My Acid Test

My friend Thumb, who also happens to be my attorney and long-time musical partner, sent me this pic of Bob Weir holding a poster, a repop and not an original I'm guessing, from the infamous "acid tests" that were put on by the Grateful Dead back in the 60s.

 They held massive parties where everyone was given LSD and danced the night away while the Dead played music accompanied by early light shows, using overhead projectors, slides and Super-8 projectors and such. 

 It reminded me of my own "acid test" that I performed at Red Rocks back in the 80s. About 15 of us flew out to Colorado to see three shows. Originally they were going to be nighttime shows but for some reason they switched to daytime shows. I remember that bummed me out a little because I like nighttime shows, but in the end I doubt it mattered. 

 I love the Dead and I really love their studio albums but I'm definitely not a "Deadhead" like the rest of my friends who went were. I always thought they were a bit sloppy live, but it was the live shows that made the band, along with all the people who followed them and the sense of community and all the peripheral stuff that accompanied the shows...and the drugs. 

 There were drugs of all kinds freely available at Dead shows, but aside from tons of weed and enough nitrous balloons to fill a circus, the drugs of choice were of course psychedelics- LSD and mushrooms, all of which you could easily get hold of for cheap and sometimes for free. 

 I knew that psychedelics was a big part of the experience, and I wanted to find out just how much...to me anyway, so I decided to have my own acid test. I decided that with the exception of weed I'd stay straight for the middle show. That way, if it turned out that tripping made as much of a difference as I thought it would, I could still trip balls for the third show, which for the record I did. 

 I'm glad I planned it like that because with all due respect seeing a Dead show without dosing wasn't the same thing at all. Don't get me wrong...I still enjoyed the show very much. I enjoy live music of any kind, from a grandma singing in church to Tibetan monks chanting to Joe Divot hamboning to my favorite band, but the show was flat compared to the other two shows where I was considerably altered. 

 How altered was I? I was seeing skeletons relaxing on the clouds and I experienced full-blown Synesthesia. I could "see" the music coming out of the speakers as colors. Different instruments and sounds had different colors and waveforms, like what we see as auras in Kirlian photography, and it seemed to make perfect sense. That was fun and extremely interesting. I believe it's like that all the time but ordinarily we can't see it.

 A guy came up to me selling Rhythm Devils t-shirts. The Rhythm Devils was a percussion-based project with the Dead's drummers Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart. The guy had printed the shirts himself and they were awesome.

 They had the name of the band and a bunch of skeletons dancing around and playing various percussion instruments. Right before my eyes the skeletons came to life and started dancing. It looked absolutely real. 

 I still remember like it was yesterday...the guy walked up to me and held up a shirt. I stared at it for several seconds with a huge grin on my face. The guy was grinning too as he watched me admiring his work. Finally he said, "They're dancing, aren't they?" "Yes they are" I replied. "I'll take one please." They were $5. Ah, the good old days. RIP the economy. 

 I reached for my wallet but he said, "Nah man. You need it. Enjoy the rest of the show." With that he tossed me the shirt and walked off. "Thanks man!" I managed to say. He nodded and flashed a peace sign. I didn't get to tell him that I played percussion too but maybe he got the vibe. 

 I knew better than to try and insist that he take my money, and I'd have gladly paid ten times that amount. That would've been an insult, and would've gone against the basic principles of the community ethic. I saw maybe a couple dozen shows and that was the coolest thing that happened at any of them.

 I wore that t-shirt until it was long past due for the rag bag. It had more holes than a sieve. It actually met a heroic end. I was wearing it one day as I was loading equipment into a club on Southside where I was playing that night.

 A girl came up to me in tears and obvious distress. She'd been trying to rescue a feral kitten for some time. That day she almost caught it but it got away and ran under a parked car. The traffic was heavy and it was a chaotic scene. I leaned under the car and tried to coax it out but it was no use. 

 I was determined not to let it get away, and my only option was to take off my beloved Rhythm Devils t-shirt and throw it onto the kitten like a net and drag it out. Bless its heart the kitten was going berserk but I managed to get it into her car, which I'm guessing she had to have detailed the next day. 

 The girl thought I was a hero, but the shirt played no small part. I hope she and her new kitten had a long, happy and healthy life together, after it settled down anyway. It certainly was a hard-won partnership. 

 I felt fantastic after being able to help an animal but not so much as I saw what was left of the shirt. The poor kitten had completely shredded it, and for good measure peed and shat on it too. 

 I sadly tossed it into a trash can. I've been a sentimental old fool since I was young, so I had a brief moment of silence and then said a few words over it and then saluted it. Well done, brave t-shirt! I wish I could've told the story to the guy I bought it from. He'd have loved it. That t-shirt was loved.

  Anyway what was immensely cooler about Dead shows than the music was the community of hard-core Deadheads...the ones who traveled from show to show and set up camp in the parking lot. Sure there were a few chicks with hairy armpits, which never really bothered me, and at times the smell of Patchouli and clove cigarettes could make you feel like you might pass out, but the sense of community was legit. 

 I've always thought that it could be a model for how a society should be run, except that I know that's impossible because of all the evil and greedy people who call the shots in this world. For the most part the Deadheads were the exact opposite...kind, caring and generous. They understood the concept of "As you do unto others, so shall others do unto you." That of course can work either way, and they chose the correct way. God bless 'em.

 They looked out for each other, and no one was allowed to go hungry or be in danger. They shared. One might give another a free ticket or whatever, and then that person would in turn give someone else a handful of buds or a sandwich or something. Karma doesn't always bounce back to the person who does something good for someone...it gets spread around, as it should be. It's not Woo-Woo. It's actually been studied, and of course it makes perfect sense.

 It was a beautiful thing to see. I realize that most "utopian" things are bullshit, but they did it right. It wasn't planned...it came together organically. They were some of the nicest people I've ever met. That's what I miss most about the Dead years. I'm making it sound like everything was perfect which of course wasn't the case but overall there wasn't too much trouble. 

 Of course there were cases where someone took too much whatever and flipped out, but when that happened they'd have plenty of people taking care of them. There were usually medical tents and such. I only saw one guy flip out, if you could call it that, and I'd rather not talk about that.

 People also got busted as you can imagine, but it was usually for really blatant things like selling whole sheets of acid right in front of a cop, or idiot frat boys who were just there to be cool and party, getting drunk and starting fights or whatever. Drugs were dealt openly for the most part. The cops knew they couldn't bust everybody, and they also knew that the people generally weren't troublemakers. I saw more than one cop joining the party. 

 Other than the middle show at Red Rocks there were maybe one or two other shows where I didn't trip. It was just part of the deal and a necessary thing I thought. I don't remember too many specific things about tripping at the shows, except that at one show in Atlanta I watched skeletons climbing around on the scaffolding above the stage. They'd climb around for a bit and then sit down and watch the show, tapping their feet. That was wild. 

 Mainly it was a thing where the music was enhanced. The Dead always had incredible sound systems and it was worth going for that alone. They had these gigantic custom built drums that when combined with the PA took the sound below the range of human hearing, so that you could feel them rather than hear them. 

 It was a sonic massage and it was amazing. It was majorly enhanced by psychedelics. It went through your whole body like you were a tuning fork and it felt like it was realigning your atoms. It was easily in the top-10 most intense sonic experiences in my life. 

 

 After Jerry died some of those people went on to follow Phish, Widespread and a couple other bands and the rest called it a day. Even though they've gone their separate ways, it truly warms my heart to know that they passed along at least some of that ethic to their children. It was an honor to be a small part of that and I'm glad I got to witness it.

 Well, that's my acid test story. The moral is, should you ever find a working time machine and decide to go back in time to see a Dead show, which I highly recommend, make sure to dose heavily. Peace.

The Numbers Game (666)

 Last night I had yet another chance to be the 666th like on some video and of course I took it. It's just a number, right? 

Things I'd Love to Hear God Say to Me

 This hypothetical scenario requires several ifs...if God is real and if there's an afterlife and if I make it to the good place, I'd love to hear God say "You cared about my people and my animals, and you were able to help some of them without asking anything in return. Well done faithful servant. Welcome to paradise. Don't forget Mr. B." I'd love that. We'll see.

Comment of the Day

I just listened to a song by the great Taj Mahal for about the millionth time. It's called Lovin' in My Baby's Eyes. It's a remarkable song if you want to check it out. On the phone platform anyway on YT, when a video plays, some of the comments rotate and appear below the vid.

 I saw the above comment and I was about to reply to it and say that I too say that Taj is the man, but then I noticed that it was my comment that I'd left five years ago. How about that. Got myself. For the record, Taj IS the man.

The Numbers Game (666)

Including playoff games, the Philadelphia Eagles, who are playing the Kansas City Chiefs in Super Bowl 59, have an overall record of 666 wins and 665 losses, which means that if KC wins, the Eagles' record will be 666-666. Usually I don't care who wins the Super Bowl, or even which teams are playing, but in this case I say Go Chiefs! 

The Paperwhite Paradox

I've always been interested in how we can perceive the same thing so differently from one another, and this is a corker. These flowers are called Paperwhites. My ex-girlfriend Paige loves flowers, and after Gerber Daisies these are her favorites. 

 Our apartment contained Paperwhites about half the time we were there. She loved not only the look but also the aroma, and therein lay the dilemma. She thought they smelled sweet and fragrant, which never ceased to flip me out.

 To me they smelled exactly like these brown millipedes, which curl up when disturbed, and if accidentally stepped on stink to high-ass heaven. If I were blindfolded and you held up a freshly-squashed millipede and a pot of Paperwhites, I couldn't tell the difference. It's an aroma that gets into your throat and your lungs and maybe even into your very soul. It's rank.

 It's wild that two people could perceive something so vastly differently. At first I thought she was pulling my leg and just putting up with the stench because she loved the way they looked so much, but she convinced me that she really did love the smell. It was perplexing. 

 Since she loved them so much I put aside my revulsion and got them for her often. I'd put them in the back seat, and even in Winter I'd have to roll the windows down so I wouldn't throw up and have a wreck or make a cop think I was drunk driving or whatever. I'd have put them in the trunk but I didn't want to traumatize them, and that's a real thing btw.

 I'd always bug her by asking her to describe the aroma, because it was just so hard to believe. She'd just say they smelled sweet and flowery. We'd be sniffing the same flowers and she'd be smiling but I'd be frowning. Sometimes those millipedes will get inside, and many mornings I'd instinctively look down to see if I'd stepped on one but it was those damned flowers.

 There are examples of weird sensory quirks like certain tribes being unable to see the color blue and things like that, but the smell of sweet flowers and a squashed millipede are two vastly different things, yet there they were together. That's the Yin and Yang deal for sure. 

 I've always wondered if it's a male/female thing or just different snoots. It seems like I recall asking visitors what their perceptions were but I don't remember the results. 

 I've always said that if I hadn't gotten into music I'd have been a scientist, which is true, and I'd get grants to study quirky stuff like this. I can see it now...Paperwhites vs. Millipedes: A Treatise on Perception by Dr. Kelly Simpson. That's funny. 

 Maybe I'll do an unprofessional study...I'll buy a pot of Paperwhites and approach random people to sniff them and watch their facial expressions. That really might be fun, and possibly give me some insight into this phenomenon.

 How can the perception of the same thing be so different? Is it genetic? Olfactory wiring? Body chemistry? Nostril size? If I hadn't gotten into music maybe I'd have found out by way of science (SCIENCE). As it is I'm still curious.

 At the end of the day I think I proved my love for Paige. Knowing how happy those accursed flowers made her was worth fighting the urge to hurl. It's still a mystery. Anyway, cheers Paigey! Don't forget to stop and smell the Paperwhites. 

Random Funny #3,572,7896,466

 

Quote of the Day

"I need a dozen towels so the boys can take a shower." - Bald-Headed John, King of the Plookers 

 

Gonna at Least Go Out with a Laugh

 I believe that laughter is truly the best medicine and that a sense of humor is essential to good health. When I think about laughter I can't help recalling the night my dearly departed buddy Doug told me the entire insane story about an ex of his who was just batshit crazy, and we ended up laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe and I literally thought I might die from laughing. 

 In retrospect I guess dying of laughter might not sound too healthy but that was the hardest I've ever laughed in my entire life. I was laughing and crying and snorting and making funny noises and trying to breathe all at the same time, which is impossible. 

 I've always said that there were three ways I wouldn't mind shuffling off this mortal coil- either playing drums, being with a woman or laughing. That night I thought I might get my wish. I was eventually able to gasp and get enough oxygen to breathe and carry on laughing. 

 Doug and I were crying from laughing and we were hugging each other basically to hold each other up because we were literally helpless with laughter, which before that night I thought was just a saying, but learned that it's a real deal. 

 When it finally died down I felt high as a kite, and the afterglow lasted several days. It still makes me feel happy when I think about it. RIP Doug. Thanks for the laughs buddy.

 Anyway no matter how badly things are going or if I'm feeling down, if I encounter another person I still give them a smile, and if I can spread a laugh, all the better. 

 A friend of mine saw this vintage bumper sticker yesterday and totally cracked up. Mission accomplished. I'm sure it must be getting a few chuckles from people behind me in traffic. Have a nice day, and if you see an opportunity to make someone laugh, then do it. The world will be a better place. 

Quote of the Day

"Bigfoot likes a nice sine wave." - Richard Charles, Bigfoot researcher, musician and synthesizer expert, on how musical tones allegedly attract Bigfoot 

 

Closeup of the Day

 Here we see an unremarkable photo of an unremarkable van that belongs to an unremarkable person. 

The cool thing is that if you zoom in there's a Beagle in the window. He's a good one too. Beagle or no, have a nice day.

Interesting Facts about Dogs

In case you didn't know, if you have a dog he can read you like a book. Just like AI he knows more about you than you yourself. One of the many things that flip me out about my dog is that if I leave the room, he knows my intention. 

 If I'm getting up to do something food related he'll follow me, but if I get up for any other reason he stays put, and it happens every time. How the heck does he know? Even if I try to psych him out and think "FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!" when I'm not getting food he isn't fooled and he stays put. Is he a body language expert? It blows my mind. 

 I live off of peanut butter cheese crackers. They come six to a pack. When I finish them I let him lick the traces of peanut butter that stick to the wrapper. Whether it takes me two minutes or half an hour to eat them he knows when I'm on the last cracker and about to give him the wrapper, and he gets up and comes over. 

 Even if he's out of the line of sight he still knows when I'm on the last cracker. It's beyond impressive, like a magic trick. Can he count? 

 Every now and then I'll watch a video about how to tell if you've bonded with your dog and things like that. I always ace that stuff and I know we're bonded but I still watch those videos occasionally just to recalibrate and tell myself I'm a good person, at least when it comes to dogs.

 One video I just watched said that dogs react when they see you treat others with kindness. As I write this I'm getting misty and it doesn't bother me. Dogs see you and your family and friends as members of the pack. Dogs tend to take care of each other and it actually makes them happy to see you being kind to your "pack." It's been studied.

 They say that dogs are happier, healthier and more secure when they see their owners treat people kindly. Does my dog fit the bill? I think so. He's the sweetest dog in the world, and while I can't necessarily take credit for that, I did set out to raise him to be as sweet as possible, and he's seen me treat others with kindness a time or two.

 I looked after my mom and dad for years and my dog understood that I was trying to protect them as it were, and he'd help out in his own way. He dearly loved his grandmama and granddaddy, and they loved him.

 When I first got him he was afraid of storms, but he could see that I wasn't afraid and in fact enjoyed them, so he quickly lost his fear of thunder, which many animals never do. 

 99% of the time I've had him he's never more than a few feet away from me, as he is now, but when I was looking after my folks and a storm would roll in he'd go sit with mom and dad to keep them safe and make sure they weren't afraid, even though I might be out on the porch enjoying the storm, which is when most dogs would be glued to their owners if not under the bed. That used to give me a serious fuzzy. He was keeping his pack safe.

 Anyone who's gotten to meet my dog will back up what I say about him. He literally has a fan club. Thirty years or so ago he'd have been the greatest chick magnet in history, but as it is he's a goodwill ambassador, and that's much better. 

 He's cured four people of a serious fear of dogs, and to me that's huge. There was a neighbor girl who was maybe four, and she was terrified of dogs. When we'd see them out walking she'd hide behind her mom, even though Bert would be wagging his tail and obviously wanted her to pat him.

 When we'd see them the little girl's mom and I would try to assure her that he was friendly and encourage her to pat him but she was afraid. It went on for at least six months, but finally one day after much cajoling she finally gingerly reached her hand to him and gave him a tiny pat. He licked her hand.

 It was a beautiful moment. Her mom burst into tears and I got a bit misty myself. The quality of her life improved forever on that day. She got to like Bert so much that occasionally they'd knock on the door to see if Bert could come out to play. That was awesome. That's my dog.

 As I've said before, and although I can't prove it, I believe God sent me this particular dog to show His love for me. Several people have said that he has an angelic spirit, and I agree. I believe that we entertain angels unaware. Who says a dog can't be an angel?

 I do know that he's my bud. I'd say that we were joined at the hip, but since he's a true comedian and I at least used to have a sense of humor, I say we're joined at the funny bone. 

 I look after him and he looks after me. I try to stay in a good mood for him as much as for me, but when I'm sad, like when my mom recently died, he won't leave me alone. He'll paw me and lick me and honk and snort at me and try to get me to play and do everything he possibly can to make me feel better. He's a jewel. 

 He makes people happy when they see him approaching with his tail wagging. The last time I took him to the vet they said he looks like a happy dog and that they thought we have a good relationship. That's cool. 

 What's the moral of this story? Your dog knows whether you're a decent person or not so much. Be kind to your pack. 

  

The Most Unique Band That Will Never Exist

I think about music all day long. This is like my version of Fantasy Football. What if I could come up with an imaginary band made up of musicians whom I feel are unique on their instruments...who'd be in it? I had to think about it for a minute or two but not too long. 

 The term unique is overused in the music biz but sometimes a musician comes along once in a generation or even once in a lifetime, like the late great Buddy Rich, who plays so differently than everyone else that they can truly be called unique. Speaking of late, every musician I've chosen is deceased, but it doesn't matter because this is an imaginary band. 

 Since I'm a former drummer I'll start with the drums. Any band is only as good as the drummer, so I need a great one. This is a toughie because obviously there's a ton of drummers I love. 

 Many regard Buddy Rich as the greatest drummer in the world and I agree, but he'd be strictly a Jazz guy, and this band can't be limited by genres. 

 I could go with my boy Bill Bruford, because if ever a unique drummer picked up a pair of sticks it's Bill, but with all due respect, and there's a bunch of that, Bill might be too unique. His playing is incredible and it demands attention, which in this case, imaginary or not, might be too much. 

 As much as I'd love to have Bruford, John Weathers of Gentle Giant, my favorite drummer John Hernandez of Oingo Boingo, Barriemore Barlow of Jethro Tull, Carl Palmer of ELP or any one of a thousand great drummers, I'd have to go with John Bonham. 

 Bonham played with so much power but he was smooth and incredibly accurate. What made him unique was his drum sound. To this day drummers and studio engineers are still trying to get "that Bonham sound." His name has become an adjective, and that can't be overlooked. 

 He had no problem with odd meters, and although Zeppelin wasn't a "Prog" band I have no doubt he could handle that stuff. I have to go with power, accuracy but most of all sound. Bonham's the guy. If this band could somehow exist in another dimension or something, very few people would be unhappy with Bonham on the kit. 

 

To complete the rhythm section I'd go with Mick Karn, solo artist and member of the band Japan on bass. He truly is worthy of the term unique. He played a fretless bass and he never used a pick. His playing was generally legato, although he could play the staccato Pop stuff too. 

 Mick's playing is so unique that it would color the overall sound of the band, but not to the degree that a Bill Bruford would. Just like drummers there's a lot of great bass players that I adore and would be happy to use, but this band would be about uniqueness, and that's Mr. Karn. I have to say that after reading his biography I came to really like him as a person, and personality is crucial to a band. 

On keyboards I'd have to go with my favorite Rock keyboardist of all, Keith Emerson. He had the best left hand in the business. He could play anything from Classical to Jazz to Rock. Enough said. He's my guy. 

On guitar I'd have to go with Jimi. I'm a closet guitar guy and I love great guitarists as much as drummers, and there's a stack of them who could work, but nobody played like Hendrix. Nobody. 

You'd have to have an extraordinary singer. I started to go with Danny Elfman of Oingo Boingo, for his range, power, ability to sing all styles, his knowledge of music and because he's a total badass in general, but I have to go with the golden voice of Greg Lake. There's a million great singers but to my ear only one Greg Lake. 

 So that's my imaginary band. It may be stupid to even think about, considering they're all deceased. Then again the general view among many scientists and String Theory guys is that there are multiple universes, with the possibility of different outcomes, so one never knows. 

 Even though I have 2/3 of ELP it wouldn't be a rehash of that band. Interestingly when Emerson was with The Nice they toured with Hendrix, and Keith and Jimi played together several times. When Keith started ELP there was talk of Jimi joining, so instead of the band being abbreviated ELP it would've been HELP. That's a band for yet another universe I guess. 

 I didn't come up with a name for this band but it doesn't matter. They'd surely be an amazing group. I'd go see 'em. I'd buy a t-shirt too. Imaginary or not, rock on.

 

I Wish I Was as Cool as My Dog

 I wish I was as cool as my dog. He's very handsome and photogenic; he's friendly; he lives in the moment; he doesn't hold grudges; he's a sweetheart; he's smart as a whip and he sees the good in everyone. I can't hold a candle to my dog. He's such a good boy. I guess that's why I like animals more than people.