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Thursday, August 30, 2007
Letters to Quest For Slack!
LETTERS
I'll take a break from writing to post some cool notes and letters this blog has received about Atlanta and Bestoink Dooley.
Hey Mike,
I believe I remember you from the Strip. Could that be? Real young
kid at the time, as I recall. I probably have a photo of you in my
proof sheets. If you have not been to my web site the hippie stuff is
Carter Tomassi
(Carters website is a must to visit to see where I grew up!, and yes, he has found photos!)
That was a GREAT story.
Guess where the first house was that I ever owned outright in my life -- on Wessyngton Road
directly across the street from the Baptist church !!!! That was in 1968-69 !!
LOL FABULOUS
And we ALL knew Bestoink Dooley (aka George Ellis) and have been to his theater many times.
One of my friends, Jeannie Muse, from the 1960s who lived in and around the Mitchell House (as we all did at one time or another)
and I have have remained close friends ever since. She is coming to visit me sometime this week.
And she knew Bestoink more "intimately" than I --- I'll have her get in touch with you and tell you some of the
stories ;-)
She's not an Internet savvy person -- and has no Email knowlege -- so give me a phone number where she can reach
you and we'll give you a call, if you would like.
Miki (Foote) Davis
Just tried to search George Ellis and Bestoink, getting to see whom
was a great treat of visiting my grandmother in Decatur from South
Georgia backwaters, and I found an interview with you. Wow a
personality! I was so happy to read you were associated with the
Bettie Paige movie. My mother, named Bettie was a brunette and
resembled her so my photographer father was always posing her Bettie-
ish and suggestive. Bettie was always a good association to me. I
greatly enjoyed the movie and felt the person behind the masque.
Good job.
You've had an exciting life.
Pat Edmondson
You are, of course, referring to the one and only George Ellis. He is departed but will never be forgotten by those who loved him.
Many of us followed George and his Buddha presence from theater to the theater. First there was the Festival Theater downtown, then the Film Forum at Ansley, then a time at the Garden Hills, then a never realized attempt at the Ellis Cinema (now Variety Playhouse). Sadly, George died before the Ellis really came to realization.
George's memorial service was one of the most amazing events that I have ever had the pleasure to attend. The old theater space below the Women's Club on Peachtree (near 14th) was absolutely packed. For about 3 1/2 hours, people told George Ellis stories, laughed, hugged and generally became one with one of the most wonderful people to ever stroll the streets of this fair city. When we left, everyone was aglow.
There are tapes in existence of George doing the Bestoink Dooley character. I know someone who will know where those might be, I will try to seek him out and inquire about that.
George also had an off and on theater and film career. There may be taped footage of some of his theater performances, although they would likely be of questionable quality after all these years (the archival quality of video tape is not great). He also appeared in a few independent films in the 60's and 70's. You could google or imdb his name and find some of those. I worked on one or two and they were definitely not high points in cinematic history, and thus might be out of print (even in VHS).
Good luck with your search. I will try to get info on the Bestoink Dooley tapes.
Further.
Larry Rob
Hi mike, I remember Bestoink Dooley and the movie theater he ran the Ansley mall movie theater.
His real name was George something. I know he had a son here in Atl and I think that's who you'd
need to contact. I knew him years ago but have not seen him in years. I'll look into it and get back to
you. They were Greeks and I have some Greek friend who still live here that may no George Jr's
where abouts.
Sammy Blue
This site might have some way to link up with other fans to find some footage - it's devoted to regional horror hosts: E-Gor's Chamber of TV Horror Hosts: http://myweb.wvnet.edu/e-gor/tvhorrorhosts/hostsb.htmlThis site also links to a pix of him: http://cinematreasures.org/theater/12110/Horror host footage is sometimes hard to track down these days, though - regional tv didn't have the best track record of keeping materials around. The only footage outside of an Ed Wood film of Vampira is a short promotional clip made to sell a possible syndicated Vampira package - the original shows themselves seem to be lost at this point. Bestoink's film Legend of Blood Mountain might be the best source for footage of him, it was released a while back on video but I don't know that there is any DVD copies floating about: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0229528/One of the best "gray market" places for rare film is Pimpadelic Wonderland, which might be able to track it down if they don't already have a copy: http://pimpadelicwonderland.com/videolibraryAF.htmlHope some of this helps! Doug Rednour
I used to watch The Big Movie Shocker on old channel 5 every weekend and enjoyed Bestoink Dooley aka George Ellis!
He also played in a B Movie filmed at Stone Mountain, I think it was called Monster of Blood Mountain.
He passed away a few years ago and his son, who ran the Film Forum with him may still be living.
I spent many a stoned weekend attending movies at his theatre. We go get a sandwich at Crops and B
and after the flick have a munchies fix at the Fruit Jungle.
PS: Does anyone have any tapes or CD's from the Booger Band, I know they did some? I heard a cassette that was floating
around in about 1970 with "Feel A Pain" on it.
Thanks,
Duane Blalock
Posted at 10:13 am by Psychomike
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Friday, September 14, 2007
Del stood in front of the Sputnik.
Here it was, returned from space in all its glory. The Sputnik. We didn't have NASA before it went up. We didn't even really have a space program. Science fiction dreams and decades of hope were before him.
And the Soviet Union had been first.
Del walked over to sign the guest book and waited behind an old woman who constantly glanced over her shoulder as she wrote her thoughts on the exhibit of art, science and Sputnik. Del spent his time gathering his thoughts. Why hadn't America accomplished this? Could our system ever catch up to the Soviets? Or would anti-communism, born of paranoia and a crazy drunk named McCarthy forever keep us a step behind?
Del stepped up to the book and stopped to read what the old woman had written.
PLEASE TELL MY HUSBAND, WHO FOUGHT HITLER IN STALINGRAD, I LOVE HIM STILL AND FOREVER. HE IS IN ONE OF YOUR LABOR CAMPS.
"Labor camps? What labor camps?", Del wondered. He stepped forward and picked up the pen and wrote in the book,
Thank you for making a little boys dream come true.
Del walked into the sun his head filled with thoughts. The Soviet Union had ended forever racism, sexual inequality, had a vibrant music and arts scene. Equality was the name of the Soviet Union. And all they had to do was pass a few laws, and it had all ended. He had read this in the New York Times, while reading on other pages of civil rights workers vanishing from the south, the Democrats fighting for segregation, the horrible noise of rockabilly and country music. The Soviets understood folk music. And Del loved folk music, with its songs of labor, fighting the bosses and the future where all would be equal and fair and one. Just by passing a few laws.
All over New York City he could hear this song:
IF I HAD A HAMMER (The Hammer Song)
words and music by Lee Hays and Pete Seeger
If I had a hammer
I'd hammer in the morning
I'd hammer in the evening
All over this land
I'd hammer out danger
I'd hammer out a warning
I'd hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land
If I had a bell
I'd ring it in the morning
I'd ring it in the evening
All over this land
I'd ring out danger
I'd ring out a warning
I'd ring out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land
If I had a song
I'd sing it in the morning
I'd sing it in the evening
All over this land
I'd sing out danger
I'd sing out a warning
I'd sing out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land
Well I've got a hammer
And I've got a bell
And I've got a song to sing
All over this land
It's the hammer of justice
It's the bell of freedom
It's the song about love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land
Del walked to the train and headed for The Village. THE VILLAGE. Home of folk, pot and heroin and booze and music and girls who liked to have sex and poets and life. He stepped into the world and headed for the newsstand. There was Leftie, old and grizzled a survivor of prohibition and seller of his magic cigarettes. 50 cents each, rolled on a machine he kept in the stand and a great buzz right before he went to hear music or poetry or sit in a bar and drink and argue the world.
" Hey I see your ex-partners made the papers today" Leftie said, holding up the paper.
All the color fell from Del's face. He could feel his feelings like waves- crashing from his head to his toes. He didn't think seeing a picture of the two of them would hurt him so. But it did. The act he had helped create, had moved on.
"No thanks", Del said, "Just the cigarette".
Del stood in the alley, remembering the abortion and watching the smoke float into the air.
"Del, man howdy!", came a voice breaking the wall Del was constructing in his mind.
"Hi", Del glanced up, "have a smoke?" and his friend stepped up and said sure and smiled and took a drag off the joint.
"You ever try heroin?", his friend asked.
Heroin. The drug of the village next to booze. Del had noticed how beautiful the women looked on it, heroin.
"Why the hell not", Del said.
"Why the hell not."
Posted at 11:11 am by Psychomike
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Sunday, September 23, 2007
There's a kind of rush.......
Chapter 5
"The Glasgow Caledonian University study of 126 users of the class A drug found many were holding down normal jobs and relationships and passing exams. The report said heroin could be taken in a controlled way" - BBC
It is an odd thing about heroin. A large percentage of addicts were abused as children, most often sexually. So the government failed to protect them as kids, and then arrests them as adults. Those in countries with legalized heroin and thus a constant quality available live longer, hold down jobs, families. With illegal heroin there is no quality control, the result is often death. By making heroin illegal, we give a death sentence to the self medicating abused.
There was a lot of dope around the music scene and a lot of musicians were deep into drug, especially heroin. People--musicians--were considered hip in some circles if they shot smack. Some of the younger guys like Dexter Gordon, Tadd Dameron, Art Blakey, J. J. Johnson, Sonny Rollins, Jackie McLean, and myself--all of us--started getting heavily into heroin around the same time. Despite the fact that Freddie Webster had died from some bad stuff. Besides Bird, Sonny Stitt, Bud Powell, Fats Navarro, Gene Ammons were all using heroin, not to mention Joe Guy and Billie Holiday, too.There were a lot of white musicians--Stan Getz, Gerry Mulligan, Red Rodney, and Chet Baker--who were also heavily into shooting drugs.
-Miles Davis in "Miles: the autobiography", page 129
Del sat at the kitchen table as his pal drained the spoon with his syringe. Del puffed on his cigarette and waited for his turn. He was nervous, but ready.
"Like man Bird, you dig, Charlie Parker can riff and jam off a sound and this dude who wrote HOWL, whatsisnameagin?", the pal asked.
Del looked up from the spoon, "Ginsberg".
"Yeah, yeah that's him, he's like a poet but he's a jazz poet man the way he riffs off the word 'who' is so cool and that's heroin man. That is heroin.That's poetry and all that jazz man, jazz and poetry are heroin. It's a consciousness a beat. A beat. A beat. It's ON THE ROAD so it isn't just poetry its everywhere, dig?".
Del nodded.
"We'll do this and go to Red Drum man and hear some poets. You'll see the heroin is the fuel of art man, its so cool. Here, let me do you first man. Bird did a tune about his dealer man, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDo_CPvdlP4 maybe he owed him money or he like was paying him tribute, roll up your sleeve man, but if you like this you can maybe do a comedy bit on me, Skeetz you know, like make comedy into jazz or poetry, ok I'm gonna put this in man your arm is so clean here we go...."
WOWWHATAFUCKINGRUSHLIKEFALLINGOFFACLIFFBUTLANDINGINMIDAIR it's warm. warm. warm like the night before christmas when dad was still alive and warm like a fireplace with a hot girl warm like butter left on a hot stove I can't move my legs my eyes I'm moving but where why am I moving my legs are so heavy I feel sick I feel sick that's it what if I could have said the words that kept dad alive I threw up I think or did I my eyes I'm so sleepy can't make the scene must make the scene I want to experience everything I want to sleep.
perchance to dream.
Posted at 12:43 pm by Psychomike
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Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Impact Of Sen. McCarthy
FOOTNOTE:
Senator Joseph McCarthy had a major impact on both Del and my generation. Yet it was not until 4 years ago that the truth actually came out about him. Just as I've previously covered L. Ron Hubbard and will cover others like Tim Leary, Duane Allman, Ken Keysey and others who had impacts on us both, so too I will post at times McCarthy.
This time I decided a footnote was in order- the true story as revealed by CIA is so out there I figured you'd want to read it before we continued here. Del and I did not know the true story when Del was alive. But you should. And I know Del would have wanted to know the hidden truth, too.
My talk on Joe McCarthy is online. It is based on declassified CIA papers and there were some strange things, and funny things that happened when I began to write and talk about them.
1. I tried contacting George Clooney's office when he was preparing to do his film on Murrow and offer him not my speech, but the CIA report. His assistant interrupted me, stated that CIA was not involved in the McCarthy era, and hung up.
2. I contacted a college professor and expressed an interest in returning to teaching- in this case contrasting the popular culture- films, books, etc on the era from THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE to the romance of the left over Soviet spies of the era and was told that not only would he not read anything from CIA, but he would never allow such a class to be taught.
3. As far as I know, I was the ONLY person on earth who talked about the CIA revelations. In the latest issue of STUDIES IN INTELLIGENCE the CIA magazine, it is revealed that the decision to release the Family Jewels was based on the academic and press worlds having no idea how to deal with the McCarthy revelations.
4. I spoke twice on the story. When I spoke to military students the class was quiet for a long time afterwards. Stunned disbelief I call it. The question I got more often than not, was that the CIA couldn't have that much power. The second place I spoke at was a meeting of socialists and leftists. They burst into long, thunderous applause twice after I was finished. The comments I heard were often based around, "the reseach can't be touched" and "Now it makes sense what happened!"! People who had in some cases for decades believed the CIA spin (as we all had) and used it for their own propaganda, "got it" the fastest.
5. I did lose a few friends over the story, and even got a few death threats (which I ignored). Friends who knew me challenged me over simple things. I was accused of being a CIA spy. I was told women I was sleeping with I couldn't be. People who had been to my plays actually questioned if I'd ever done a play! Implying I guess some CIA agent must have actually created them. When I discovered I couldn't spell out McCarthy's name on a blog mirror I had to set up as so many people were coming to the original site, because of the numbers of letters I dropped one letter. This was seized on as proof that the entire story was false and made up by me.
Even though there was a link to the CIA website with the information! It was all very Kafkaesque.
6. I don't know if other outlets would like me to give the talk, but I certainly wouldn't mind doing it. Email me.
Posted at 10:27 am by Psychomike
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Sunday, September 30, 2007
Trippin' With Duane Allman
Hitchin' A Ride
Long before rappers called each other "Dog", that nickname was used by Duane Allman. The girls called him Skydog.
With Duane's long face, mutton like sideburns he did kind of resemble a puppy.
The Great Speckled Bird was the underground paper in Atlanta that I became the high school correspondent for and also sold to make ends meet. I was living in a duplex house, 3 floors with two roommates. Our rent was $90 a month, which meant with gas and electric, we had to come up with around $45 each for bills. It was very cheap to be a hippie. The Bird had wisely latched onto the music scene in Piedmont Park that had begun by accident. The Hampton Grease Band (who make an early appearance on The Mothers Of Invention LUMPY GRAVY album) spotted electrical plugs in the ground and set up to play. No one stopped them.
The Hampton Grease Band improvised a music set- during a riot! More on that later......
There were no permits necessary. Bands began to show up and just play. The Bird created a music scene by making these weekend free music scenes the focal point of the emerging hippie scene, but it was the Allman Brothers who began to attract several thousand fans every time they played.
Duane was people. The day the band signed a record contract I congratulated him as he walked by me. I was sitting on the sidewalk selling the Bird, he stopped, said hello to me and sat down next to me on the sidewalk. He talked about what it meant to sign, how now they had to get better equipment and they had to do sets, not just jamming away as the mood struck them onstage.
Greg was not. I congratulated him when he walked by me later and he didn't even turn to say thanks. Was I surprised when he later married Cher? No.
Those weekends watching one of the greatest guitarists ever play I will never forget.
But that isn't my favorite Duane story.
When a new batch of acid was around dealers would go to the hardcore and give away hits to the hippies on the street that wanted them. It was marketing. By the weekend the reviews were in and the thousands of weekenders arrived and would search out and buy the highly praised hits. I was always on the strip, so when given the chance to try the latest orange barrel I said sure.
I never had a bad trip, and often wondered how others did. It wasn't until years later that I realized in those days there was no treatment or medication for depression. If someone had an anxiety attack or bout with depression, doctors told them to snap out of it. That was it. Judging from the numbers of people on anti-depressants today, there were many people who should have avoided psychedelics. In those days the thought was LSD was causing anxiety and depression attacks, today a doctor would treat the patient for bi-polar or depression issues.
So I've taken the orange barrel and no longer feel like selling The Bird and camp out on the sidewalk. The tingling in my jaw had given way to a big grin and then
Duane comes up and we talk, and he asks me what I think about the blues.
Like most southern white kids, I knew B.B. King and that was about it. I knew the UK bands that were influenced by the blues, The Animals, The Yardbirds, John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, The Stones but knew next to nothing about actual blues music.
He invited me to ride on his bike to his place and listen to his blues collection, and I accepted.
Riding on the back of a motorcycle tripping my ass off wasn't part of my non-plan for the evening, but I went with the flow.
Duane was the first person I ever met that collected records. He had 78's, 45's, albums and music sold in little towns in Mississippi but nowhere else. He opened a bottle of wine and produced a joint and I sat down to listen.
From Delta blues to Chicago, from the Cajun country of Louisiana to the shanties of Alabama, for the next 8 hours I got the ultimate lesson on the blues. He would tell me the region, what he knew of the artist and the stories of jail, chaingangs, riding the rails, falling in love with the wrong woman- everyone liked the blues but no one wanted to have the blues. For 8 hours I got a course on the blues from Duane while tripping.
I passed out on the couch with the sound of Duane playing his slide guitar.............
Posted at 07:42 am by Psychomike
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Saturday, October 06, 2007
FOOTNOTE: Everyone was on something
AMERICA LOVED BOOZE
When World War 2 ended there was no awareness of post stress disorder. Soldiers who secretly sought psychiatric advice (so as not to jeopardize getting a job) discovered science had nothing for them. A pat on the back, the words "put it behind you", and a fee.
Booze became the crutch, the self medication for the nation. The IRS allowed businessmen to take two martini's off each lunch. Martini's weren't fruit cocktails as they are today, that was a full glass of gin or vodka with a whisper of vermouth. Two. For lunch!
Alcohol became the fuel of the nation. Our economy soared, people kept well stocked bars in their homes. A pitcher of martinis for when dad got home for work? Hey, teach the kids to do it!
As society separated between the straights and freaks, straights got bombed on booze. Being drunk was fun. Comedians, singers, TV shows incorporated drunks into the entertainment field. In Chicago a ten or 20 dollar bill behind your driver's license could keep you from being arrested on a DUI. $10.
Because everyone drank.
When an Andy Griffith reunion show appeared, Otis the town drunk had to be shown as sober. This was not the case in the original show!
STOP AND DRINK was a cop bar I went to when I first came to Chicago. Off Chicago Avenue (it is now a yuppie bar) I walked in just in time to see a drunk cop fire his gun into the ceiling, egged on by his also drunk pals. It was 2 in the afternoon. They were all working.
But at least they weren't smoking pot!
Foster Brooks lived long enough to see his appearances dry up when making drunk jokes became politically incorrect.
Whenever we heard that the YAF group (the conservative version of SDS) or Young Republicans were meeting we would wait until the party had been going on at least two hours and show up. They had loads of free booze, and the first time I did this I walked into the lobby of a hotel to see a guy projectile vomit into a planter. There were already people passed out on furniture in the lobby. We were never quizzed doing this, because even these groups security were wasted.
So we hippies weren't the only ones getting high. The whole country was using booze.
Frankie Fontaine was a huge hit playing a drunk on The Jackie Gleason Show
When work was over, bars filled up every night of the week as people drank their way through rush hour. To go home and have a drink, and then watch people pretending to be drunk. Our greatest period of economic growth, of the creation of the suburbs and two car garages, was squeezed out of a bar rag.
Dean Martin made drinking in public and onstage cool- though often it was a gag and there was often no booze in the glass.
Hippies had booze too. God awful wines like Boone's Farm, purchased because they were so cheap.
I had some friends who were jocks who had heard I was starting to go hang out with hippies and they decided to try and rescue me, with a 1960's version of an intervention.
They invited me over when they were trying to make New York (aka Long Island) Iced Teas, made out of about 5 to 7 kinds of booze, but they had no recipe for and were playing hit and miss.
As one told me how stupid pot was he threw up on himself, staring at the string of spittle from his lips to his shirt. One of his pals chimed in that pot was stupid. That was pretty much the argument they all had, as they searched for the real Iced Tea.
None of those gathered could even walk.
I quietly left and headed home, looking forward to a joint.
Posted at 12:40 pm by Psychomike
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Sunday, October 14, 2007
DEL'S WORLD
Del loved jazz and folk music. Science fiction. Mixed with booze and narcotics.
I have been asked if I've ever thought of turning this blog into a book, but the problem is this is written in the form of a blog- and you have to be able to follow links.
This is especially true today.
Though racism may have ruled around the country, in New York City this was not the case. Especially in the Village. The Village was an oasis in America. While experimentation and spontaneity frightened most Americans, the Village was built on it. Del heard the word Beat, and he knew the word from his carny days. It meant a person who was beat down, on the downs. But in the Village Beat was a rhythm, was a rebel, was a riff that emerged while no one was watching. It was words following music and it was hip. Hipper than thou.
To the masses it was Maynard G. Krebbs on Dobie Gillis. It was Beat NIK as in Sput NIK - there was something vaguely communist about this much freedom.
The Village was asking political questions no one dared ask, it was chicks that would live with and have sex with you, long before hippies made it a national pastime. It was nights of poetry, stoned and nodding out to jazz riffs so cool- well, this cool:
Miles Davis and John Coltrane
Miles Davis cool and collected measuring each note while Coltrane walked, no strolled into uncharted territory. Miles wasn't his shadow as much as his co-conspirator. Carefully measuring each note and laying down a beat so Coltrane could soar. It was rooms full of smoke, drinks and drugs and waking up to find you had just been somewhere without benefit of luggage.
It was Thelonius Monk. The tragic junkie. A German film group shot him for a documentary while he was being evicted from his home. He mistakenly thought they would help him with the rent. No chance. Not with these kind of images of America mistreating its artists.
Yet he played until the cops arrested him for heroin found in his pad. No one since has played like him.
Pete Seeger. Del hated the new rock and roll. This hybrid of redneck segregationist county and poor black music. But he dug folk because it dealt with issues and today and with the sound of yesterday. Pete would praise the Soviet Union and hate McCarthy and sing the songs of America's struggle- the struggle of labor.
Peter, Paul and Mary. Were they The Monkees of folk? Del actually auditioned to be a member of the group, put together to be a modern take on The Weavers, a famous folk act. Mary was the Village- the hundreds of pretty girls who would argue politics all night and still be creative and knew the past and the present and dreamed of a future when they wouldn't be called an old maid for not getting married before they were 21. Mary and the hundreds of Mary's like her didn't know it, but they were living a dream most American women wouldn't have until years later.
They may have been pre-fabricated, but oddly they are one of the few folks acts that actually lasted. They still record and tour!
Chet Baker. Saint Chet. There was more pain in one note of Chet's music than in most blues. Hear him sing My Funny Valentine and he pulls your heart out by the root and takes it around the corner. He was as stoned as his audience, but he was just trying to hide the pain.
Billie Holiday. She lived three lives in one, and they were all lives you wouldn't want. Heroin may have been the least of her problems. But hear her sing and you heard the experiences of every black woman that had ever lived. They called her Lady Day. But she was the Queen.
Forbidden Planet. Science fiction rocked in the 1950's and no audience was ready for the re-telling of Shakespeare's THE TEMPEST on a different planet but here it was. And it had a sound. The sound of the Theremin, a musical instrument that played air! It was the impossibly beautiful 17 year old Anne Francis and the coolest robot that ever was, Robbie. He could manufacture booze! A film so cool that it's still cool and still holds up.
The Day The Earth Stood Still. Michael Rennie will live forever as will Gort- the second coolest robot that ever was. The squares thought they were going to see a robot rampage movie, imagine their surprise when they got a message pleading for hope and dignity- in a world that had long ago given up both.
Science fiction was everywhere, horror was huge and even b-movies warned us of science and fear out of control.
Even on the radio. Few had TV's but radio held our imagination above all. The audience couldn't see the actors or the story unfold, but they could imagine it. Imagination is the image/nation!
Radio had Dimension X and X Minus 1 and the science fiction writers were the best there was. Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke and many more who would become household names. Radio was also the familiar, decades of Jack Benny and Amos 'n Andy and Burns and Allen because America liked the familiar.
But Del liked the New, and he wanted to find a way to merge the coolness of a Miles solo with the words of a Kerouac- in comedy.
The beat, the beat, the beat........
Posted at 07:34 pm by Psychomike
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Wednesday, October 24, 2007
BALLING* IN THE SIXTIES
First guy: Did you know Baptists have banned having sex standing up?
Second guy: No. Why?
First guy: It's too much like dancing!
My first time having sex was unconventional http://subgeniusslack.blogdrive.com/archive/37.html , but I was a novice and hadn't learned sex, I had studied it. I had read all about it in the books that filled in for adolescent and kids views http://subgeniusslack.blogdrive.com/archive/25.html which as soon as I kissed a girl I realized was all bullshit. Kids and teens, even the ones having sex, were prone to lying. In the magazines I was reading there were stories about everything from the Kama sutra, then I started reading about sex magick, to articles about everything from oral sex to everything but the missionary position.
These articles are all over mainstream magazines, TV talk shows, radio talk shows today. But most of them were illegal in 1960's America.
Charlie Chaplin had found himself in a divorce case because he had asked his wife for oral sex. The asking itself was grounds for divorce. She got the divorce, loads of his money and was to receive a piece of his films whenever they were re-released. That led to him refusing to show his films until she died! He left the country after that, but most writers repeat the story of him leaving over politics. No, he left over our sexual politics.
Sodomy laws were not directed against gays, though they were used against them. They were originally directed against heterosexual couples. Anal and oral sex were both covered, both could be invoked alone or separately as an excuse for divorce. The woman's word was always taken.
How long were these rules on the books? Until 2003! "On June 26, 2003, the United States Supreme Court ruled that state sodomy laws can no longer be enforced against consenting adults acting in private. This affects laws in the remaining thirteen states which had not yet followed the trend of repealing or invalidating such laws at the state level." http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/2269/?200724
Psychiatrists had declared that oral sex was a sign of "latent homosexuality" and had declared it a perversion. That kept guys from complaining loudly about the law. And it was the real reason prostitution and mistresses flourished in the time of the Booze Generation. They were the girls you could ask to do things that if you asked your wife, could cost you everything. Including all your friends thinking you were gay.
In 1972 a book would come out and sell millions of copies and revolutionize sex in America called The Joy Of Sex. But this was years later. I doubt few of the people reading the book had any idea they were actually breaking laws far worse than any pot smoker was. A man in most states could lose their home, their money and even access to his kids if they even showed the book to his wife. Yet straight people decided those laws weren't as much fun as the positions in the book. Positions we hippies had learned from 1965 on and had mastered by the late 60's, from a book called the Kama Sutra.
Porn was nearly impossible to find in the south, but the cops hadn't started busting anyone for looking at statues!
And there were endless possibilities in the statues.
We also had PLAYBOY, which introduced a concept that had never existed in America before. Why rush out and get married? A guy could date, have a cool stereo, his own TV, a bar- why rush? For generations men and women married and had kids knowing the mom might not make it. Childbirth killed many (a nasty side effect to home childbirth). Even after the numbers began to change the reason had become lost and become a tradition. At 18 you either got married if you were a woman, or became an old maid as a school teacher, librarian, secretary, nurse. The pill however had given women something they had never had before. The concept of sex for sexual enjoyment , without guilt or fear of pregnancy, with whomever they wanted had liberated a growing section of younger women. Before hippie girls began experimenting and playing with sex, that only happened with biker girls and prostitutes. Bad girls.
So, like everything else we were doing as hippies, even our acts of sex were illegal!
The reason we would end up around Peachtree and 12th through 14th street was the neighborhood was poor. It wasn't ghetto, but the homeowners who rented asked few questions. Everywhere else in Atlanta no one would rent to people of the opposite sex who weren't married- even if they were just roommates. Many states had laws against co-habitation- so again hippies were openly breaking those laws. Before anyone had ever heard of "living together".
SEX ON ACID
I had met Mona in Piedmont Park and we hit it off in seconds and found ourselves in the woods having sex while The Allman Brothers jammed. I saw them many times, so many I can't add the times up. And had sex while they were playing often. Others may have seen the band more than me (I stopped going after Duane died), but I doubt few had sex as often as I did while they played live!
I guess it says something about those days that we never asked for each others last names!
Having sex to the Allman Brothers made us different in our rhythms than the straights. They had a three minute pop song, Or a three minute Sinatra song. Live, a jam number could go 30, 40 minutes. I also grew to love having sex to classical music and jazz, again because the timing of the song eliminated forever the word "quickie" from my vocabulary. Never liked them, never will. Music was sex. Music was as much of the act as the act. That's how important music became to me. (And probably explains why I became a fan of techno music years later, and was happy to find women who liked sex to one hour mixes! I also became a fan of Opera, and go every season as a subscriber. Haven't had sex there yet, however!).
Because on our radio we could hear The Beatles, Sinatra, Dean Martin, The Rolling Stones, B.B. King, The Four Seasons, The Mamas and the Poppas, The Beach Boys, Otis Redding, James Brown all on the same station, we were exposed to a variety of music that today doesn't exist on a single station today.
Mona asked me to meet her the following night at the Krispy Kreme and I said yes as we walked back to the concert, splitting up.
As I walked the following night to meet her, a fellow passing out free acid approached me and I asked for two. He gave me them and said it was a microdot and I looked at the tiny pills, thanked him and walked on.
I sat at the doughnut shop for about 20 minutes before she entered in hip huggers with shiny buttons up the front, a gypsy top that revealed her waist and no bra- her breasts moving as she walked in. Who cared about time?
She ordered a coffee and two donuts and I told her about the acid. We agreed to take them and did. In those days I could eat onion rings, ice cream, donuts and never gain an ounce!
After about a half hour I started to feel the tingling in my jaw and she had broken into a smile. We both knew it was time to get back to her place. I put on my suede jacket with fringe and we walked out into the night. I was use to it taking about an hour to feel the effects, a half hour was a good sign to me. We walked holding hands as she talked about hoping she could find her place. We laughed and came up to her door, and entered.
She cut on the light and there were the colored beads that hung in rows from the kitchen to the living room, a bean bag chair on the floor , a beat up couch, a stereo, no TV. Candles everywhere. We decided to take a bath together. Or she suggested.
WHAT TALKS LIKE TARZAN, WALKS LIKE JANE AND SMELLS LIKE CHEETAH? A HIPPIE! - DJ Doctor Don Rose, WQXI-AM
Actually the myth of hippies not bathing was exactly that. A myth. Conversations abounded on the latest home made soap at the head shop, everyone was digging Dr. Bronners soap and his wild labels,
but we did something straights didn't do. We were wearing musk and patuille oil before they were. I've never been a fan of patuille oil but in the 70's musk would become a huge hit nationally. We actually loved showering together, taking baths as a way to introduce sensuality to the proceedings. Straights smelled the musk and couldn't figure it out.
She pored the bath and the bubbles became a kaleidoscope of colors and I put a stack of records on the spindle and followed her to the bathroom as she lit candles on the sink.
The lights went off.
Illuminated by candles as The Doors hit the turntable we kissed and I began to undress her. Her shirt fell to the floor and I kissed from her lips, to cheek, to her neck. to her shoulders, to her pert breasts with nipples protruding and a slight turn down to wet her nipples and then blow on each one and then to lick them and kiss them and I could feel her hands undoing my shirt. http://tw.video.yahoo.com/video/play?vid=380174
We mucked about and laughed and got the shirts off and I started unbuttoning her pants. I don't know who invented hip huggers with buttons instead of a zipper but I certainly hope they won the Nobel Peace Prize for it!
As I unsnapped each button it was clear she was wearing no underwear. That got me hard before she even started to take off my pants.
So here we stand naked and the rushes are coming every other second it seems and we dip into the bathtub, which is an old fashioned stand alone tub with claws for feet.
And we bathe each other, play with the bubbles and laugh and have - fun.
We rise from the tub, shower off the bubbles and dry each other all the while laughing and smiling and kissing. Oooooooh Mona.......
We lay naked on her bed and I can smell flowers and the vanilla scent of the candles and this time I go from her breasts right to that spot I had read about in PLAYBOY.
The most neglected spot. The secret spot only lesbians, bikers and hippies knew.
The clit.
I pulled back the hood and began to lick lightly as she moaned and this would go on until her face turned beet red, and I began licking faster and harder. BANG!
She lay there covered in a glistening sweat and rose to show me her oral skills. Because she saw my balls as part of the package, she licked, kissed and sucked on the entire region.
This led to her mounting me for 69.
My face covered in the taste and smell of female we faced each other as I kissed her rubbed my cock around her other lips.
I put my cock in bit by bit while licking her nipples as this began to play on the stereo. Go ahead and play it while you read the rest.
We thrust away, her pelvis meeting mine and our lips locked and pyramids and deserts, jungles and lions appeared when I closed my eyes and she and I touched each other and laughed and held on and I said, "Let's pretend we are lions' and I struck harder and faster and now we were fucking as the ceiling gave way to stars, she said.
We changed positions and I entered her from behind and moved my hand around to play with her clit and bit her on her back and she dug into my legs with her nails and we were lions and the room was a jungle.
We turned to face each other and she kissed my face tasting herself and my sweat and clung on smiling and I removed my cock.
Waited.
Re-entered. Did this several times. She licked my nipples and off we went again.
Building our pyramid.
When I finally came I covered her from her pussy hairs up to her breasts.
And we hadn't peaked yet!
We resolved to wait until the peak started to start having sex again and off she went to grab a bottle of wine.
We had broken many laws this night!
* Balling was the expression for sex. As in, "Wanna ball", or "I like balling that chick".
Posted at 11:49 am by Psychomike
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Sunday, October 28, 2007
When Strippers Had An Act!
THE RETURN OF PATTI'S MOM
I waited for Patti to come back. If a car stopped outside I ran to the window to see if she was there. I had a balcony at 1939 N. Lincoln- a "Juliet" balcony, the kind you can't actually stand in. http://subgeniusslack.blogdrive.com/archive/38.html She had left with her mom, who had re-appeared when learning from the agency that pimped her ( a fake theatrical agency) that she had given up hooking and coke for a really bad guy. Me.
She returned with her mom after several days and what looked like no sleep. Seems her mom had several ounces of coke when she called Patti for a meeting and that was how I ended up with a bag full along with her note.
I knew I would have to get out of my parents place when my mom freaked out that at 12 I was dating girls 6 or 7 years older than me. The clincher came when my dad and I got in a fight over the war. I called LBJ a liar and he socked me on the jaw. I flew over the table, the couch and right into the wall. That was enough. Meeting her mom who laid out the rules for me ( Patti was to return to prostitution because "she wanted to". I searched Patti's face for a response, there was nothing there), only reminded me of my horrible luck with parents.
I had met many evil people in my life, but this woman took the cake.
I knew it was over with Patti and I, I had actually done something decent in my life and now this woman was giving me my marching papers.
I hung in, but was crushed. When her mom left she told me that she was her mom and she had to listen to her. I explained I didn't listen to mine, but it was far too many years late to tell Patti that.
Patti responded the only way she really knew how. We had sex. Patti was beautiful, and she really did love sex.
Afterwards she told me she would be going to a strip club/ hotel called Swingers in Ohio for a couple of weeks. She invited me to see her perform in Chicago at a porno theater. Before the age of video and DVD's, porn theaters were the place to see adult movies.
Elizabeth Taylor had given the city of Chicago the Michael Todd theater for the arts. Mayor Daley, the real Mayor Daley gladly accepted the gift. Then promptly gave it to the mob for $1 a year to show porn. Taylor sued and years later got the city to stop showing porn there. Today it is the Goodman theatre, and shows plays. I like to joke the building is haunted by thousands of sperm that went on the floor!
Patti was a second rung stripper. Her name got on the bill, she had a following and theatres paid her huge money to travel to a city and strip. She had great outfits and was a really great dancer.
I sat in the projection booth with a friend of hers who was completely naked and as Patti got on stage her friend gave me a blowjob, one of the only jobs I had any interest in.
"Barracuda" - Heart
So this ain't the end
I saw you again
Today
I had to turn my heart away
Smile like the sun
Kisses for everyone
And tales
It never fails
You lying so low in the weeds
I bet you gonna ambush me
You'd have me down, down, down, down on my knees
Now wouldn't you?
Barracuda
Back over time
We were all trying
For free
You met the porpoise with me
Uh huh
No right, no wrong
Selling a song
A name
Whisper game
And if the real thing don't do the trick
You better make up something quick
You gonna burn, burn, burn, burn, burn it out to the wick
Ooh, Barracuda
'Sell me, sell you' the porpoise said
Dive down deep now save my head
You
I think you got the blues too
All that night and all the next
Swam without looking back
Made for the western pools
Silly, silly fools
The real thing don't do the trick
You better make up something quick
You gonna burn, burn, burn, burn, burn it out to the wick
Ohh, Barracuda
Ooh, hey
When the song finished the crowd went nuts- and Patti still had most of her clothes on!
Patti was excited to be heading out to Ohio- she was sharing the bill with Marilyn Chambers whose porn film BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR was a huge mainstream hit.
I partied with Patti whenever I could see her, but there was no more talk of PLAYBOY, which before her mom had shown up had already had her in the mag 3 times and were getting ready to do a centerfold with her.
I went out with Skip Williamson the day she left and got blind drunk. I woke up on my couch in pain with no idea how I got home. Gin was my sin then.
A couple of days passed and I came home from the Blues Brothers bar at 5am to find a message on my answering machine. It was Patti. And Marilyn.
Marilyn told me she heard from Patti that I could handle two beautiful women at once.
She wanted me to prove it. Both girls started laughing...
Patti got on the phone and told me that they had bought me a plane ticket and I was to fly out that afternoon for the weekend.
That gave me about 5 or 6 hours to sleep. No jacking off tonight. I was going to be ready!
Posted at 01:41 pm by Psychomike
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Sunday, November 04, 2007
"Bob", Texas, The Church!
KNOCKIN' ON "BOB'S" DOOR
Texas. A very strange state. Not a state in a geographical sense, but a state of mind. A country within a country. More blondes per square inch than any other state in the union. More beauty queen winners than any other state. Acknowledged to have the best cheerleaders in football.
I don't know what's in the water in Texas, but clearly they should bottle and sell it!
How different is Texas? The state song of Texas is about a high yellow. The old term for a racially mixed person. Don't believe me? Here are the original words to THE YELLOW ROSE OF TEXAS:
There's a yellow rose in Texas, that I am going to see,
No other darky [sic] knows her, no darky only me
She cryed [sic] so when I left her it like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her, we nevermore will part.
[Chorus]
She's the sweetest rose of color this darky ever knew,
Her eyes are bright as diamonds,they sparkle like the dew;
You may talk about your Dearest May, and sing of Rosa Lee,
But the Yellow Rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee.
When the Rio Grande is flowing, the starry skies are bright,
She walks along the river in the quite [sic] summer night:
She thinks if I remember, when we parted long ago,
I promised to come back again, and not to leave her so.
[Chorus]
Oh now I'm going to find her, for my heart is full of woe,
And we'll sing the songs togeather [sic], that we sung so long ago
We'll play the bango gaily, and we'll sing the songs of yore,
And the Yellow Rose of Texas shall be mine forevermore.
[Chorus]
That's the State anthem!
People have guns but refrain from shooting up schools. Rednecks watch on the border for illegals slipping in to take jobs they don't want. Good old boys.
How many people know that the people who died in the Alamo, were fighting to create a slave state?
So what happens if you aren't a stunning blonde, gun totin', beer swillin', country music listenin' redneck in Texas?
You sit on your porch and sip your hard liquor, eat moonpies, drink RC Cola and bark at the moon, that's what. With your friends.You listen to FIRESIGN THEATER and make home movies. Because under the stars and the big wide open spaces there is room to blow your mind and put it back together again. To go wanderin' into the desert and find adventure.
As the bottle was passed around Doug Smith hit on an idea. "I want to make a movie. Maybe claymation." Claymation. A pain in the ass frame by fame pre-computer way to make cool films. The choice was that or drink. So he made a movie http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AP3P-ZVv91Q and he enlisted help from his friends. But they all needed cooler names. Groggy from booze these rednecks sitting on a porch and howlin' at the moon would become others. There was Buck Naked and his cowboy hat. Philo Drummond the keeper of the flame. Sterno Keckhaver the opener of the sacred booze bottles. Doug became Ivan Stang. How do you stay hip in Texas? You create your own state of mind. You create, your own state.
In the desert you take the right combination of frop (the Sacred Smoke), 'shrooms (ask your kids), and the Holy Liquid That Kicks Our Ass (booze) you can dismantle the universe and put it back together again. You listen to NICK DANGER and I THINK WE'RE ALL BOZO'S ON THIS BUS http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPrmD2g3KNc and you wait for divine revelation.
You wait, for "Bob".
You get to introduce yourself as Buck Naked to strangers. ("It's ok honey, he's from Texas".)
You stagger from the porch on so many nights trying to remember why you laughed so hard. You listen to preachers on AM radio late at night ranting about the conspiracies that run everything. The Zionist Occupation Government, the UFO cover-ups, cattle mutilations, abductions- to flying saucers. The Illuminati. The Freemasons. Scientology. The vast left/right wing conspiracies. Not only did Lee Harvey Oswald not kill JFK, everyone at the Plaza was armed and firing at him.
The hollow earth, the flat earth, Stonehenge. Redneck preachers with the message. It wasn't enough to believe in God, not when reptile like creatures roamed the Earth- searching for Us against Them. Especially when them was a vast conspiracy aimed at destroying Texas.
By God they can take down New York, but don't mess with Texas.
The peak passes and you start to re-awaken to reality after all that.
But how do you put it all together?
So the good old boys put what's left of their minds that fateful evening together. Why not put together a state of mind that appeals to people who dig hip stuff looked on with confusion by the real them. Those who think playing music, writing, filmmaking, performance isn't really work.
They couldn't be alone. But what could they discover that would bring this new nation together?
Perhaps, this man- http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6787459861634734507&q=%22Bob%22+Dobbs&total=205&start=0&num=10&so=0&type=search&plindex=0
Posted at 09:13 am by Psychomike
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