Like, the editors of this cool alternative publication tracked me down in Taos where I was living in a house made entirely of empty cans of Billy Beer. It was far out, but the past year is kind of a purple haze of Phil Gramm turtles shooting of the butt of giant, spine-covered monkeys.
Bad trip.
Speaking of conservative haze, dudes and dudettes, I am reporting to you from Houston where my new compadres, the Republicans, have been secretly pow-wowing with their, like, unelected leader, the one the gangsters called the Supremes put into the casa that is white (ain't it always, brothers and sisters). I�m into their gig now. I mean Abbie Hoffman is into the whole material thing, so it�s got to be groovy.
At first I was bummed that I had to go to Houston in summer and rap with dudes in ties. And it was a drag to start out. These young, uptight dudes with no hair and matching brown pants performed this sacred knuckle ritual on me. They said it was to force the evil liberal demons out of my microbus and send them back to Austin.
But, dig, what converted me to this happening Republican love cult was the other day when I met this righteous dude, Abdullah Cunel Ingas. Abdullah is like the ambassador or main man from Yeah Man, which is this far out place where the tribesmen are P.O.ed at the free marketeers who hate the communists who are down on the Nasserites who think the Baathists are bummers who are freaked by the bankers and shoe salesmen.
Really bad trip.
But, man, Abdullah introduced me to the ultimate good trip and, dig it, that�s I�m convinced the �publicans be my people. I�m talking qat, the leaf of the gods.
FLYING! You chew it and get feeling happy as an aquamarine clam, then you have enough energy to build a tree fort or make about 154 signs that say �Bush & War=Peace.� Groovy.
Like, in Yeah Man, the Yeah-Man-Knees (cool name, dudes) work in the morning then spend the afternoon chewing qat and washing the car. Tripping!
And nobody�s freaked out or trying to outlaw qat like they do our green friend, Mary Jane. Like, in Yeah Man they used to grow this killer coffee, but now most of the land is qat farms. Abdullah said his fellow Yeah Man Knees spend like $2 million a day on their little green, leafy amigos and Abdullah says it�s an economy trip. It, like, keeps the great government machine rolling. Free enterprise is far out.
Speaking of far out, backstage at the secret Republican meeting, Abdullah slipped some qat to Cheney the Dick after I said the dude needed to lighten up. Mr. Dick started shooting green foam out of his mouth and bit the ear off of some dude with plastic hair name Ashcroft (the dude, the hair was named Cecil, or at least that�s what it told me) Ashcroft freaked out and started barking like a dog at Kay Bailey, this ancient cheerleader dragging this slobbering old dude around (I think he already knew about qat).
This commune leader named Pat Robertson explained that it was groovy because Ashcroft was, like, speaking in tongues. Pat and I shared a leaf of qat and the last I saw of him he was chasing after some chick named Marilyn with a chair screaming, POTATO, BITCH, POTATO!� The dude needs to chill out more than Mr. A.
But, dig, Abdullah gave me a tie-dyed button-down shirt and said I could have the first qat franchise in the United States. He already taught me a few slogans��qat now,� �qat do you fucking want,� and �Republicans are sleepy Democrats on qat.�
I�m, like, working on my web site and should have the means of production in place soon, brothers and sisters. Prepare to groove!