and increase their productivity or creativity. Not to escape reality, but investigate it. To look under the surface and get a deeper understanding. And while some drugs left in the hands of the unstable,unsupervised uneducated amateurs can produce undesired effects; the right drugs (legal or illegal) given the right doses in the right way... can work miracles. What we need is a deeper knowledge, more research of how various drugs, various highs, affect people differently. And then we can use them in positive ways to help people ease the stresses in their lives. 11
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Help us all live a better, happier, fulfilled, and even enlightened life. MDMA (the rave drug, known as Molly or Ecstasy, in pure form) has recently come back into use in therapy. It was originally used, before it became a party drug and then illegal in the 1980s, for certain trauma patients as a way of helping them open up. Psilocybin “magic” mushrooms have recently been looked at as having therapeutic potential as well. And while these drugs aren’t as dangerous as some, they aren’t the healthiest substances to get one high.
The Healthiest High on a given substance
s one of our most ancient, natural, and widely used drug in the world, on all social levels, presidents to paupers, princes to performance artists, prostitutes to priests, Cannabis is perhaps the most ubiquitous, and in a way, most unifying illicit drug on the planet. And naturally so. Cannabis is the one drug that actually fits with our body’s chemistry. It’s completely natural and non-toxic (depending on how it’s processed and consumed). Not only non-toxic, but can aid in many of the body’s functions. Alcohol, one of the oth12
er most commonly used drugs on the planet, is actually a poison to the body. The drunk feeling one gets, and the corresponding hangover the next day, is the body trying to process this poison. When in low doses, this poison is physically manageable and the health benefits of increased levels of dopamine and endorphins outweigh the health risks of the alcohol’s poison. Which is why they say a glass of wine a day is good for you. To relax. To de-stress. It’s when one starts drinking a whole bottle a day the various health problems take over and become apparent. Also, if you drink too much alcohol too quickly, it will simply kill you. So there’s that.
“The health benefits of cannabis are so far-reaching & varied: from increasing appetite & inspiring creativity; to even possibly curing cancer” Not so with cannabis. It is almost physically impossible to overdose on marijuana. The effort of trying would most likely kill you first. Cannabis contains cannabinoids (e.g. THC and CBDs) that our bodies are built to receive and do not treat as an invading substance. They are even welcomed as physiological aids. These cannabinoids connect to our endocannabinoid system which is
“a group of neuromodulatory lipids and their receptors in the brain that are involved in a variety of physiological processes including appetite, pain-sensation, mood, and memory. It also mediates the psychoactive effects of cannabis.” [Wiki] This is why the effects and benefits of cannabis are so far-reaching and varied: from increasing appetite and inspiring creativity; to stopping seizures, and even possibly curing cancer (science pending). The various cannabinoids aid in many of our body’s functions and help with things like, pain, lack of appetite, depression, lack of focus, and more. But as much as we have been able to hone in on what may or may not work for certain individuals, we still need more in-depth scientific research to find which combination of the over 500 different chemical compounds in cannabis help which particular ailments best in what particular ways. Not just what they do separately, but what they do working together in conjunction. It’s called the Entourage Effect, in which the combined effect of the various compounds in cannabis work together to provide the ideal impact. The energy of high levels of the psychoactive cannabinoids THC in a certain strain can be balanced
by the mellowing effects of it’s body relaxing CBDs. Strip away the CBDs and leave just the THC and one might get overly stimulated, agitated, nervous, and paranoid. Take away the THC and the left over CBD might make one too lethargic and unmotivated, or induce no euphoria to elevate the emotions of someone who might be down and need some uplifting. Now, if we could just create a perfect strain and a perfect way to induce “the perfect high”.
The Perfect High.
chieving a balanced level of elation, insight, enhanced awareness, relaxation, emotional uplifting, larger sense of self, connection with others and everything around, fascination with even the mundane… these are some of the main qualities generally sought by those who enjoy getting high. Especially for those who enjoy getting high on marijuana. With alcohol it’s much easier to gauge what a shot, or one beer, or glass of wine will do to you and how you’ll feel. Not so with cannabis. Its various levels of strength depends on the strain and the grower. So one hit of one kind
(continued on page 77)
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ontrary to popular opinion, consuming cannabis is a proactive experience. It often not only makes boring things more fun to do, it also enhances many exciting activities and allows one to enjoy things even more profoundly.
Exercising while high can be very beneficial in many ways. Cannabis acts as a broncho-dilator. It helps expand the lungs. It also can enhance one’s ability to mentally focus in on an activity, and even increase one’s understanding and ability to enjoy the experience. Here are a few fun things one can do before, after, during, or intermittently, while enjoying one’s favorite method of cannabis consumption. Joint, bowl, vape, or edible... all are great ways to get out and go.
ne of the easiest and wonderful, full of wonder, ways to enjoy a good active high, is to go for a hike. Cannabis is a natural enhancement of the world around you: Sight, Smell, Sound, Touch, Taste. High-king, or just strolling around pretty places is a great way to enjoy a good high and get some good exercise without even knowing it.
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Tips to getting ready for High-king: - Put on some good shoes and a comfortable outfit. - Grab a little stash of a good sativa and a small one hitter or vape pen. - Go out to a favorite spot, or a spot well recommend by other nature enthusiasts. - Smoke a nice big hit, repack and share if you not alone, bring the rest with you. - Grab a bottle of water. - Head on out while the sun is warm and the world awaits! (Caution: High-king may cause on to want to wander randomly. Be careful to not stray too far off the path... or do.) Recommended strain: Sativa. Jack Herer. Jack always helps motivate you to get outside and get your blood pumping.
ow who doesn’t love a good dip in the water on a hot day... especially after smoking a big fat bowl! The water takes most of your body’s weight and lifts the world’s pressures right off you. Your “high”-tened senses allow you to feel this added ability to relax on deeper levels as you slip, slide, dip, and take a dive in and out of the pool. (Do not try if you can’t swim). Recommended strain: Sativa-domintant Hybrid. Dutch Treat, or Lambs Bread will keep you relaxed while energized and playing in the water like a dancing dolphin. 15
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ennis is a great example of how competitive exercising while high is not only possible, it can be both enhancing and even enlightening. (There’s a reason why they test for drugs at the Olympics) The entire experience for some can become an exercise in fine tuning ones ability on the seemingly simple task of focusing on the ball and getting over the net in the right places. Or finding oneself in a Zen like state, using “the force”, as it were and getting in-tune with the ball and the flow of the game to where one’s ability to compete excels. (Warning: sometimes the opposite is true, and one is so high, one gets distracted so easily, it takes one’s mind out of the game.) Recommended Strain: A straight sativa like Durban Poison. High energy strain for a high energy game. Sativa will keep you on your toes!
lot like tennis, golf is about focus and getting in-tune with the ball and the game and one’s flow, as they say. Also golf has the added bonus of being an outdoor sport where one’s high is allowed free reign. Combined with a slow pace and sometimes Jedi-like abilities to tune into the moment and motion of the act of getting a tiny ball in a tiny cup hundreds of yards away. Or even if you’re no good and can’t hit the ball more than a few feet, High-golfing allows for plenty of time to enjoy the outdoors.
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Recommended Strain: A Sativa dominant Hybrid: Green Candy, Trainwreck. So you can feel energized to play, but relaxed enough to Zen in on the game.
ince smoking marijuana heightens your senses, then why not do something highly sensual? For many people cannabis can be quite the afrodisiac. A good smoke before bedding down with one’s partner can bring an elevated experience where you can feel, taste, smell, touch, immerse oneself in the other. One can even reach new heights one has never been to before and experience new sensations never yet felt. But for some the experience can be too overwhelming with one’s senses on overload. Sometimes just smoking too much can tip the scale from intimate to intense and can make it hard to find the balance. So try smoking just a little bit before and allowing yourself to explore and discover new things with your pleasure partner.
Recommended Strain: A relaxing indica or indica dominant hybrid, like Skywalker O.G., might help get you in the mood. But not something too heavy which might take you too lazy to do much of anything but lay there.
CREDITS: pg. 62 Painting by Caspar David Friedrich “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog” 1818 pg. 63 “Girl at the Sea” Postcard artist unknown Pg. 64 upper image: Painting by John Lavery, A Rally, 1885, Kelvington Art Gallery and Museum. lower image: St. Andrews Golf Vintage Postcard Current Pg. Painting by “In Bed The Kiss” Toulouse Lautrec.
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Glitches Previously: Drifting in and out of various states of consciousness, E found understanding the difference between his friends and his foes to be a lot harder than telling this torn up world from the Next...
By S.G. CLARKE
lowered his eyes from the broken world outside the thick UV filtered window and nestled his chin into the nape of Poly’s neck. He inhaled deeply. Mmmm, she knows I love to come back to the smell of roses. E smiled to himself. Poly wore just a hint of rose oil, so as not to overwhelm him. His senses were always heightened when he awoke back into The Real. Like being slightly smothered for a day, then finally freed. He noticed that ever-present subtle smell just underneath the rose oil. Underneath her skin. That somewhat rubbery smell, like a musky toy broken out of its box for the first time, years after the manufacture date. Something he could never seem to quite get used to... nor enough of. His fingers tingled as he touched her tank-topped bare shoulders and lightly stroked her skin. Her skin felt extra smooth like it was just about to peel after a couple day-old sunburn. He held her tightly, like he might fall and she was the only thing holding him up. The weakness in his legs confirmed this was mostly true. His smile began to feel the weight of gravity plus time, and fell flat. “Are you ok, baby?” Poly asked in worried tones. “I knew you were gone too long this time. Over 15 hours. Your body forgets itself. Come on, let me take 20
you to bed and I’ll grab you something to eat. You must be starving, you barely touched your straw.” She gestured to the mostly full food-tube attached to the chair, right next to the nearly emptied vape-oil mouthpiece with multiple bite marks on its plastic tip from constant use. “I’m fine, love. You don’t need to fuss over me so much. I’m just a little shaky, but I’ll be fine.” That didn’t seem to satisfy her, so E added, “Food sounds great.” Poly perked up with that answer as she opened the iso-chamber door and helped E into the living room beyond. To their left was the wall of windows bathing them in a bright and stabbing sun fully risen above the jagged horizon. She led him to the rusty-legged dining table and sat him on a cracked-plastic chair. E gestured his hand to change the window tint, but remembered himself. “Windows, half tint,” He said aloud, and the Sun’s glare was immediately cut in half throughout the room. Ahhhh, that’s better. “Dena, Go-bar. Chocolate peanut.” E weakly called to the 3-DNA printer mounted on the kitchen counter just opposite the room they’d just come from. The machine perked up as it began to print out the layers of the high calorie food wedge.
IMAGE: Paris post apocalypse by Zlydoc
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“Here.” Poly reached into the fridge next to the counter and pulled out a glass of juice. “Apple with Carrot, your favorite. I just juiced it last night from the end of last week’s micro-garden harvest.” She handed him the glass. Slowly sipping at first, the sweet tangy taste reminded him how much his body needed it and he began to guzzle the rest of the glass. E smiled like a greedy kid and with a now stronger voice said, “Is there any more?” “Only a half gallon. And you might want to save the rest for later. That’s all till next harvest” “One more glass. I need it to wash down the chalky excuse for health-food Dena pumps out”. The 3-DNA machine shuddered a bit as if it had heard the insult. Poly reached for the finished protein bar, then pet the machine’s top plate as if to soothe it. “Ok, one more glass.” And she poured him another. “And how was your day, darling?” E asked through chocolaty chews, half interested, but knew he should check in with what she had been up to. Feeling like she’d been given permission to turn on the talking tap, Poly proceeded to pour out details of all the things she been doing while E had been out. She told him how she’d 22
tended to the various crops in the micro-gardens near the roof: harvesting the ready food; feeding the budding plants from the compost stew; watering the sprouting section with the grey-water. Then she went on about the need for repair in some of those sections and how she was going to need his help with this, that, and the other. E nodded when necessary to feign interest, but was still focused on all of the incomprehensible things that had happened while he was inside: stopping time; impossibly editing Next World’s parameters to his will; Quinn’s quick transformations from friend, to killer, then savior. And what about M. Méchant’s sudden keen re-interest in him? What the hell is going on in there...? E pondered on possibilities. Poly was still jibber-jabbing when she said “… then I went out…” and E’s ears perked up. “What’s that? You went outside again?” E asked re-engaged. “You know I don’t like it when you go out when I’m not here. It’s not safe” “I know, but you were switched in deep, and I needed those parts I was telling you about. Plus it was a full moon last night and clear skies, so it was easy to see.” “Parts? Which parts?” “The ones I told you about yesterday. Replace-
ment wheels and especially the spin pins for my favorite player-machine. I broke another one.” “But you can have Dena make you those.” “They’re never very good when she prints them. Especially the ones that have no blueprint on file. Dena’s best guess never gets it quite right. It’s kinda hard to make true metal from organics. I need real metal that won’t break.” Poly patted the 3-DNA printer consolingly. “You and your analog obsession. I don’t know where you get that. It seems… unhealthy somehow.” “Don’t be so dramatic Eppy, there’s really nothing out there that can hurt me, especially at night.” “It’s the nothing I’m worried about…” E mumbled to himself, and took another tough bite of his Go-bar with some of his stronger teeth. “Anyways” She continued, “I knew I wouldn’t find what I needed in the usual places… and I know you don’t like me to go past the perimeter, much less beyond our Safe Zone. But I don’t know, I just felt the need to go… further.” Poly paused to judge E’s reaction; a blend of concern, consternation, mixed into unsure curiosity. “You took the Electric all the way to Town didn’t you…?” E’s flat tone dropped down in deep disapproval.
“Well all the closest crumbling houses I’ve gone through top to bottom. I know every dusty room, every broken fixture, every stripped device in every single home and shop. And I know the parts I needed just weren’t there.” Poly defended herself. “So, yes I took the truck to town.” “Again? That’s the third time in as many months. I haven’t even gone to Town in… decades. Dad took me once as a small kid, if only to show me why never to go.” Poly made mocking motions with her hand like she’d heard it before “There’s nothing worthwhile out there. You know that.” E continued, “Nothing that we don’t have, or can’t make, at home. Like Dad said, ‘It’s only a sad reminder of what once was and can never be again’. Not to mention, one misstep, one mistake and that’s it. Dead. No more future. No more me...” E drifted along a thought trail he’d been down many times before. “Shit, just stepping outside the front door can be deadly, you know that.” “And you know it’s safer for me. You really shouldn’t worry so much, baby.” Poly put her hand on his head, soothing the worries away. Then leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Fine.” E surrendered, too tired to fight about it. “You’re back. You’re safe. No scratches. That’s all that matters.” He finished
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off his second glass of juice and pushed his chair back to stand. “Did you at least fix the solar-sphere’s weak side while you were out?” “I tried to, but I think I might need your help to connect a few of the replacement panels.” “Well it’ll have to wait. I’m too tired to do anything right now. And the sun is a strong one today. No getting out in that. Maybe tonight, after I’ve had a nap.” E yawned and started towards the back bedroom. “But Eppy, I haven’t told you what I found in town.” Poly followed behind him, ready to help him if he stumbled. “I drove down the hill to the straight roads, and then up along the Mesa. The moon was bright so it was easy to see. I was trying to be safe. I’d even made sure everything was fully charged before leaving.” She talked after him as he went inside the bedroom and then to the small bathroom off to the side and closed the door behind him. She stopped outside and continued to talk to the closed door. “After 20 minutes or so of slowly weaving around the rusty cars on the main road, I finally reached town and headed straight to where another electronics store I recently saw on the old maps was supposed to be. That’s where I got the idea to go. I never knew it was there.” She chatted on about how it must have been destroyed by fire at some
point recently. All while E went about his basic ablutions and relieved himself of all built up bodily pressures. He ran the water to cover the noise. “You know you don’t have to waste water just to cover the sounds of you using the toilet,” Poly teased. That’s not the noise I’m covering. E thought. He was too tired for her excited rambles, especially while he was still trying to work out everything that had just happened in Next World. If I was knocked out while there, but didn’t auto-switch back here… where the fuck did I go?? I’m way too tired right now to have gotten any real sleep. E couldn’t figure it out. Nothing he knew about Next World made most of what he’d just experienced even remotely possible. “Players can’t change the game, but Gamers can change the play” was the old saying. But even that didn’t allow for what he was able to do in there. Finished with his bathroom duties, E opened the door, squeezed passed Poly, and headed over to the big soft bed. Poly had been going on about what might have caused the store to burn down: storm, e-burst, grid flair up, short circuit fire… “Maybe someone set it on fire,” he heard her say and stopped her there. “Ok, ok, that’s enough baby. You know that’s not
possible. There is no one else.” He said patronizingly, like he was repeating something for the thousandth time to a child who just doesn’t want to listen. “How do you know that? I mean I get it that no one has been seen around here since The Crash… since before even your Granddad’s time. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone outside. The Elect can’t be the only ones to survive.” “No one can survive out there Poly. You know this. It’s just not possible. The world is broken. Twisted. Toxic. Dead… Like everyone else.” E’s patience was at an end. “Only The Elect prepared for The Crash. They made The Plan and The Deal and The Deed. That’s the only reason you are here. That’s the only reason I am alive. Everyone outside has been long dead.” E sounded like he was reciting memorized scripture from one of those old vid-clips of religious sermons. “Come on, it’s time for bed.” “But I haven’t even told you the best part of the trip,” Poly continued as she got into bed with E, still obviously excited from her adventure. E sighed deeply. “Can it wait baby? I can barely focus on your words.” E dug his head into his pillow and faced Poly as she laid down beside him and put her hands in his. He closed his eyes. “But it’s important E, I really think there might be... others.” she whis-
pered the last word like it might conjure a demon. “Tell me later, dear.” E yawned, unconvinced. “Now it’s time for sleep.” E could see Poly was excited and anxious to tell him more, but there was no helping his exhaustion. It would have to wait. He reached up and ran his hand through her hair, rubbed the back of her neck to calm her. “I saw something…” She whispered. E felt the ridges on the back of her spine. “Shhhhh.” His middle finger found the third disc down from the top and rubbed around it soothingly. Realizing what E was trying to do, Poly quickly tried to get it out. “Wait, not yet, this is important Eppy. I think I actually saw… saw someone else.” But E was already pushing that third disc like the button it was, and simply switched her off. Her eyes closed slowly and she went limp as a rag doll as he put her arms resting at her sides and left her in sleep mode. Finally hearing the sweet sound of silence, Epsilon Homi let out a big sigh. Muttering to himself, he chuckled as he fell fast towards a deep sleep. “Someone else? There is no one else, my love. It’s just me… only me... always me.”
To be continued next issue. 23
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A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
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Witnessing the wicked devoutness of Father Badass himself: Jesse “The Devil” Hughes As Experienced by SOREN GRAY “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law” - Aleister Crowley
t’s just after 11 at night and Jesse Hughes walks in through his front door like he’s walking on stage. Big black boots below black skinny jeans and a red bandanna tucked into the black back pocket. Tattoos busting out of his black tank top crisscrossed by black suspenders. A cigarette in hand, then mouth, then hand... fingers brushing by his bushy red mustache, almost Nietzschean in its size and strength. His tight-cropped Red-Elvis
slicked back hair only moves slightly as he shakes his head in mid conversation. He’s excited about a lot and has been talking fast since the moment he walked through the door and hugged hello. ------I’d been waiting on Jesse’s couch for the past hour and a half, conversing and carrying on with his gracious girlfriend Tuesday Cross and his cool chill band-mate Eden Galindo. (Both play in Jesse’s other music project Boots Electric, with Tuesday on bass and Eden on guitar.)
IMAGES: Portrait Photographs by S.GRAY
Supposedly they’re supposed to be working out a new song for an upcoming gig at the Viper Room that weekend. But Jesse doesn’t live life by the clock. He lives it more by the cock, you could say. Grabs life by the balls and doesn’t let go. Trying to pin down Jesse is like trying to pick up liquid Mercury in your fingers. Always so close but easily slips away at the last second. He has one of those force-of-nature type personalities. And drug enhanced or not… it’s all
full of warmth, love, and enthusiasm in everything he says and does. He may play the devil, but it’s more a hedonistic devil, not true evil. Do what thou wilt… as it were. At heart Jesse Hughes is all Love. He starts to reminisce about the old music scene of Palm Desert. After a few minutes of him talking I realize this is the interview (or was it a sermon? A confessional, an exorcism…?) and I press the record button on an app on my phone and captured almost 3 hours of chaotic clarity. 27
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esse stands and strides his apartment the entire time, pacing the floor like a tiger in his lair. I lean back on the couch and take it all in. I’ve tried to edit the best of it into what follows, but a lot of other good stuff was left out for the sake of some brevity. ***
Me: Tell me more about the beginning of the desert “generator parties” of the 90’s and the beginning of the “stoner rock” scene. Jesse: The desert’s al-
ways been a place for music. Starting way back when Eric Burden and Jimi Hendrix dragged a generator out into the desert, and took carpet from The Cocktail Ranch, to throw a party. Ever since Black Sabbath played Palm Springs Angel Stadium in 1971 causing a riot. Gram Parsons, Three Dog Night, The Rolling Stones, all have connections to this desert. There’s something about it, this weird desert vibe.
“QOTSA is actually a side project of EODM. It’s true. Eagles started in ’98... two years before Queens” Ever since I was a kid, visiting before I moved there permanently, there was always this youth rock n roll sort of trip going on there for the kids. But it’s also a retirement community for the elderly, so kids are inherently unwelcome. So if you wanted to go anywhere where your party wouldn’t get stopped by the cops, you 28
had to bring a generator. It was just a practical need. Mario Lalli was the only one with a generator. The early parties were always defined by a Frank Zappa-esque obsession, really fucking weird quartet circus-y, heavy instrumental musicianship sort of thing going on. The Sons of Kyuss [Josh Homme’s first band] brought in the desert vibe, the slow vibe… that was just a small fraction of the desert scene until they got really popular and things just took off from there. It was after Kyuss broke up... right when we did the Desert Sessions… which was when Eagles of Death Metal [EODM] really started. We started before Queens [of The Stone Age]. Queens is actually a side project of EODM. It’s true. We started in ’98. Two years before Queens. We had a Death metal vocalist. I should play you some...
Me: You actually had a death metal style when you started? Is that where the name comes from? Jesse: It all started when
Joshua and I, and a couple of friends were at this place called The Beer Hunter. This drunk old man had just put a buncha songs on the jukebox and Winds of Change came on [by the Scorpions] and he was still rockin’ hard. We were laughing at him, and he looked at us and was like “What??”. I was like “Dude, relax. It’s not that rock n roll.” He was like “Dude that’s rock n roll!” and we’re like “No it’s not”. He’s like “It’s fuckin’ heavy metal man” and we’re like “Nooo, it’s not.” And he goes “It’s fuckin’ death metal, it’s the Scorpions!” And Josh goes
“Dude... it’s like the fuckin’ Eagles of death metal”. Then he obsessed on the name for the rest of the night. He’s always been that way. When we were in High School, he always told me I should be a front man. Always believed I should be in show business. Always believed I had it in my blood. He’s always been that dude. Around noon the next day someone’s pounding in my door and my roommate Larry goes and opens it and comes and wakes me up and is like “Dude, Josh is at the door.” So I open the door and he’s standing there and he’s like “What do you think Eagles of Death Metal would sound like?” I was like, “Uhhhh… come in.” We went right to our little studio in the garage and he went right to the drum set with a high hat, a floor Tom, and a snare, and he started doing turtle beats. Like from the band The Turtles. And I played hill-billy rhythm over it. We thought that was funny. Then it really started when Josh had this Desert Sessions thing drop in his lap with Frank Kozick, and he really wanted to fill it with stuff. So he bugged the fuck out of me to do it. I wasn’t that interested to be perfectly honest. But he got me to come do some songs anyways [for sessions 3 & 4]…and that was the beginnings of Eagles Of Death Metal.
Me: That was in ’98. But your first album didn’t come out until 2004. What were you doing until then? Jesse: In the early 2000’s, I was about to finish my undergraduate degree and get married. I’d already started a career in journalism. I was working at the political desk at our local
newspaper. I was politically active. I wanted to start my political career. My original goal in life was to be something like state senator by now. Reagan was one of my biggest heroes. I never thought being “too cool for school” was very cool. I never missed a day of school. Ever. I even got me one of those Perfect Attendance awards.
“My mother was really worried about me... She thought I was gonna commit suicide. So she called Joshua” Me: So then when did your rebellious streak begin? From Devotee to Devil. Did EODM allow your “Mr. Hyde” personality to come out? Jesse: It’s a strange one.
I was never being rebellious. I was… abandoned. That’s how I saw it. I came home and my [now] exwife was in bed with another woman. And I’m a devout, devout Christian. It was one of those typical reactions of… “I’ve done everything you ever wanted Lord. Why me?”, you know? I got despondent and I wanted to do the worst thing I could do. I’d never gotten high. I’d avoided all these things. I thought I was gonna be at least clear of mind to pick the right woman. So I was conflicted. I weighed about 240 lbs at the time… I was pushing it. I started to get big. But I liked it. I was comfortable. Then after, I lost like 100 lbs in like… 5 months. I found Speed. Immediately I was like “I want this.” My mother was really worried about me. She thought I was in the process of going out... she thought I was gonna commit suicide.
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So she got a hold of Josh, he was touring Australia at the time on the QOTSA “Songs for The Deaf” tour. 2003. And she told him… whatever… she told him about what was going on. Then there was a knock on my apartment door one night and there was Josh. He was holding an empty suitcase and he just pushed passed me. He was like “Where’s
He was assessing me, I could tell. But that’s his style, he doesn’t just come out and confront. I had my computer on and I had this program open called Cool Edit 2.0 my friend had put on there so he could mix stuff when ever he was at my house. I had more of a practical, academic interest in multi-tracking and making songs… I’d
and San Berdoo Sunburn at that time...) “It’s nothing. It’s just a joke.” He listened to it and then he turned back around and I could see his whole demeanor had changed. He goes, “Do you have any more of these??” “I have them all Dude. What you do is simple. You want me to show you how…?” “Yeah, why don’t you
So by the time I got to LA, I had this understanding… and we recorded the album in 3 days… and here I am. It’s like being a werewolf your whole life and not seeing your first full moon ‘til you’re 30. It was transformative. So I was never being rebellious. Which is why I’m still a conservative. Still Progun, etc. Still endemically
your cabinet?” “It’s in my room.” He’s like “Ok” and he starts pulling all these guns out of my gun cabinet and he put them in a bag. He asked where my bed gun was, and I gave it to him. Couple other hand guns, different places, I give those to him. He was like “This is all of them? You sure? Alright cool.” Then he takes them all out to his car, puts them in his trunk. Comes back and sits down and is like. “Alright… What’s going on dude? How you doing?”
wanted to show Josh how easy the shit he did was. Cause I’d always felt like he was wasting his life with bullshit… all the patting yourself on the back like you were some sorta badass for writing a cool song... was lame to me at that time. There was pretty much nothing spectacular or mystifying about it. So Josh turns around and sees the computer and recognizes the waves files [as recorded songs] and was like “Whoa, what’s this??” (I’d written Whorehoppin’, I Only Want You,
show me how easy it is.” So I wrote that whole first record in like 4 more days. He didn’t have a car at the time, so he borrowed my mom’s car and he showed up at my house after he’d listened to it all, and told me to get in. Then he sat me in the car and was basically like “Ok. This is what you need to do when you’re in rock n roll...” and gave me this most unbelievable magical two hour crash course on what I needed to do [to make it in the music biz]. And it worked.
the way I am. But my attitude became like, “Well, this is The Devil’s world, so why would I serve anyone but The Devil?”
IMAGE: Jesse takes smoke break as EODM rehearses for upcoming tour. Photography by S.GRAY
Me: Are you still very religious now?
Jesse: I’m an ordained minister in the Catholic Faith, believe it or not. A real one. I get tax exempt status. I get to go the diocese every so often. I’m part of the marriage counselling program. I designed several after school programs at the YMCA. 29
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Me: What about your par- Desert Sessions is a geents? You say your dad nius thing. That’s Josh’s played bass, so music runs ability to get the finest artists in the world in one in the blood? room… and write his reJesse: Yeah you could cords for him. say that, but I think I do something different than Me: Let’s hear some the music. I’m like a general tracks you’ve been working on as I pack us a bowl in someone’s army. of some sweet Green CanMe: Who’s army? Josh’s dy. army? Jesse: Wanna roll a joint? Jesse: In a way, yeah. I’m such a joint guy… Here, first I’ll play you An army of good. Holy warriors against stupidity the original incarnation and lameness. Everything of Eagles of Death Metal we talked about when we from the Desert Sessions. Classic EODM riff and were kids, when we became punkers… but we’re beats come on, followed by a doing it without the punk guttural indecipherable vocal sung on top. I roll up a rock guilt [of success]. If I do something big, joint for us. We put real death metI want to get paid for it big. Cause you want me al style vocals on it with to have it instead of a bad our friend Cole singing. guy. Selling out is making He’s a death metal fanatic. the album you’re told to I was really into exposing make, not the album you the death metal vocal by want to make. And that’s taking it out of the death metal band context. it. Jesse switches to the next “It’s like being a track, a plucky clean guitar werewolf your whole riff intro into poly-rhythlife and not seeing mic drums. I light the joint. pass it on. your first full moon And These are real death met‘til you’re 30. It was al rhythms. recorded transformative.” the drums toWe a real death background and Me: I sometimes think of metal then used them. it as one’s art versus one’s Samples of Wizard of Oz craft. Your art comes from come on in the song. your heart, your craft is Hear that? We were althe skill you use to make ways putting very subverwhat someone wants you sively gay shit in our stuff. to make. That’s what “Queens of Stone Age” comes Jesse: I also think of art The from. It’s an old gay as magic. When you can’t world term from the 30s. really explain how it came It means an unhip fag. to be. Science is the way to Like “Oh no honey, he’s a approximate it until you Queen of the Stone Age… get to the artistry. Otherwise you’re just a profi- he’s a dinosaur. He’s still cient surgeon, as opposed Liberace”. to a gifted one. You’re the So when producer Chris surgeon who will save Goss would call in Kyuss lives, as opposed to acci- to record he’d say “Get in dentally knick the bowels here you fuckin’ queen’s of someone during basic of the stone age, you ain’t surgery and they die three that cool.” Josh was like “Fuck it, I’m gonna name days later. 30
my band in honor of that”. The reason he had Rob Halford [openly gay lead singer of metal band Judas Priest] on the first Queens album was because as an older queen himself, Rob wanted to christen the band and said to Josh, “you can’t have Queens of the Stone Age album and not have a real queen… of the Stone Age.” He’s truly my best friend. We’d written a lot of music during those days… I’ve always been writing stuff with Josh. The myth that I’d suddenly just discovered writing music is bull. I wrote a lot of the Desert Sessions stuff. But it’s ok, I don’t need the credit. Josh is the Master. He’s the king of the world here. When you run the show from behind the scenes, it’s the best. You’re more powerful without credit than you are with it. More of the song plays. Weird samples play through the song. We were also putting some real satanic shit in these early songs as well. And I wasn’t kidding. I was very satanic. Very seriously into Satan at the time.
everything. I just brought it in one day. That was the deal. Everyone brought stuff in, and Josh decided what was going to go on the record. When I was writing this… when I write stuff for my best friend… most of them are just to see if he’ll laugh. Also we have a beautiful communication in the studio. We have this… thing. I write songs knowing where he’ll go with it. When he takes the song somewhere, everything serves itself. There’s no ego. No jealousy. I was never in his shadow. I was in his shade, relaxing. When you’re fighting the bullies on the playground, you want someone’s big brother like him standing behind you. Sure, I road his coat tails. It was a lot easier than fuckin walking. In fact I didn’t have to ride his coat tails. He’s the one that took the ride and then lifted me up and placed me where I needed to be. I’ve never felt overly indebted cause he knows it’s good business, and he’s never felt overly owning of his thing, know what I mean?
Me: You switched from being an upstanding Christian to the opposite and become a full Satanist?
Me: Did you get writ-
Jesse: Well I believe it. All of it. So when it’s 100 percent opposite, I go for it. I even joined the San Francisco church of Satan… He then switches to a couple other tracks from the Desert Sessions and lands on a chill sexy groove song I know well: “I Wanna Make It Whitchu”.
ing credit for this song when they re-did it on the Queens album?
No. And that’s how it should be. How it has to be. Without him, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place. It’s his. He is a mad musical genius. It all has to be under one consolidated authority. Otherwise it has no meaning… in a practical sense. I’m on a lot of the reMe: This is one of my fa- cords uncredited. Queens, vorite tracks. Them Crooked Vultures, whichever. Just to help out Jesse: I wrote this one wherever I can. Our voice too. All of it. Song, lyrics, sound a lot alike, mine and
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inally, Jesse digs into 4 or 5 tracks of the rough mixes from the upcoming EDOM record. And I have to say, they are gut punch amazing. Full force Eagles of Death Metal doing what they do best, but somehow even better, bigger, badder-asser. Even their cover of “Save a Prayer” by Duran Duran remakes the song into a deep grooved smooth and sexy soirée. These are fuller sounding songs than the first couple of albums, and we’re listening to the rough mixes. Those first albums were more garage rock. These songs are a full production pop rock punch to the balls. As Jesse says “It’s rock n roll fundamentals. ABC Me: Would you say Josh came to you at that pivotal rock n roll. It’s ain’t rocket science, it’s supposed to put moment when you were in that deep depression and a spell on you.” helped channel that negative energy into something
Josh’s. I’ll sing parts when he needs them. The rule is make the song the best it can be. Check your ego at the door. It’s Josh’s thing, and I certainly don’t want to finger fuck anyone else’s thing. Cause I certainly don’t want anyone to have any expectations that they’re going to own anything of Eagles of Death Metal. Josh expects me to be the force behind the band. It’s always been intended. He’s the studio drummer and the producer of a thing. And that’s what makes it possible. But it’s my job to make it big. The biggest it can be. It positions the whole team for the next move.
“Desert Sessions is a genius thing. That’s Josh’s ability to get the finest artists in the world in one room… and write his records for him”
“Josh and I have a beautiful communication in the studio. We have this... thing. I write songs knowing where he’ll go with it.”
positive by creating EODM?
Whether you want it to or not, your booty will shake and your hands will clap as you get up and dance your Jesse: He was talking about Eagles of Death Metal face off. Eagles of Death Metal are coming to save your 4-5 years before he came back to my house and we soul with the good ole fashion sinning of rock n roll! made the first record. He always believed in EODM. He had shirts made… I almost feel like when he got the call from my mom he was like “Finally! It’s going to come to fruition”. He’d been waiting for this thing to happen that triggered whatever in me. And now, I love being a songwriter. That’s what I am. And I’ve written some cool songs. If Joshua con- The new Eagles of Death Metal album, tentatively called “Karatributes to one of my songs, I take it as a badge of hon- te Kiss”, comes out in September. EODM start their world tour or. Lennon and McCartney never quibbled over who’s in Europe beginning in June 2015. Go to www.eaglesofdeathname was first on the song. metal.com for more info and tour dates. IMAGE: Photography by S.GRAY
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By Esjay George
igh Art recently discovered Australian digihe simplicity and clean design is paired with an tal artist Ken Wong through his wonderfully equally elegant and meditative sound track crecreated iPad gaming app: Monument Valley. ated by musical artists Stafford Bawler, Obfusc Wong brings beautifully illustrated images to life with- and Grigori. in an emulated 4D digital world. he original Monument Valley game consists ong creates Fantasy and Gaming art. When of 10 levels. Upon completion, there is an add visiting Wong’s website you are given a seon for purchase called Forbidden city, that has lection his of various illustration styles “By an additional 7 levels. The game has no crazy bells Sunshine” highlights his children book artist style full and whistles as it needs none, no fighting, monsters or of light heartiness and adventures. “By Moonlight” crazy stressful challenges. What it does do is makes has a more of a romantic surrealism with a dash of the you look at the lines of perspective and find a way to macabre to it. Then, of course, you have his game art bend them to create a pathway through its hypnotiand projects. It’s within this game art section you will cally beautiful labyrinths. (You are even encouraged find the little gem Monument Valley, by Ustwo Games. to take screenshots with it’s built in button feature to capture surreal moments) onument Valley uses an impossibly angled labyrinth style path game design. It provokes ou’ll find that once you’ve completed all the levbi-lateral thought and enhance right brain acels, you’ll go back to the game again and again. tivity, while inducing a kind of hypnotic focus. This I find going back and replaying levels calms M.C. Escher-inspired game is a blending of twisted my mind. It’s almost more a meditative exercise than architecture, explorations of infinity, and teasing tes- game. I recommend sitting back comfortably, with sellations. All of which creates a stunning minimalist headphones on, taking a puff or two of some relaxing world in where a silent ghost-like princess must find O.G., and away you go following the silent princess Ida her way through various mazes, puzzles, obstacles, into a stunning world of sacred geometry. bratty crows, and a helpful building block buddy.
Image Credit: Monunment Valley App Icon and Image from game
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Image Credit: Monunment Valley Images from the game by Ustwo
ou can see Ken Wongâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s art at: http://www.kenart.net/index.htm.
Download the Monument Valley app via your iPhone or iPad. (No Droid app yet) The soundtrack is also available via: - Apple itunes https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/ monument-valley-original-soundtrack/id887804425 - Amazon http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ ASIN/B00KNNDK1K/ref=nosim/0sil8/
Monument Valley Fan Art There is also some stunningly beautiful Monument Valley fan art to be found on the inter-webs, as exibited below. Check more out at http://monumentfriends.tumblr.com
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DOUG WITH HIGH” By Dyson Bronti
t was a rainy night in Los Angeles… which is a rare thing, but it was early spring and it’s been known to happen. I was hurrying west down a wet Beverly Blvd dodging past precipitationally-challenged drivers on my way to the Largo Theater in Hollywood to catch an all star night of comedians on cannabis for a live special of the “Getting Doug With High” show… if I can only make it in time. Tickets said “no late seating” and it was getting late. If you haven’t seen the ALN/YouTube “Getting Doug With High” series, it’s a simple premise: comedian Doug Benson invites various comedic friends and celebrities to come on his show, smoke as much weed as possible, and hang out and chat for 45mins and let what happens happen. For some of the celebrities, such as David Cross and Jack Black, the task was a bit daunting as neither are big potheads. But they were both good sports during their respective shows and did their best not to freak out on camera. For other more seasoned celebrity pot pros like Andy Richter and Aubrey Plaza getting super high and being
on camera seemed a bit more the norm, though probably not at the same time. This challenge for someone you recognize from TV and films to try and hang on to some semblance of sensibility while getting increasingly high is what makes the series so entertaining. The fact that most of the guests are comedians of one kind or another of course adds to the high-larity. On another level, it gives a way for regular folk to become more comfortable with what being high actually looks like on familiar friendly faces. Plus, it also allows celebrities a fun way to “come out of the grow closet” as it were. A safe friendly open environment not filled with stoner clichés like reggae, Snoop Dogg, or Grateful Dead posters (even if the show’s opening credits are a bit “spaced out”). The only “stoner” things around are the products from sponsors of the show: the bongs, pipes, and vape pens on the coffee table, all eluded to at one point or another by Doug (by sponsorship obligations). But these paraphernaliatic devices also offer the guests a variety of ways with which to get high. Plus there are a number of strains to choose from, depending on each guests personal preference.
turned right on La Cienega and pulled up to the Largo at The Coronet. Found a yellow “Loading Zone Only” parking space pretty close to the theater.
“A couple of show producers come from backstage with huge 4 foot volcano-bags filled with weed vapor and hand one to Doug...” My friend and I took a quick puff from his one hitter and we climbed out of the car and into the drizzle. As we approached the theater, we realized our hasty sneak-a-smoke
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sesh was unnecessary as a myriad of hipster stoners -of varied levels of hip and stoned- puffed vaporizers openly and barely hid smoking joints and pipes under drier door ways. We continued into the cozy Coronet courtyard that leads to the theater. After a momentary snafu with will-call and tickets, we finally get in only to find out -like a stoner-cliché-, the show was running late. It’s pissing rain so we duck into the little bar on the side of the courtyard and have a drink just before heading in. After a shot and some conversation, the lights flash and
we finish our pints and head into the theater. The Coronet is one of those old classic 1950s Hollywood theaters that has somehow stood the test of time. It’s small and cozy. Feels more like a classy old cabaret theater than a fancy old movie theater. We find some seats in the middle and settle down for the next hour and a half of fun times. The tickets, when I bought them, had only said “Getting High With Doug: Live at The Largo, with Special Guests.” Having seen a number of the online shows, I had an idea of who might be a couple of the guests. But I
wasn’t prepared for how special the special guests were going to be. The theater staff closed the outside doors. The house lights went down. The stage lights went up. Doug Benson ambled out onto stage to raucous applause, crossed five stools for five guests, sat down on his own high chair next to the permanent Largo stage piano, and instantly took a deep pull from a vape pen before turning to the audience. “Hey everybody!” He said jovially with a big Cheshire Cat grin as he exhaled a big puff of vapor. We all chuckled with the giddiness of seeing some-
IMAGE from: Getting Dough with High Website
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thing previously totally illegal that is now not only legal, but also accepted as cool, casual, even fashionably hip these days. After a bit of warming up telling us how particularly high he is at the start of this episode (apparently more than usual, which is saying a lot) he then went into the biz of telling us all about the show sponsors, etc.… all with self awareness of the necessary absurdity and intrinsic comedy of it all.
“We look like a bunch of kids trying to put a Christmas pageant together” -Rory Scovel Suddenly he cut himself off and pulled out his vibrating phone which told him it was 19 minutes past the hour. They always start smoking with the guests on the regular show at 4:20pm (it was actually 9:19pm, but as the saying goes at twenty past the hour “it’s 4:20 somewhere in the world”). So he cut to the opening credits for the online viewers – which we in the audience couldn’t see- and after the opening music Doug began introducing his special guests. “And now let me bring out our “Getting Doug With High” All-stars… Rory Scovel, Todd Glass, Eric André, Brian Posehn, and Sarah Silverman!” We all went wild with applause from both the high
quality of the comedians, and the common level of high we all were on. Each guest walked out on stage one after the other. They did a little shuffle around as each one acknowledged the audiences cheers, and then tried to figure out which stool they were supposed to sit on. Eric André ended up sitting closest to Doug at first. Just as they were about to get into a little one on one banter, an audience member yells out that it’s “20 past the hour” and they should be smoking. As if on cue, a couple of show producers come from backstage with huge 4 foot volcano-bags filled with weed vapor and hand one to Doug on one side of the stage and Sarah Silverman on the other side. Sarah takes her hit like a pro. Doug hits it and passes it to Eric André, who then prefaces his hit with “There’s no one on earth who hates weed here more than I do, so you’re going to see all my insecurities bubble to the surface and you’ll all become my therapist…” Which was fair of him to warn us, because he definitely ended up being the most out of his head member of the panel. But he was playfully so, and a good sport about the super baked personal experiment he went through in front of us onstage. Not easy for the pot pros, much less a rookie. The other guys in the middle closer to Eric An-
dré, Rory Scovel and Todd Glass, began to chime in little quips as they puff deeply on the passedaround vape bags. Sarah Silverman at the other end then seemed to say something, but it was kind of hard to hear, and it was clear that the closer the comedians were to Doug, the more attention they’d get. (They ended up switching around seats throughout the show for just this reason). After a few individual intros of each comedian (except Rory Scovel’s was waylaid by Todd Glass’ baked imperative to hear Doug do his Nancy Grace impression), and a few more passings and emptying of the vape bags, these six freshly high folk were off the leash and on the run like a group of cats after pouncing a fresh bag of catnip... both verbally and physically. Eric André had already wandered over to the Largo piano and began plink-plunking on it until Doug had to guide him back to his seat. “We look like a bunch of kids trying to put a Christmas pageant together” Rory offers through the audience’s laughter at the scene. “Like the teachers trusted them to do it all by themselves.” Too true, and it was only 10 minutes into an hour and a half smoke session show. Between Eric André’s need to lay on the floor for much of the show (bad back he said) and share
first timer stoner insights and trip-outs once in awhile; to Todd Glass’ compulsive need to talk at every given opportunity with the self conscious knowledge of doing it, but still not being able to control it; to Brian Posehn becoming the quiet storm with occasional flashes of brilliance, seeming like he was annoyed from having been pulled out of his cozy house on a rainy night to get baked in front of a bunch of strangers staring at him; to Sarah Silverman patiently waiting for her brief moments to shine between the louder voices of her male counter parts, it was a well balanced cast of characters. Rory Scovel seemed the most “with it” and natural with the given extra-curricular circumstances... besides of course the ringmaster of this stoney circus, Doug Benson himself.
“Sarah Silverman was like the cute neighborhood chick who was cool enough to hang with the stoner boys” Maybe it was my own high from my vape pen, but they all seemed to take on archetypal stoner roles of people I’d get baked with. Not the clichés, but the kinds of actual stoners you hung around as teens. Doug was the guy with the house and the really good weed and could smoke anyone under the
IMAGES: Screenshots from VPN’s Doug Benson YouTube video of the show.
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table. Todd was the super chatty friend when high, who you wish would shut the fuck up once in a while, the guy who everybody picked on with love. Eric was the rookie smoker who got too high and did all the typical trippy stoney amateur stuff. Rory was the guy who just wanted to have a good time. Brian would have rather been home smoking while playing video games and listening to metal but his parents made him get out of the house. And Sarah was the cute neighborhood chick who was cool enough to hang with the stoner boys One might have thought at such an event everyone would be lighting up in the aisles and passing joints around.
The whole audience blazed to the gills. But in fact, the theater strictly didn’t allow any smoking inside. (Cigarettes are banned, so it’s only fair joints would be too.) Even vaping was discouraged. When I tried to take a pull on my G-Pen, an usher, warned by its light, came down and flashed me to stop immediately. The people on stage were higher than the people in the audience, as they were passing around the constantly refilled bags back and forth amongst themselves throughout the show. So when it was first commercial break time 45 minutes in, most people ran out to the street into the rain to spark up while a few of us braved covert vaping with our pens in the courtyard. After 5 minutes the lights flashed and we all ambled
back in to find the show already in progress. The rest of the show went much like the first part, with increasingly more “I think I’m too high” from each of the guests at one point or another, with the exception of pros Rory and Doug. There was a running joke that started from a heckler wanting them to “pass that shit” that turned into Todd Glass calling him a Narc because only a Narc would want to see what they were smoking. Then everyone ended up turning on Todd and calling him the Narc and picking on him about it for the rest of the show. One highlight was when Sarah got everyone on stage to make a people pyramid, though at first a little awkwardly as no-
one knew where to go or which part of the pyramid to be. But eventually they got it together...ish. Todd Glass was having none of it and walked to the rear of the stage to avoid the possible calamity. He was too baked and off balance, he said. The others committed to the moment and Sarah got her people pyramid with thunderous applause. The show turned a bit dark and off key at the end when it was time to do “It’s Gabe Time!”. One of the shows production assistants who’s also an amateur magician comes out at the end of every show and does a magic trick for the excessively high guests. Sarah Silverman
(continues on page 74)
A Silver Lining From 9/11 to Baltimore By ALEX SHERMAN
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f you missed Judith Miller’s recent appearance on The Daily Show (Episode: 20098 - April 29, 2015), it’s worth a watch. Few people better epitomize the maelstrom of institutional failures -- political, intelligence, journalistic, etc. -- that ushered in the era of the Iraq War. Her reports on Saddam Hussein’s presumed possession of Weapons of Mass Destruction turned out to be a matrix of collective transference, channelling our national disturbance after 9/11 into a brief but intense duck-and-cover nightmare. Her reporting brought to the A1 of the Gray Lady the paranoid argument that the smoking gun of WMD’s might turn out to be a mushroom cloud. She screwed up, we know now; and her errors and the errors of the so-called experts she relied upon became something of an index of the spiralling death wish beneath the braggadocio of the Bush Administration.
iller is now a “Fox News personality,” the epithet conferred upon her by the Fox News website. She’s written a book chronicling her miscalculations and appeared on The Daily Show this week to defend her findings to Jon Stewart. In the interview, Stewart spends at least 20 minutes prosecuting the argument that she was, at best, recklessly complicit with the Bush Administration’s effort (he calls it a “conspiracy”) to sell the war to the American people, and we get the privilege of watching Ms. Miller squirm out of his capture, from one rhetorical escape hatch after another.
tewart’s uncommonly raw contempt notwithstanding, the in-
terview produces nothing of real value: no catharsis, no accountability, and no laughs. It is a deeply dissatisfying segment of television – I am unable to let go of the wish that the passage of time will yield some sort of golden symmetry, that the wrongs will be righted, that the whole thing will one day come to a settling end. Is it really too much to hope for a deathbed mea culpa from Dick Cheney, a confession that it was always about the treasure underground. Or how about a pox to fall on the house of Bush? It is unlikely at best. But the interview did make me wonder: what does one do with the residual anger – the real and righteous anger – that remains after we’ve let go of our yearning for justice?
ne possible answer appeared to me in an unlikely place when Marilyn Mosby, the 35-yearold Maryland state prosecutor for Baltimore, recently filed criminal charges against six police officers for the death of Freddie Gray, a young man of 25 years who was arrested on dubious charges and then killed after being tied up in manacles and left to flop around the payload of a careening paddywagon.
relay of strange deaths has been running around America, through Sanford and Ferguson and Staten Island and many other cities along the way. Anger has followed these disconcertingly predictable slayings of young dark skinned men in the course of so-called law enforcement interventions and has coalesced into a popular movement to rain justice on the most stiff-necked of American institutions: the police. With the death of Freddie Gray, the ba-
ton was passed to Baltimore and opened an Olympiad of civil unrest.
etails about the death of Freddie Gray were scarce in the days immediately after he died. We know more now that the coroner released his findings. But without facts my mind was left to fill the gaps with its own projective fictions. Did the names of the dead – Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Ezell Ford, and countless others whose names have not been amplified by the mainstream press – flash through Freddie’s mind before he departed? Did his essence flee the unspeakable horror and pray for peace to his mother, or visit the newsroom to see that the storyteller bend the arc of his story towards justice?
was arrested once as a young man, but I can’t imagine what Freddie Gray’s last ride was like. I know only the pinch of shackles cranked too tightly around my wrists and the embarrassment of a collect call from a cellblock payphone to leave a midnight request for the next day off from work as a scrivener in a midtown law firm. That one time I was arrested happened nearly a half a lifetime ago for me, in the summer of 2001, for the actual offense of smoking a joint in a public park in Greenwich Village. For me, then a firsttime offender of a non-violent crime, there was no trial and no conviction. Under New York law, I obtained a judicial disposition known as an adjournment in contemplation of dismissal, an A.C.D. So long as I stayed out of trouble for one year, my case would be dismissed and my night in jail
Images sourced opposite page from 123RF
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would be just a story my friends and I could laugh about, the night I came down from my high in the Tombs on Center Street, the final scene of expiration for Melville’s Bartleby.
y race and my background shouldn’t matter to this story. Yet I feel compelled to bring up the fact that I am what I have learned to call a white male from an affluent suburban upbringing, not because it’s a useful device for drawing out the salient statistical differences between the way whites and blacks are treated by our country’s criminal justice systems. I bring it up because I know that I have never had to live under the immoral delusion that it was only a matter of time before I took my first ride in the back of a police van. Obviously I cannot speak for Freddie Gray or
for anyone else. I am aware that my musings on Freddie Gray’s last thoughts are problematic and offensive for some. But I do feel that on some level my experience as a white male in the criminal justice system implies one of the pillars of the #blacklivesmatter movement: that a black man should not expect his encounters with the police to differ from mine.
am humbled by Ms. Mosby’s audacity. She is young and her choices to bring charges, their timing and their types, come with real risks to the family of Freddie Gray, for her professional future, and for the city of Baltimore. But in vowing to deliver justice on behalf of Freddie Gray for the protestors in the streets, Ms. Mosby’s openness to hear those voices, our voices, showed me that she is not going to allow the inherent risks of her
idealism to hold her back. I think Ms. Mosby’s faith in the judicial system has been tested by these deaths, and it’s a faith that she, and all of us, really require.
e may never be able to look back on the era of the Iraq War without feeling that we lost a lot. It will remain an era in which the people’s voices -- voices of reason and doubt and caution -- were never heard; an era of widespread institutionalized shoulder-shrugging. But in Marilyn Mosby’s actions, I see the promise of a new generation who came of age in that era but are not willing to be shaped by that era. In Ms. Mosby, I see a line from 9/11 to Baltimore. It may be a jagged and interrupted line, but it’s still a line, and it is made of silver.
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TAHOE O.G. KUSH A Snowy Strain Review by Sean O’Kief
magine a crisp cool sunny winter’s day. It’s just dumped snowed the day before. The stunning Sierra Nevada mountains surrounding Lake Tahoe are covered in clean fresh powder that you’ve been skiing, snowboarding, sledding, playing in all day. Now it’s time to head back your little ski-cabin overlooking the big beautiful blue green lake below.
ou walk in the door, kick off your winter boots, light a log fire in the stone fireplace, sit down on the super soft bear-skin couch, and light up a fresh, earthy-pine tasting bowl of Tahoe O.G. You take a nice long hit, lean back and exhale the day’s aches and pains away.
n indica-dominant hybrid, Tahoe O.G. is the perfect strain to relax after an active day, Wind down the mind, iron out and ease the bumps and bruises you didn’t even knew you had. This has the phenotype of an O.G. Kush
ahoe is also great for insomnia with its lazy, heavy body sensations. But you might have some fun dreams with Tahoe’s added euphoric sativa-like lift. So when you need fun strain to relax you after a fun day, reach for Tahoe O.G. and let the day snowdrift away.
(Go to leafly.com to find this strain nearest you. State laws apply)
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EARTHQUAKE E A RT H QUAKE
eno recalled that late long night when they drove to LA from the Bay Area and he rode in the backseat with Mark. Rob was at the wheel; Dave smoked a couple of joints and looked out the passenger window into the dark for hours as the four of them traveled south on Interstate 5 from San Francisco. There was nothing to see. Too dark. Nothing happened. Laughs, stories, jokes, and the desolation of middle California, the occasional smell of cattle or oil as big rigs rocked by at speed. Rob wore his grey beret, a red star pinned left of center and he stared through the windshield as far as the headlights, stoned and careful, kept his hands at 10 and 2; Zeno never questioned Rob’s ability to safely steer the length of the state. Plenty of talk but, later, Zeno could not remember what they talked about. Beer, weed, and nine hours staggered by. Sunrise in southern Cal. The Hollywood sign glimpsed in the hills above the house as the Corvair pulled into the driveway and they woke the residents. Three bedrooms, one small bath, and a living room for sleeping bags and late night conversations with Rob’s army buddies. Vietnam, but the memory feels younger than that. The army buddies welcomed them boisterously. Two guys, the tenants, roommates, had served with Rob in the National Guard and both were beach-tanned and friendly. There was a lot of smoke in the room and a joint smoldered in a cut glass ashtray. Zeno smoked, drank beer and listened to music. Ten Years After, Santana,
A short Story by
Joe De Patta
Blind Faith. That’s what they did, no matter where they were; home, San Francisco, Tahoe, Oakland, Mendocino. Rock and dope, beer and loose talk. Zeno had forgotten the names of Rob’s two generous friends. He probably forgot them within five minutes of being introduced, handshakes and wisecracks. The Army buddies had girlfriends who lived with them. They shared bedrooms and were comfortable with the newcomers. Zeno was introduced to the women, watched and wondered how relaxed everyone appeared as they wandered through the living room in bathrobes and carried bowls of breakfast cereal, smoked cigarettes, balanced cups of coffee. Zeno looked for a place to put his sleeping bag so he would not be in the way, and so that he had a bit of room to himself, against a wall, in an alcove. He was uncomfortable and self-conscious as the only man in the room who had not served in the armed forces. Not that the other guys had seen combat. They were all reservists, unscarred and home in six months from Dixie shitholes and military uniformity and while they had suffered the humiliation and insult of boot camp. None had been deployed to a war zone. When harsh stories about the shared experiences of cruel training, painful drills, and copious drinking developed Zeno dropped out; he tried to listen, but had nothing to offer and was removed from the conversations. He had found his own way to avoid the Army and he had a girlfriend, a car, a job, was well liked, was
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included and consulted, but he wondered if the tion, wildly enticing at the time but now he couldn’t others, his friends, thought he was a coward or imthink of what it was. mature because he had not experienced the right of She was plump, cute, and smelled of soap and passage, the light-hearted misery that they all now cigarettes and another spice that he couldn’t identirecounted. There were other reasons that Zeno felt fy. She led him downstairs to the basement so they like shit in those years, too. Women, jobs, music, could be alone. The basement was unfinished with cars. Every event or person or occurrence he faced a dirt floor and stacks of stored objects unrecognizwithout injury or discomfort was a lucky break. able in the gloom and the only light were the rays The big surprise of the weekend was when he of orange streetlight filtering through the one dusty slept with the girlfriend of Rob’s Army Buddy. He window. Zeno couldn’t think of anyplace to lay didn’t know which one, which buddy. The incident down with her but he spotted a big mattress that was tawdry and ended uncomfortably. She, unreleaned against the wall. He tipped it forward and membered, initiated the event when she brazenly, it fell with a soft thud, trailing a cloud of dust that seductively, came onto exploded and choked him for some unfathomthem both. She sneezed, able reason. he coughed, she slipped Zeno had a place in out of the nightgown the large spare room and he tossed his jeans where there were twin onto the floor and lay beds pushed against down. opposite walls. It was a It wasn’t until he reprize placement. There turned home to San was no one nearby and Francisco that Zeno Mark slept soundly, wondered how many stoned, far away. They insects and spiders they Image credits: Southern California Earthquake Data Center had stayed awake since had dislodged. Were driving all night and drinking beer all day. The soldiers smoked their LA weed, compared it to Dave’s San Francisco dope, and reminisced while Zeno listened to their decent record collection of psychedelic and bluesy guitar bands. He got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and she was suddenly there, in a very short nightgown, came out of the darkness as if she’d been waiting for him. Perhaps he was her type. He had never thought of that. Type. She found Zeno attractive and wanted to fuck him. A month later, reflecting again on the episode, Zeno considered the possibility that she was waiting for anyone: Rob, Mark, Dave. She whispered an invita-
bugs crawling on them while they made love, while they senselessly engaged in their grubby decadence on a filthy mattress on the dirt floor in the dark basement in a Hollywood neighborhood near the end of the Vietnam War? He came fast, disgusted by the environment, but excited by her. It wasn’t quite enough and he wanted to take advantage of his good luck and soon, after the first time, he began touching her, caressing her. He was revived and erect, wanted more, but she asked him if it would be OK if “we didn’t do it again?” Zeno wanted her to think he was a nice guy, wasn’t the kind of man who would force himself on anyone, wasn’t a crazy military bastard fresh 53
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out of boot camp and taking his pleasure because he deserved it for risking his only life and she might give him another chance later and he still felt that he didn’t deserve what had just happened so he said, “Sure.” He felt shitty and had no idea how any of it had happened. The sex was uncomfortable and as dirty as the basement. He knew he would do no better if he were given a second chance. They dressed
and climbed up the back stairs coated in dust and webs and sex. She went into the bathroom and he returned to bed. The following day they all went to Disneyland; Methedrine and marijuana, and that night they had been at a party where they drank, laughed, danced and had fun with their new friends and some nice strangers. They arrived back at the bungalow around 4 a.m. and were all fall-
ing asleep when Zeno awoke to the bass thump of a huge truck rolling by on the street outside his window, down-shifting to climb a short, steep hill. Half asleep, high, he looked through the blinds but couldn’t see anything. He lay back and listened until it stopped and went to sleep thinking about the previous night and he tried to remember her name. In the morning the others were excited and talked about the earthquake.
He really thought it was a truck. How did everyone else know it was an earthquake when he was convinced it was a loud truck rumbling by? Zeno had never considered that it could have been an earthquake. He thought about that on the long ride home and never remembered her name.
Joe De Patta is writer, musician, and painter living in Taos, New Mexico.
The Good Taste of Medicine
Potency & Flavor Without The Calories!
The Auntie Dolores Mission: a promise to provide patients with a suitable alternative or form of adjunct therapy to their current medical treatment. Consistent. EďŹ&#x20AC;ective. Delicious. Our award-winning products are sure to satisfy, no matter then ailment, tolerance level or nutritional need!
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hef Tiff’s Recipes
By Chef Tiffany Friedman
Personal Chef Tiffany Friedman shares with us a few of her favorite, fresh and fun Spring recipes to try for anyone with a love of food and cooking.
BABY BACK RIBS
• 3 racks organic pork baby back ribs • 1 cup brown sugar • 1 tablespoon salt • 1/2 table spoon black pepper • 1 cup barbecue sauce • 1 package or 2 cups of Padrón peppers • 1 tablespoon olive oil Serves 6 ppl.
Mix brown sugar with spices and set aside. Pre-heat oven to 275 degrees. Use a half sheet pan, put the racks of rib on the pan. Ribs can be left whole in racks and shingled. Rub the brown sugar mixture liberally over each rack. Then using heavy duty tin foil, cover the pan so that no heat escapes. Set in oven for 3 hours and can be up to 5 hours.
IMAGES: Provided by Chef Tiffany Friedman
Directions Remove foil carefully and cut ribs into a manageable length to grill them. If you try to grill the rack without making it smaller, some of the ribs will fall apart and the meat will literally fall off the bones! Brush with your favorite barbecue sauce, I like homemade or Sweet Baby Ray’s brand. Grill over a very hot gas or charcoal grill for 2 to 3 minutes per side. Serve hot or just warm.
Padrón Peppers Get a sauté pan nice and hot then add the olive oil and Padrón peppers sauté on high heat. Toss in and browning for about a minute and a half or until they are tad charred. Season with salt and serve.
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YOGURT PANNA COTTA WITH FRESH FIGS AND HONEY
• 1 envelope unflavored gelatin (2- 1/4 teaspoons) • 2 tablespoon cold water • 1 cup heavy cream • 1/3 cup sugar • 1 vanilla bean, split with seeds scraped out • 1- 17.6 ounce tub of Greek yogurt such as FAGE Total Classic brand or 2 cups of your favorite Greek yogurt • 1 cup fresh figs (in season end of May in U.S.A.) • 1/4 cup local honey
Directions In a small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water and let it stand for around 5 minutes until softened.
Chef Tiffany Friedman
In a small saucepan, bring the cream, sugar and vanilla bean and seeds to a simmer. Off the heat, stir in the gelatin until melted. In a bowl, whisk the yogurt until smooth. Gradually whisk in the vanilla cream; remove the vanilla bean. Give mixture 5 minutes to cool. Pour the mixture into six 1/2-cup Mason jars and refrigerate until set, at least 3 hours. Slice the figs and spoon them on top of the panna cottas. Drizzle with some of the honey and serve.
Chef Tiffany is a lifelong student of the culinary arts. Her goal is to always continue to grow and direct her passion toward bringing people joy. She describes her culinary talent as,“a gift I hope to share with your taste-buds.”
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Frank Tales: A Mingus Among Us can * nois * seur ( kan’ us sur’ ), n. one competent to render critical judgment on the qualities and merits of Cannabis.
By Frank Lauria
hile recounting some tales from yesteryear I neglected to mention an incident that occurred circa fall ‘58. Young poet Ralph Pine was attending Rutgers and I was crashing at his apartment in New Brunswick N.J.. Our pal was a brilliant and fiery young lady named Barbara Long who was a prose writer with a few credits under her belt.
he three of us had been the ones to discover the 7 Arts Coffee Shop and were faithful attendees at the weekly readings. As mentioned in past pieces, the customers at the Hell’s Kitchen venue were sparse but, lo and behold, one weekend we were reviewed by Show Business, the newspaper. Your reporter received a front page fourstar write-up but friend Ralph did not fare so well. Since I was used to getting panned from the age of six I wasn’t really sensitive
to Ralph’s pain and was (our regular command surprised when he later center) we would actualdeclined to read any more. ly crash at his apartment. What could be cooler? owever... we were harles Mingus was going to start our cordial and showed own Literary Magazine! In those days self-pub- real affection for friend lished “little magazines” Barbara Long. He lived in were prevalent. Most a typical midtown New were one-shots, others York walk-up apartment like LeRoi Jones’ “Yugen” that entered through the had significant influence kitchen. Charles had a in underground circles. lovely blond girlfriend who Our friend Barbara Long looked like Lana Turner also had influence in lit- and was far less cordial to erary/ jazz circles which these three young interin those days were ar- lopers-especially Barbara. tistically intertwined. She declined to go along as we visited the 7 Arts then arbara called Charles went to a bar to discuss Mingus, the great bass our big project. Charles player/composer who was seemed very interested. He then regularly gigging at showed us his poem which a seminal jazz club called was titled “Bosoms”. The Five Spot. And yes... The poem went in part: Charles had an original poem for the launch- Bosoms / big ones, small ing of our yet unnamed ones / I feel them / as I see them... Zine. So the three of us set out for New York one We of course, were Friday. We would visit Charles Mingus, get the thrilled to have any offerpoem and after our Friday ing from the great Charles night visit to the 7 Arts Mingus. Remember this
was still pre-rock when Jazz artists ruled. We all went back to the pad to record Mingus reading the poem on a home tape machine (mine) about the size of an airline suitcase.
ut when we entered the apartment we were greeted by a bizarre sight. Charles’ lady had written “I Want To Die” over and over on the white kitchen walls, the refrigerator, and the stove. Somewhat in shock and awe Barbara and I made ourselves comfortable on the floor of a small den, while Charlie tried to calm his lady down. Shortly after we retired there was a knock on the door. It was Mingus. After a muffled conversation Barbara came back with the news. Charlie wanted to watch us make it. I declined.
week later we went back to pick up the tape machine I had left with Mingus to record his poem for posterity.
Image credits: Left page Columbia/ Legacy. This page image of Frank Lauria from Cannoisseur.blogspot.com
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e had called ahead but when we arrived, about ten that night, the doorbell did not respond. From the sidewalk we could see figures at the window of the second-floor apartment. What to do? We decided to go up the fire escape. Ralph and I climbed to the second floor. An elegant black dude was standing at the window. I tapped. He opened the window.
t was Max Roach, the renowned drummer, then married to Abbe Lincoln. There were others there as well. A hip jazz party was in progress. I explained we were there to pick up the tape recorder. Max shut the window and went into the other room. He returned with the tape recorder which he passed through the window. We descended back to the sidewalk, aware we had not been invited inside to join the party.
aybe I should have let Charlie watch.
Frank Lauria is a Novelist, Poet, Musician, Cannoisieur living in Marin County, California.
ÂŠ 2013 Daniel Freedman
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M Movies of a Classic Kind
Looking to expand your cinematic enjoyment beyond sitcoms and superhero movies? Then check out one, if not all three, of these deeper cuts. While none of these fine films require herbal enlightenment, it might help in soaking in the finer points and seeing what lies beneath the surface
by Daniel Freedman
Follow Daniel at @_danielfreedman on Twitter and notdanielfreedman on Instagram. For more information, visit www.bandit-town.com
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ALTERED STATES (1980) Written by Sidney Aaron (Paddy Chayefsky) Directed by Ken Russell “Memory is energy! It doesn’t disappear - it’s still in there. There’s a physiological pathway to our earlier consciousnesse’s. There has to be; and I’m telling you it’s in the goddamned limbic system.”
nspired by John C. Lilly’s sensory deprivation studies inside isolation tanks under the influence of psychoactive drugs, ALTERED STATES tells the story of Edward Jessup (William Hurt in his first feature), a professor of abnormal psychology who begins experimenting with sensory deprivation after becoming obsessed with different states of consciousness; what he believes to be a gateway to the origin of life in the universe. Jessup travels to Mexico to take part in a tribal ritual where the participants experience shared visions. From there he nose dives into the journey inward. Armed with a tincture from the native tribe, Jessup continues his research back home, delving deeper and deeper into the psychic journey back in time. And that’s when things start to get weird… In an effort to preserve the experience of these movies for you, I won’t divulge too much of their plots. They should really be watched as purely as possible. ALTERED STATES is a mind fuck of a good time. It’s packed with interesting pseudo science as well as maybe the most accurate depiction of an Ayahuasca ceremony and it’s impending hallucinogenic journey on film to date. More than anything, the film, like many of Ken Russell’s movies, is full of hyper kinetic stylized sequences presenting the inner workings of the brain’s attempt to understand incomprehensible themes and concepts. With style and substance, the film explores a myriad of heady concepts such as cosmic energy, time, space, and ultimately, reflexive humanity. Anyone looking for a metaphysical sci-fi horror film about hallucinogenic drug use, sensory deprivation and mutant monkey-men on their way back to the primordial ooze should definitely sit down and watch this movie. There isn’t much else like it. It was one of Ken Russell’s larger budgets and he was given a shocking amount of free range, especially considering a major studio made it. The movie was even nominated for two Academy Awards (Sound and Score). The influence of ALTERED STATES can be heard on DJ Shadow’s Pre-emptive Strike record. Other people have sampled the same dialogue but I get the impression they were just sampling DJ Shadow and not the film itself.
A good pairing for ALTERED STATES would be top shelf sativa like Jack Herer, Dutch Treat or my personal favorite, Cinderella 99’.
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MEDIUM COOL (1969) Written by Haskell Wexler
kin t to 2014’s Nightcrawler and evocative of the unrest in Ferguson, Missouri following the murder of Mike Brown as well as the 99 percent movement’s failed attempt in New York, MEDIUM COOL is unique in that it blends fiction and reality seamlessly. Filmed in Chicago during the 1968 democratic national convention, the movie tells the story of a group of cameramen and journalists who question the ethical responsibility of their professions. How long do you record and watch human suffering before putting the camera down and getting involved?
“Jesus, I love to shoot film.”
Wexler, his cast and crew, headed to Chicago anticipating counter culture protests that the military had trained to quell (on camera) and let a narrative manifest itself while surveying the current state of American politics and the eventual civil unrest. The movie culminates in the real life riot that “can only be called a police riot” based on massive evidence that “some policemen lost control of themselves under exceedingly provocative circumstances.” MEDIUM COOL is as resonant today as it was then, if not more so. It shows us how far we’ve come while at the same time illustrating that we’ve been at a standstill culturally for almost fifty years. As always, it was one step forward, two steps back. Then a fall. Followed by a tumble. Culminating in a bloody nose, a fat lip and shattered ego. Just keep in mind almost everything you see on camera really happened. Once you realize it wasn’t staged for the film, you start to really understand and become aware that you, the viewer, are watching, when you could be out there taking action. The final shots of MEDIUM COOL make this painfully clear by turning the cameras on the viewers themselves. Never had a film struck a nerve with the country as MEDIUM COOL did for its time. The movie was originally given an “X” rating due to it’s political dialogue.
Pair MEDIUM COOL with nice hybrid, like Cheese or a Green Queen, for a laid back but still waking interest in the events at hand.
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PRINCE OF DARKNESS (1987) Written by Martin Quatermass (John Carpenter) Directed by John Carpenter “Say goodbye to classical reality, because our logic collapses on the subatomic level... into ghosts and shadows.””
hile not one of Carpenter’s best films by a long shot, PRINCE OF DARKNESS is unique in his oeuvre as one of the few times Carpenter took the obvious extra steps to ask the viewer questions about consciousness, reality and the origins of good and evil.
The film begins when a priest, played the ever-present Donald Pleasance, invites a group of brilliant math and science students to church to help him investigate a strange container of green ooze that he believes is the corporeal embodiment of Satan. The plot thickens when killer bug-infested hobos led by Alice Cooper trap them inside the church and one by one the ooze turns the students against each other. Again, not Carpenter’s finest plot or use of violence, but what he does with the story is what’s worth watching. He uses the tried and true concept of evil incarnate, Satan, to introduce science into the question of good versus evil. Matter and anti matter. God and anti-god. It’s here that PRINCE OF DARKNESS is elevated above contained horror and brought to a place of sincere thought. Add the beyond effective creepy dream that reoccurs throughout the film and you’ve got a solid 100 minutes of entertainment. If you want to really dive down the horror rabbit-hole, follow up PRINCE OF DARKNESS with under-rated and under-seen IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS to watch Carpenter go full HP Lovecraft. Just watch out for the tentacles in the dark…
Pair PRINCE OF DARKNESS with a nice hybrid like Cinex or even a Kush-ey indica strain for a mellow-yellow blood and guts good time..
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MY FIRST TIME. When is it too young... or just right?
By S. GRAY
Legal Disclaimer: The New Smoker does not condone the underage use of cannabis by anyone. The opinions is this article are solely those of the author. IMAGE: from S. Grayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Personal Archieves.
s 12 too young to start smoking weed? Now, at my older more tempered age, I tend to think so. But apparently at that age, I didn’t think so at all. Fact was it was right in line with all the ways I’d been quickly developing in those tween years. Physically, I’d gone from 5’6 to 5’11 in a summer. Mentally, I was already testing my independence and boundaries; pushing things to new limits I’d not even thought of a year before. Doing what others did and not what my parents told me. If the Teens are the rebellious years, then the Tweens are the seeds of it.
dventurous independence was rooting. I was pushing childhood limits like staying up after midnight; eating desert before dinner; reading thicker books with smaller print and no pictures; taking candy from kindly old suburban neighborhood strangers we called the “candy man”. I then moved on to kissing girls in truth or dare after-school adventures, listening to heavier and louder music, stealing candy from local 7-11, and being generally curious, explorative. It was only natural I progressed from trying my grandma’s Marlboro light 100’s in 4th grade and not knowing how to inhale, to finally puffing my first real hit of the Mythical Marijuana in the summer of ‘83.
ee, I grew up in Marin County in the 1970’s. If you haven’t heard the tales, that’s where all the infamous San Francisco “Summer of Love” hippies moved to raise their flower children, raise their consciousness, and raise their “good green” crops. Many of my friends’ parents grew weed in their backyards. At dinner parties there would be the smell of that different kind of cigarette around in the air,
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that much more pleasant slightly sweet burnt skunky aroma of 70’s style joints. That’s really the smell of growing up in Marin County, 70s joint smoke. I literally grew up with it floating in the air all around me. So in some real sense, weed, pot, grass, the kind bud, Sweet Mary Jane, is in every fiber of my being.
ut I had yet to sample its forbidden flower. This was the era of anti-drug propaganda popping up all over ‘80s TV: from ads showing sizzling eggs as our “brain on drugs”, to “I learned it from watching you Dad!”; from the mighty Nancy Reagan slogan of “Just Say No” campaign, to the infamous “D.A.R.E. to keep your keep off drugs” shirts (often ironically worn today.)
ut we were at the age that those were exactly the people you didn’t listen to. Adults. The Powers that be. In fact, if they just said “no”, we just said “Hell yes!” So when I got the opportunity to sample the sweet skunky smoke, I dove into the unknown waters of equally possible dangers and delights.
t was a bright warm sunny ideal summer’s day, or maybe my memory of that magical day warms it just so. I rode my bike randomly pieced together BMX bike over to my friend Damien’s house next to the golden bricked Cascade Gates at the very bottom of my hill. Demian, our other friend Manny, and I had planned a day to smoke some of his folk’s kind bud after our casual school recess discussion of who had and hadn’t gotten high yet found that I was in a minority of one. Damien had bragged that his parents had some of the best grass in town, so it was decided; the next time his folks were out of the house,
we’d meet up for an introductory smoking sesh.
ditched my bike in the dirt yard. Knocked on the screen door and cruised in the house. I said “hey” to Demian and Manny, already there, and plopped down on his folk’s classic cozy 70’s hippy shawl covered couch. I don’t quite remember how we got started. I do remember Manny and I chillin’ on the couch, sun streaming through the big wide wooden framed windows, while Damien pulled out a mayonnaise-sized jar full of what looked to me to be green golden nuggets of love. None of that seedy mexidirt weed I would sometimes come across throughout my future wandering weed wafting ways. This was the high-class Californian cannabis. The sticky icky. The green green grass of home.
amien pulled out a prime nugget, packed it into a carved wooden bowl, and passed it around. A couple of puff, puff, puffs and I pull a new sweet smoky taste into my primary pink lungs and… cough cough cough, gag, ak ak ak…. ooofffa… I feel it burn going in deep and coming out in huge plumes. Hot damn, it hurt my little lungs. But as I recovered from the initial shock, and cough attack, I caught my breath as up came a warmth throughout my whole body. I lingered in it a bit too long, and Manny had to prod me to pass the pipe. I was off on a rising cloud.
he rest of the day I remember as an adventure of rediscovery. We grabbed our bikes from the front yard and rode them out into the sun shiny day. We rode along the windy wooded Marin roads to our old elementary school, Deer Park, a mile or three away. It was 67
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closed, and a weekday, so we had it all to ourselves.
his was no ordinary grade school. This school nestled in the back of a forest river valley filled with Redwood trees and lizards, grassy glens and bushy dry upper golden hills… Christ, there was a tiny redwood forest in the middle of our school where we played hide-n-go seek or kootie-catchers through the trees. This was where I spent Kindergarten through 5th grade. To now return in this new mind-state, only a few normal years later, but mind-years apart, was life altering... if not just simply rad.
e swung on the swings. Ran through the redwoods. Jumped over fences. Looked in on closed classrooms we used to sit in and look out of. Climbed up that special spot where you could get up on the roof, but I was kind too baked for it and it was hot so we didn’t stay up for too long. One of the guys was smart enough to bring a basketball, I forget who, and we shot around some sweet sloppy giggly happy hoops for a few minutes… or a few hours.
remember everything from that day with warm open wonderment: the feelings of fondness for the freedom of youth, mixed with a new knowledge of a deeper aspect of the world that I’d never seen before. Life shifted that day. It became all the bigger and better. And I know I am better for it. I was set on a broader life path of creativity, introspection, curiosity, and ever expanding understandings. So is 12 too young to smoke weed? For me… apparently not.
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10. You have a stash of bud and pipe in your car in case of emergencies. 9. Going to a movie without being high is a foreign concept. 8. 4/20 is a legitimate holiday. 7. You know “Wake n Bake” isn’t about cooking. 6. You watch a movie for the 3rd time because you were so baked the 1st time, you forgot you’ve seen it twice before. 5. You think people are always looking at you because... They know man, they know. 4. You’ve lived the words to “Sweet Leaf.” 3. The smell of skunk reminds you of Home. 2. You know more words for cannabis than the eskimo’s do for snow. 1. Everything is better when you’re high. 70
Images sourced from 123RF
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IT’S GOOD TO GET Even now, with all of Article Footnotes: HIGH our new strain aware- [*]An Introduction to the (continued from ness, one is never quite Principles of Morals and page 12) sure how it’s gonna hit Legislation, 1789, Oxford:
isn’t equal to the strength of another kind. But the main problem is, because of the over 1000 known strains, it can be quite daunting to find which strain is just right for you. And sometimes one grower’s method and version can be very different from another’s of the exact same strain. At least now, with trial and error personal testing, and a consistent source like a dispensary, it’s somewhat possible. (E.g. I know how a good strain of Jack Herer will make me feel, and help me write when I need to focus.) Back in the days before we knew what strains were what, way back when we were lucky to be able to score any weed, much less have a choice of strains, or any knowledge of the difference (or for what people who don’t live in a legal marijuana state call the present). This made smoking weed a different adventure every time. You never quite knew how it was going to hit you. Heavy, speedy, mild, harsh, euphoric, panicky, or a combo of all of them… it was always a mystery until you smoked it. Maybe this is what separates passionate pot enthusiasts from other drug takers, the mystery and adventure of the unknown 74
us. Maybe we put a bit too much in the bowl, maybe it’s the bottom of the stash and it’s filled with more kief crystals and you get overly baked, too high. It’s this lack of ability to take the perfect hit and get the perfect high every time, that drives many of us to find knew ways to refine that process. From joints, to pipes, to bongs, to edibles… and now, for the moment, vaporizers have come the closest to delivering the perfect hit. But it’s still dependent on the strain and vaporizer that are used, and how much one ingests, that gauges how high one will get. Maybe someday, in the not so distant future, we will be able to dial our personal cannavape device to deliver the precise mood we’d like to achieve at that moment with no adverse effects. Custom adjusting the levels of THC and CBD’s and other compounds we’d like to indulge in, and then lay back on a sunny Sunday and put on some relaxing music and enjoy the perfect high. This way when someone asks “Why do you get high?” You can confidently answer, “Because it’s good for me.”
Clarendon Press. [**] Addiction: The View from Rat Park: Bruce K. Alexander, Professor Emeritus, Simon Fraser University
GETTING HIGH WITH.. GETTING DOUG WITH HIGH (continued from page 42) hates magic apparently and wanted nothing to do with it, so Gabe went to Todd and had him pick a card and write on it with a pen and put it back in the deck. For some reason Rory started getting upset saying this was “all bullshit” and called out Gabe as being the “fuckin’ narc!”. He then suddenly got up mid card trick and walked across the stage and smashed a beer bottle across Gabe’s head. Gabe crumbled to the floor knocked out. The bottle broke like a prop piece and we all knew it must be a planned out gag. But the performance of anger from Rory and then Todd yelling at him for knocking Gabe out, was maybe a bit intense for us super sensitive way high audience members as the bit received more nervous chuckles than any real laughter. They all brushed it off
and went back to their seats, while a paramedic came onstage to treat Gabe. Eric André smashed one of the other prop bottles on his head. Todd wondered aloud if maybe they took it too far. Then everybody got back to business and usual. They passed out a few more vape bags in which Doug at one point said “Wait there’s a card with writing on it in here. Was this your card Todd??” And so it was. Magic everybody! Finally, after Doug promoted everybody’s different gigs and the things they were doing, and tried to get out a few more plugs for the sponsors, they wrapped up the show by letting it sort of peter out, and thanked everyone for coming. Everyone applauded as the guests all stood up, and that was it. As we all filed out of the theater we passed by Gabe who was still knockout on the stage floor, abandoned by everyone, still fully committed to the bit. All in all it was a great night of cannabis, comedy, and camaraderie with a splash of confusion sprinkled about. We made our way out into the rain with giddy baked smiles on our faces.
Check out the full show online: http://youtu.be/KEuJZZPqZdw Subscribe to the show here: https://www.youtube.com/user/ DougBensonVPN
Rondo Brothers ...rare grooves... ...chill beats... ...good music...
Rondo Brothers Discography
Download Free Mix Tape rondobrothers.com/mixtape
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by WILLIE MANGAS
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o ends another edition of THE NEW SMOKER magazine: Our 1st anniversary edition! We can’t believe over a year has past already since issue No. 1. We we’ren’t sure if there
would be an issue 2 and now we’re already on issue 5! How time flies when you do the things you love.
s always, we hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed making it. We appreciate all the amazing, positive feed-
back from you, our loyal readers. And we would love to hear more! Did you read something you love, or something you disagree with, or something we missed? Tell us about it! Email us your “Letters to the Editor” and we just might print your letter. editorial@thenewsmoker. com
e would like to thank all of our wonderful, writers, design team, photographers, contributors, and our proud sponsors,
all without whom this magazine would not be possible.
tay tuned to your inter-webs for news of Issue No.6 of THE NEW SMOKER coming in Summer 2015.
If you would like to contact us about anything is this magazine please send all questions, comments, or letters to the editor to email@example.com. 77