Tag Archives: LSD

Untruth & Consequences: I’m Tardsie, And I’m An Alcoholic Apparently

21 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by in History, Stupidity, True-Ass Tales

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By Tardsie

The Potential To Be An Asshole Is Always There, But Whiskey Helps You Put It To Best Use. That’s Permanent Marker, By The Way.

Part 3 of 4: In which are observed new symptoms to the same regrettable behavior, a bottom is briefly reached, and alcohol is revealed to be the author of all my woes.

If you haven’t already, be sure to check out the first two installments in this exciting series, Don’t Forget To Hurt and So Much Love To Share. If you miss them, you’ll also miss out on your 72 black-eyed virgins in heaven, so there’s that to think about.

My second experience with counselling was no better than the first, but at least was under somewhat different circumstances–this time I really was on drugs.

Also, it was my idea. Sort of.

In a successful bid to be readmitted to college after my expulsion,¹ I undertook a series of actions to demonstrate that I had once and for all forsaken my libertine ways: I went to Alcoholics Anonymous a couple of times, where I gained a respect for the venerable organization, if not a desire to become a part of it; I placed an ongoing ad in my college’s paper advertising the school’s counselling service (a meaningless gesture which claimed the lives of a great many trees, but was nonetheless wholeheartedly applauded by the administration); and visited a substance abuse counselor–a very bad one as it turns out.

Yeah, I Had To Suck A Lot Of Dick To Get Back Into School.

When I came to the counselor I had reached a point where I was the most receptive to substance abuse treatment I have been either before or since. Ironically, in our short time together, this earnest acceptance was about the only thing in me she managed to fix. I arrived a humble, chastened man, ready to open up to the therapist about my chemical intake so that I could get the help I was beginning to believe I so desperately needed. I told her the story of getting kicked out of school, and of the behaviors which had led to it. I was forthcoming about my increasingly heavy use of psychoactive drugs, and didn’t varnish the truth, even when it was uncomfortable.

When I was done, she surprised me by saying, “Well, I think it’s clear that you have a real problem with alcohol.”

Like It Apparently Helped Her Forget That I Was Smoking A Shitload Of Weed.

Although it’s true that I consumed a copious amount of alcohol in my early college years, it had tailed off substantially, and hadn’t played a significant role in my problems with the administration nor contributed meaningfully to my expulsion. Helpfully, I said, “Well, yeah…But, you know–I really think I might have more of a problem with marijuana these days.”

Some of the air seemed to fly from the room. She regarded me as a few frozen seconds ticked by. “The underlying problem is your alcoholism,” she said, her words deliberate and painted with a fatalistic urgency, “And that’s what we have to address first.”

It’s When You’re Just A Little Bit Inclined Toward A Certain Notion Or Ideology.

A little more cautiously, I said, “Well, it’s just that I don’t drink very much any more, and I smoke marijuana pretty much every day, so…”

“It’s alcohol,”² she said, making it clear that not only was the issue closed for discussion, but that I had made an enemy. I saw her once or twice more and talked about my alcoholism. As with my previous experience, it seemed like the best thing for everybody would be for me to just stop going.

It’s Like I Tell My Kids–Being Honest Never Did Anybody Any Good.

However, writing this series has given me an opportunity to reexamine these events in my life beyond the degree to which I have already explored them. As such, I conducted a statistical analysis of my current alcohol and marijuana intake to see how the therapist’s theory plays out over the long run.

Over the past 30 days I’ve had 3 glasses of wine (2 at Killers Concert in Las Vegas 12.28.12, 1 on New Year’s Eve) at 5 ounces each for 15 ounces total, and 1.5 beers (1 beer on New Year’s Eve, split beer with brother-in-law on New Year’s Day) at 12 ounces each for 18 ounces total. Taken altogether, I’ve consumed 33 ounces of alcohol in the last month. Although I can’t peg my marijuana intake with that same accuracy, it can safely be claimed that I’ve consumed no more than 8 ounces of the reefer, less than a quarter of my alcohol consumption during that same period. Statistics don’t lie.

An Alcoholic Never Knows When He’ll Slip. Will My Next Drink Come In Two Weeks At A Super Bowl Party Or Two Months From Now? Sometime In Between? You Think About It, I’ll Smoke A Bowl.

In the final installment, I’m sent to someone who does me a little good. Be sure to join us when we revisit DRUG SCHOOL!

¹The expulsion was for LSD, a decidedly non-addictive hallucinogen that turns your brain into an eight-hour laser-light show. This fact becomes significant in light of the silliness which follows. ∞ T.
²And in hindsight, okay–yeah, I see what she was trying to say. I simply substituted an addiction to alcohol for one to the sweet, sweet cheeba, and that while there are superficial differences in the symptoms, the underlying sickness remains the same. While I don’t accept that as an absolute, I do recognize some truth in it. However, that knowledge was hard-won through years of living, so I’m not sure what was accomplished by the therapist going full OmegaBitch on me right out of the gate like that. A valid observation does fuck all good for anybody when it’s wielded like an ax. ∞ T.

Tardsie’s True-Ass Tales–Take Me Out To The Ballgame

12 Friday Oct 2012

Posted by in Culture, Sport, Stupidity, True-Ass Tales

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By Tardsie

Relax, baseball-haters, the following True-Ass Tales are concerned less with what happens on the field, and more with shenanigans in the stands.

Inexplicably, My Wife Wore An Orange Shirt To This Game. Chivalrous Dude That I Am, I Said, “If You Get Stabbed In The Parking Lot, Don’t Blame Me!”

The Sweetest Beer–Safeco Field, Seattle, Washington

I guess you could call me a beer snob. I don’t drink much these days, but when I do, I prefer to drink something good, which means avoiding the mass-produced fermented goat urine flowing from America’s big breweries. Nonetheless, there have been exceptions.

Sometime around 2000, a buddy and I were at the newly-opened Safeco Field to see a Mariners’ game (I have since forgotten the opponent). One our way from our seats to the smoking platform we passed a concession cart. The guy running the stand was looking the other way, and without hesitation and before the vendor had turned back around, my buddy snatched a Miller Lite from the ice-filled cavity at the front of his stand. We kept walking.

When we got to the smoking area we lit up a joint and split the Lite. Despite it being shit beer in a plastic bottle, it was one of the sweetest brews ever to cross my lips.

I Want You To Know, I Wouldn’t Normally Do This Kind Of Thing.

Love Some Dodgers (LSD) or Man, I AM the Baseball!–Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, California

One time in the 1990s, me and two of my friends, Earl and You Ho, decided to drop some acid at the ball game. The Pirates were in town.

Rarely have I been so fascinated by a baseball game. The span between each pitch seemed interminable and pregnant with promise, as if the whole of the nine innings or for that matter the season hung on the arc and velocity of that single pitch. We were in the nosebleed seats, just below the top ring of the stadium, and the angle seemed impossibly steep, and left us feeling the slightest shift in movement might send us tumbling down into the seats below.

The kids behind us were throwing popcorn, which streaked over our heads like flame-caught moths, surprising us afresh each time they burst past us and fell dying into vast and unknowable distances below our feet.

The drive home was a harrowing kaleidoscope: the sea of tail lights which are the city’s sclerotic arteries, looming, barbwire enshrouded green freeway signs and the lava-lamp face of You Ho as he piloted us through the night.

There’s Precedent. Look Up Dock Ellis.

Letting It All Out–Coors Field, Denver, Colorado

The last time I was at Coors Field was for a Dodgers-Rockies game.  My friend Tyrell got us seats in the club level, where instead of having to stand in the beer line like the unwashed masses, fresh-faced, uniformed attendants would bring the alcohol to us. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of entitlement, the altitude or my own by-then infrequent drinking habits, but I got drunk. Shitty drunk.

We were on the way home when the urge to hurl hit me with immediate, implacable force. I was in the back seat of my buddy’s truck, and although he was quick in pulling over, the vomit was quicker. It was all I could do to get my head out the window before I was spraying mile-high chunks. You should know, I’m a powerful upchucker–it’s all in the diaphragm. I continued vomiting out the window until we got back to Tyrell’s place, where I may have decorated his driveway.

As my (very forgiving!) friend discovered the next morning, I hadn’t been as successful at clearing the car as I’d hoped. The side of the truck, which Tyrell’s company leased for him, was spackled with dried sick. Worse though, I’d managed to get no small amount of the pungent sludge down into the window well, where it was trapped between the panels of the door, free to ferment unmolested.

The story ends happily, though. Tyrell not long after accepted a new job with a different company, who provided him with a new truck of which he was much more fond, not least because it smelled better.

They Still Probably Haven’t Gotten That Stank Out.

Don’t Write Checks My Ass Can–And Will– Cash–Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles California

Those of you who remember my buddy Dave Chen already know that he has a tendency to begin speaking long before his brain properly engages, and will have no trouble following the path of foolish decisions which resulted in a significant cash outlay for him and for me a torpid stupor of inebriation and satiety.

It began one day when for some reason Dave and I had been discussing stadium beer. “Those beers they have at Dodger Stadium are pretty big,” Dave said, “I’ll bet you couldn’t even drink four of them during a game.” Amazingly, Dave wasn’t joking, and soon we had a bet. If I could drink four large beers during a regular, nine-inning ball game, Dave would pay for all the beer I could drink (including the original four) and all the food I could eat. In the extremely unlikely event that I lost the bet, I would be required to pay for his food and drink. A little rattled by my obvious glee, Dave blundered further, insisting that I had to carry out the bet ON A FULL STOMACH.

Yeah, That’s Pretty Much It Right There.

The wager was consummated at a Giants-Dodgers match-up. The game was notable not only for the debut of future first-ballot Hall of Famer Dennys Reyes, but also because we were treated to one of the truly rare and pure sights in late 1990’s baseball, a Barry Bonds home run.

No, The Guy I’m Thinking Of Was Freaking Huge.

As you might imagine, I’d killed the four beers by the third inning and Dave was buying the beer & snacks for another six innings. I don’t remember too much about those later frames, but I do remember approaching a guy selling pizzas.

“I’ll take one,” I said, then jerked a thumb at Dave, “He’s paying.”

Without missing a beat, the guy said to me, “Then why not buy two?”

As A Child I Was Pelted With Ice At Candlestick Park For The “Crime” Of Wearing Blue. That’s Just The Kind Of People They Are.

LA: Separate, But Equal. Well, Separate For Sure–Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, California

A couple of years ago my wife and I were at a ball game. In the parking lot, I was chatting with two Latino dudes. We were all drinking beers. I was surreptitiously smoking from a pipe I concealed in my hand, but as the other two dudes were smoking cigarettes, they couldn’t smell it.

Security pounced on us from out of nowhere. Officers split us up and spoke to us separately. My officer made me dump the beer (you can’t drink in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium), asked to see my tickets before sending me on my way.

As I was leaving, I saw that one of the Latino guys was getting arrested.

And It Loves Me! (And People Like Me)

When the Angels Were Cast From the Heavens–Anaheim Stadium, Anaheim, California

In 1995, I went to game between the Seattle Mariners and California Angels (as the Anaheim Angels were then called) which the Mariners won. On the way out, my girlfriend, a self-described “Newport Bitch” and lifelong Angels fan grumbled about the loss.

The Angels’ World Series Victory In 2002 (Tied With 2010 For WORST World Series Match-Up EVER) Came As Something Of A Disappointment.

“Come on, Kathy, the Angels are up twelve games,” I said, not needing to add that the season was growing short and such a deficit nigh-insurmountable, particularly for the until-then, luckless Mariners. “Can’t you just let the M’s have this one game?”

What neither of us could have known, however, was that this game proved to be the first spasm in what would grow to be one of the most spectacular–and to my thinking, delightful–collapses in baseball history (at the time I think it was #3), as the Angels saw their commanding lead begin to erode against a suddenly ascendant Seattle. The Angels and Ms ended the season in a tie for first place in the American League West, necessitating a one-game tie-breaker to determine the AL West Champion.

Oh, Hell Yeah, Man–I’ve Got It Framed And Everything.

Headlines 06.20.12

20 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by in Celebrity, Entertainment, Music, News, Politics

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By Smaktakula

Relax, Nobody’s Dead. They’re Talking About “Any Sensation Whatsoever.”

In which we comment on today’s headlines, without reading the articles.

If you’re like us, you instinctively distrust those pedantic know-it-alls who doggedly insist upon keeping abreast with the affairs of the day. Friends, reading weakens the legs.

***

Nasty, harsh, overcrowded: Life in a Honduran prison ~ Nevertheless, these institutions remain the Honduran equivalent of a 3-Star hotel.

Zombie Hoax Terrifies Florida Town ~ But now that you’ve had your fun, why don’t you leave those poor people alone? After all, your typical Floridian is about as sharp as a sack of wet mice.

Miley Cyrus—Has One of Her New Songs Been Leaked?! ~ No, no. That sound you hear is a leaking hose on the air-conditioner. Reasonable mistake, though.

Friends don’t draw on faces ~ We’re sorry that you never got the opportunity to attend a four-year institution, bro.

Afghanistan gets veto power on night raids ~ Our staunch allies in the War on Terror reason that if raids are conducted during daylight hours, American forces will have a better opportunity to experience Afghanistan’s many natural wonders.

One Of The Most Beautiful Countries On Earth. The Sucky Part Is That It’s Absolutely Crawling With Afghanis.

In Hollywood, an ’80s Moment ~ Adding the word ‘moment’ to another word–say, for example, ‘teaching moment’–lends an added punch of poignancy. It also makes you sound like a precious assweasel. From now on, just let the moments happen.

Vacuum scares adorable kitten ~ There aren’t too many things which strike us as ‘adorable,’ but terrorizing small and defenseless animals is unquestionably one of them.

B6 may help you recall dreams ~ Perhaps, but a sufficient dose of LSD will let you LIVE them.

Defending the Choice to Be Childless ~ People are so judgmental. Listen, for some people, having children is the right choice. Others, however, find just as much satisfaction in being an evolutionary doorstop.

What to do if you’re raising a bilingual child who refuses to speak Spanish ~ Well, you’re not really raising a bilingual child then, are you?

“Man, It’s A Mess In Here! Doesn’t Anybody Clean The Third Floor Any More?”

Pope’s Butler Formally Charged With Leaks ~ (You’re expecting us to go with something along the lines of So the butler REALLY did do it! aren’t you? Har Har. You’ll wish we had, though…) Normally what happens in the Vatican stays in the Vatican. If the Church has demonstrated anything over the past couple millennia, it is not only the capacity–but also an eagerness bordering on compulsion–to plug little holes.

Preacher: No new rapture date in sight ~ Finally! We thought you’d NEVER realize that the Almighty was just fucking with you.

Team embraces gay athletes ~ Hopefully their brave example will be followed by the rest of the figure skating community.

Affair over for student & teacher ~ Well, we didn’t want to say anything, but Tyfinny-Krystal was starting to look a little long in the tooth.

Ladies–If You Want To Hold On To Your Man, You’ve Got To Think Young!

Missing leg found at sea ~ Yeah, but if even the sharks don’t want it, we’ve got to figure that leg is practically worthless.

How the Military Has Won Egypt’s Presidential Election ~ Pretty much how the military always manages to win elections. It’s not by wasting a lot of time standing around voting, that’s for damn sure.

Old & alone? How about retiring in jail? ~ Right? ‘Cause nothing makes you feel young and loved in quite the same way as does hiding a shiv in your ass-crack.

Dating event bans fat people ~ It wasn’t because they were fat, though–just that their hooves kept marking up the dance floor.

Meet Jon Gosselin’s New Girlfriend ~ We didn’t catch her name. But listen–if you’ve got $75 and a carton of Virginia Slims, she’ll do this *thing.* We’ll tell you this much: it involves a ring-tailed lemur & a Flowbee, and it’s illegal pretty much everywhere but Thailand.

Yeah, Dignity And A Well-Developed Sense Of Self Are Nice And All, But At The Same Time, You Can’t Squeeze Them And Make Honking Noises.

Stupid People Too: Even More Stupider

19 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Crime, Culture, Entertainment, News, Stupidity

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By Smaktakula

We Get It--Thinkin' Makes Your Head Hurt Somethin' Turrible.

It’s no secret that the delightful antics of the very stupid are one of the reasons we get up in the morning. Morons make the world go ’round, and at the very least give us something entertaining to watch until the terrible day when the great lizards burst forth from Mt. Rainier to seal the Earth’s doom.

In the meantime, we hope you’ll enjoy this troika of merry tales exploring the many facets of sub-moronic douchebaggery!

Night of the Hell Cow

This Is What Passes For Fun In Ohio.

Cincinnati, Ohio is a city which has suffered mightily over the years. Situated on the north bank of the Ohio River, the city was once a thriving industrial powerhouse, but today the Queen City is an echoing, haunted shadow of its former self, with the population having fallen nearly in half since 1960. Despite the legions of Cincinnatians fleeing the city like fleas from a rat’s cooling carcass, Cincy still manages to remain among the top 20 most dangerous cities in America. Remembered primarily for a really awful concert and for being the first US city to host race-riots in the 21st Century, and whose most famous citizen is the fictional newshound Les Nessman, Cincinnati’s remaining shell-shocked citizens have become accustomed to a host of degradations.

Inventive Cincinnatian Michelle Allen tried to do something a little different. Like so many of her fellow denizens of the Queen City, Allen aspired to further rend the delicate skein of civilization which binds the troubled city, and not only that, but to do it with panache.  Any liquored-up idiot, she reasoned, could twice encounter the police after urinating on a neighbor’s porch and then chasing frightened children into traffic. Determined not to be just ‘anybody,’ Allen performed this terrifying Margot Kidder impersonation while dressed as a hideous cow-woman.

Really, This Has Just As Much Merit As Almost Any Other Form Of Performance Art.

***

Rubbing Kids the Wrong Way

Who Wouldn't Want This Friendly Fellow All Up In His Or Her Personal Space?

The line between sports fandom and dangerous lunacy has always been precariously thin, nevermore so than in today’s fractured, tribal climate. Sherwin Shayegan, known to the public as the ‘Piggyback Bandit’, not only crosses that line, but stomps its face against the curb until it’s a bleeding, mewling mess begging for the numbing embrace of sweet, sweet death.

Despite the cute nickname, Shayegan is a creepo of the first order. Shayegan recently gained notoriety after he was banned from a number of high schools for a string of athletic-related indecencies. The Piggyback Bandit, it turns out, isn’t just an athletic supporter, but also a fan of both frottage and of the firm, sweaty backsides of high school athletes. During athletic events, Shayegan surprises both the audience and the athletes alike with a little something extra to take home with them, dashing from the crowd and leaping upon the players’ backs with all the joy and fervor of a leg-humping dog.

"itsalmostoveritsalmostoveritsalmostoveritsalmostover"

***

Deranged Dachshund’s Drug-Addled Death a Definite Downer

"Y'know,I've Found That If I Ingest Copious Quantities Of Psychedelics, Bands Like Phish And Dave Matthews Don't Sound So Much Like Ass Set To A Tune."

It’s not just humans who enjoy experimenting with dangerous, mind-altering substances. Everybody knows what happens when you give your cat catnip, and holding a dog down while you blow marijuana smoke in its face is a time-honored rite of young adulthood. In college, Smaktakula’s beloved pet rat was a bold psychonaut and an ongoing experiment in the thresholds of the chemical experience.¹ Critters like to party, too.

But just like people, some animals can’t handle their drugs. Just one of these such creatures was Oscar the long-haired dachshund. Oscar had apparently been pestering Nicholas Modrich and Jamie Hughes, the fry-loving burnouts with whom he shared an apartment, to share some of their hoard of hallucinogens, until the couple finally relented, dosing the pestering pooch. As an irritating little freakdog, it would be assumed that the tiny creature would be prepared for an eight-hour mind fuck and Technicolor light show.² Sadly, this appears not to be the case, and little Oscar completely lost his shit. Although the evening was highlighted by a madcap, semi-nude chase through the hallucinatory streets of Snellville, Georgia, the evening ended in tragedy when the frenzied dog encountered a moving vehicle that was most definitely not an hallucination.

Drugs Aren't As Much Of A Threat To Society As Are Some Of The Assholes Who Take Them.

¹ I miss you still, Short Bus. Old friend–this cold, wicked world was never made for one so beautiful as you. < S.
² This becomes all the more remarkable when it is remembered that dogs cannot see color. ∞ T.

Headlines 03.06.12

06 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Celebrity, Cinema, Culture, Entertainment, Music, News, Politics, Stupidity

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By Smaktakula

Oh, Man! If We Had A Dime For Every Time This Has Happened.

In which we opine upon the headlines of the day without first reading the articles.

***

Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine backs Rick Santorum ~ See Kids? A bacchanalian life of drug-fueled debauchery is not without its consequences. Although the pernicious effects of addiction upon the family structure are well-documented and widely known, critical-thinking skills and good judgement are additional casualties.

The Upside of Dyslexia ~ There is no dog-bamn u9sibe!

‘Star Trek’ Divorce: Fan Forced To Leave Spaceship Digs ~ He should take some consolation in the fact that as someone who has, however briefly, known the carnal delights of female affection, he’s relatively unique among Trekkies.

Don’t worry, Eddie Murphy lives ~ We weren’t worried. Were you?

Libyan militia accused of torturing to death ambassador to France ~ The ambassador repeatedly cried out “Mercy,” which as you know means ‘thank you’ in French, so in a way he was asking for it.

When It Comes To Holding A Grudge, Smaktakula Does Not Fuck Around.

Story: Woman stalked for 17 years: ‘I don’t think it’s over’ ~ Really? After nearly two decades, you don’t think he’s ready to move on?

Miracle baby born from a single sperm ~ Although we were inattentive (at best) in biology class, our understanding is that barring a multiple birth, the formula is 1 sperm +1 egg = 1 very expensive, back-talking pet.

Rising NBA star sleeps on sofa ~ That’s where a lot of former NBA stars sleep as well.

OUTRAGE: TEEN PERP INVOLVED IN NEAR-FATAL SHOPPING CART PUSH MAY WALK ~ Would you people rather have him go through life a cripple? Not Promethean Times. We believe in you, Teen Perp!

So Very Brave.

“Help! I hate my husband.” ~ It sounds like you’re doing just fine, and don’t need our help despising your spouse.

One-Night Stand or Rape? ~ If you can’t satisfactorily answer that question on your own, maybe you shouldn’t drink so much.

Shakira saved from sea lion ~ How many times do we have to tell you?–Nature does not have your best interests at heart.

Gaga’s scent smells like expensive hookers ~ We prefer the delightful bouquet of burned crack infused with fear-sweat and just a hint of urine that distinguishes so many of today’s down-market hos.

Her Designer Fragrance Is Called ‘As Dead I Well May Be.’

Evidence: Hitler had love child ~ ‘Love’ child doesn’t really work in the same sentence as ‘Hitler.’ We know it’s not particularly politically correct, but if there’s ever a time to bring back ‘bastard,’ this is it.

Really? The Claim: Excess Weight Raises the Risk of Acne ~ Because it’s that zit on your nose that’s keeping you home on Saturday nights, man-tits.

Style icon dies at fashion show ~ How gauche!

Police: Mom gave kids heroin ~ Kids today don’t know how nice they have it. We considered ourselves lucky if Mom gave us a nutmeg & codeine-syrup cocktail and told us to ‘Fuck off for a few hours,’ so she and Uncle Whatshisname could have some privacy.

O’Donnell & Handler offend little people ~ Yeah, but who cares what the little people think?

Making People Short Is God’s Way Of Letting Us Know They Don’t Matter.

San Fran earthquake survivor dies at 109 ~ When you take into account that the Great Quake was in 1906, it’s tragic how long that guy suffered.

Is Drew Barrymore Expecting? ~ Expecting what? We figure if that chick were fertile, she’d have been knocked up years ago.

TSA agent turns mother’s boobs into tourist attraction ~ We visited. Truly a land of milk & honey.

Ohio victim’s brother: ‘Lost my best friend’ ~ And his brother got killed–talk about a shitty day!

Cocktail of Popular Drugs May Cloud Brain ~ Wait–intoxication is a possible side-effect of consuming drugs? The devil you say!

I Was Only Dropping Acid To Restore My Ph Balance, And Had No Clue That I’d Be Trippin’ Balls. I’m A Gazebo, By The Way.

***

More Current Events Irresponsibility:

The Elderly Are Right About One Thing At Least: Kids Today Have It Too Damn Easy

21 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, History, Stupidity

≈ 8 Comments

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By Smaktakula

The Old Days Sucked. The Only Two Pleasures In Og's Wretched Existence Were Warm Bearcat Stew And, Apparently, Humping A Bag Lady.

One of the universal cornerstones of adulthood is the opportunity to bitch vociferously among the members of one’s own generation about how easy kids have it today. That every generation since the dawn of history has engaged in comparing the young unfavorably to itself might be viewed simply as exaggerated flights of reminiscence into the misty days of an idealized youth. However, one has only to note the tremendous progress and scientific innovation of our species, which has pushed back the thick crust of suck that once covered the earth entirely, but is now puddled around the globe in places like Mexico, Somalia or Kentucky. Indoor plumbing, the internet and fake boobs, among other technological marvels, have made the lives of each subsequent generation better than that which preceded it When an older generation complains about how good the ‘kids today’ have it, they’re usually right.

Yeah, But For Most Of Us It's Gotten Better. You Hang In There!

Nowhere is this more true than in the realm of illicit drugs. Despite their official prohibition, drugs have become increasingly available since the 1960s. In the ensuing five decades, LSD has come and gone and come again several times and Quaaludes® have disappeared entirely, but the availability of intoxicants, bolstered by new or newly rediscovered drugs like ketamine, PCP and methamphetamine, has only increased. Moreover, several states have legalized marijuana.¹ And for those who, despite the pharmacopoeia readily available to the young and old alike, are somehow unable to find anything else, spice rack highs like nutmeg² are as close as your local Piggly Wiggly.

They Didn't Always Come Boxed Or In Flavors. Back In Our Day, Going To The Supermarket For Whippets Meant That Your Buddy Kept A Lookout While You Sucked Down Reddi-Wip Like Lindsay Lohan On A Coke-Flavored Dick.

¹Marijuana has been legalized in these states for medical patients only. You must have a valid medical condition, such as a tummy ache, before getting a prescription for the sweet, sweet cheeba. ∞ T.
²For reals–in sufficient quantities, nutmeg is an hallucinogen. Equally for reals–stay as far away from Lady Meg as you can, for she is wicked and cruel. Trust us on this one, kids. ∞ T.

Commercials We Do Not Like: Bad Andy

22 Tuesday Feb 2011

Posted by in Culture

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By Smaktakula

Look--At Least Now You Know Now Why Your Pizza Tastes Like Monkey Ass On Cardboard.

Television commercials are subject to the same limitations as all human endeavors: they don’t always turn out the way they’re supposed to.  Advertising can be particularly vulnerable to this in that failure might not only mean that a spot was unable to steer buyers toward a product, but that it actually turned existing buyers away.

These Horrifying Simulacra Did Not Encourage Customers To Buy Duracell Batteries. Rather, They Caused Terror-Induced Incontinence.

At the same time, innovations such as digital recording which make it easier to skip through commercials have given advertisers greater anxiety that their message not be heard.  Increasingly these advertisers are forced to concoct new and outlandish advertising campaigns to seize–however briefly–the viewer’s consciousness before his moth-like attention span gives way.

This Advertising Campaign Was Funny . . . (Wait For It) . . . About A Million Years Ago.

Sometimes, as in the case of GEICO’s ‘Cavemen‘ or the ‘Old Spice Man‘ commercials, a radical vision can portray an existing product in a fresh light.  More often, however, these attempts are forgettable misfires, quickly relegated to the dustbin of commercial history.

"But You Know What Would Really Help Us Sell Our Sandwiches?--A Horrifying Creature That Looks Like What You'd See If You Swallowed An Eye-Dropper Full Of LSD While Battling A 104° Fever."

But there exists an odious few campaigns, spectacular misfires which have been elevated to the pantheon of all-time rancid commercials, which cling in the mind like dog shit on the bottom of a shoe.  One such commercial campaign was Domino’s late, but certainly unlamented, ‘Bad Andy.’  Around the Turn of the Century, Bad Andy stunk up the airwaves like nothing else.

We Don't Recall Anyone Asking For 'Gay Andy.'

“Bad Andy, Good Pizza.”  Conceived upon a foundation of fallacies, the campaign was doomed to fail.  The first of these was the mistaken belief that, despite the cautionary example of Pets.com, sock puppets would appeal to anyone but the poorest of children.  The second miscalculation was even more severe: a failure to recognize that a feces-flinging primate run amok inside a pizza parlor is not only unappealing, but shockingly unhygienic.

Don't Be Alarmed--She's An Actress And Wasn't At All Hurt During The Filming Of This Classic Scene. Of Course, She's Dead Now.

Thanks to the magic of the marketplace, consumers quickly convinced Domino’s that the savory aroma of fresh pizza and the nasty funk of the zoo’s monkey house were two tastes which didn’t belong together.  Bad Andy was unceremoniously yanked from television, and with the exception of a brief stint as Deputy Director of FEMA in August of 2005, the irritating puppet has maintained a low profile ever since.

Bad Andy’s debut!

The mouth-watering stank of moist primate:

And he’s a fucking thief now . . .

Me vale madre! Bad Andy en Espanol!

Jeez. Maybe They Should Call You 'Sleazy Andy.'

Want more shitty commercials?  Try these:

Bush’s Original Baked Beans

The Olive Garden

A1 Steak Sauce

Remembering The Sixties

25 Monday Oct 2010

Posted by in Culture, History

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By Smaktakula

When an aging Baby Boomer wistfully opines, If you can remember the Sixties, you weren’t there, he wants to give the impression that life during the 1960s was like this:

"Brothers And Sisters, After We Bring The System To A Crashing Halt, We're Gonna Usher In The Age Of Aquarius. But First: Thirty-Six Hours Of Rainbow-Drenched Sex In An Environment Entirely Free Of Consequences! Far Out!"

When in all likelihood, reality was just a smidge more prosaic:

"When Martha Anderson Hears This Peachy Song I Wrote For Her, She's Sure To Let Me Get To Second Base!"

Meg: A Clear And Present Danger To The Golden State

09 Thursday Sep 2010

Posted by in Crime, Culture, Drug Culture, Drugs, General Foolishness, Health, People, Places

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By Smaktakula

When Promethean Times first commented on the phenomenon of kids using nutmeg as a recreational hallucinogen (see Sweet Lady Meg), we believed–perhaps foolishly–that these were isolated incidents, and that the so-called ‘nutmeg epidemic’ would evaporate, as with Jenkem or the choking game.  It appears we were wrong.

Just as psychedelic art celebrated the mindspike chromaticism of LSD and reefer’s mellow high in the late 1960s, today’s nutmeg subculture is working hard to get more users on the Spice.  California has been particularly hard hit by this pernicious scourge.

California Will Say No To Pot, But Yes To Meg.

Celebrating 40 Years Of Hallucinogens In Baseball

14 Monday Jun 2010

Posted by in Baseball, Culture, Drug Culture, Drugs, General Foolishness, History, Mythology, People, Sports

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By Smaktakula

On June 12th, 1970, Dock Ellis of the Pittsburgh Pirates somehow managed to pitch a no-hitter while tripping his balls off on LSD.       

As with any such feat, the success is not due to Ellis alone.  Without his teammates’ stellar defense, this achievement would have been a longshot at best.       

According to Ellis, much of the credit for the victory must be accorded to the baseball, which provided invaluable aid by telling the frying hurler which pitches to throw.       

"With This No-Hitter, My Plan Is At Last Coming To Fruition. You Know What Must Happen Next. BURN THEM, DOCK! BURN THEM ALL!"