Like a black Bart the General
So, anyone got any idea what that music was? I want it.
|Sean Robinson |
A blog entry from Kathleen Daniels' site (http://www.li-yang.de/) titled, "LSD - The last acid trip I took with my best friend." Not all that crazy, I suppose:
These were the ‘60s, where the free-spirited and rebels took whatever avenues they could to escape. On this beautiful summer day, Judy, in shorts and a T-shirt, stepped from the bathroom and stopped in the kitchen doorway—no makeup and hair, as usual, in a ponytail. Me, the early bird, in a sleeveless oversized T-shirt, stood at the stove frying an egg.
Judy suggested, “Let’s drop some acid.” She sounded like her life was so boring and needed a lift.
I couldn’t remember the last time I tripped on psychedelics, but knew, whatever I did with Judy would be fun. Especially since, other than my job at the five and ten cent store, my life also bordered on monotonous. Neither had a man, and the Maxine-saga put a damper on their spirits, since her and Judy had grown up together, before I dropped on the scene. We figured that the sun flooding through the windows, lighting up the living room, made for the “perfect mind-dazzling journey.” For us minimum wage, laughing Hyenas, this amusement was long overdue.
In the dining room, about noon, we dissolved the sugar cube in a glass of Coke, and drank it, followed by a glass of bourbon. We planned to merrily dance until our legs fell off, and laugh until our ribs strained. I prepared by spinning Smokie Robinson’s “Choosey Begger” over and over nonstop. In passing, I caught a glimpse of fake wrestling on the tube. Muscles vigorously launched each other around the ring. Normally it repulsed me with its superficial blows that never seemed to connect. This day, however, with acid in my blood, wrestling served as a cartoon. In between the loud music and muted television, I stopped by my bedroom to primp, because later that night we planned to travel downtown to the Red Baron bar, on a side street off Hennepin Avenue.
After loosing interest in the clothes thing, I advanced to the bathroom to study my face in the mirror. “Man, look at all these bumps,” I said to myself, seeing pounds of pimples breeding across a disfigured face. Attack! I commenced to popping each and every one. In reality, there were only a few,but no one could have convinced me otherwise.
Wired and glassy-eyed Judy, came and stood in the bathroom doorway. “Maxine said, ‘No matter what,’ she’s gonna ‘win the bet just to get back’ at you.”
“Hey, she better worry about gettin’ from under that pimp, otherwise she ain’t gonna have a dime to do shit. And if something don’t happen around here soon, I’m leavin’.”
“Me too.” These two words, coming from a person with not much creativity or inclination, sounded so pathetic. Causing them to bust up stumbling from the bathroom to the living room with tears wetting their faces. I fell on the sofa. Judy stumbled out the front door and almost fell off the porch.
“Me too,” I mocked, and rolled off the sofa onto the floor. If a person stood in front of this rundown duplex, they couldn’t help but catch the contagious laughing-bug spilling through the cracks and windows. The guys standing across the street outside the pool hall, watched as Judy stumbled out on the porch and grabbed hold of the wooden beam. Leland, one of our running buddeis, called out to her, but she was laughing too hard and never heard them. I was busy rolling around on the living room floor bustin´ a gut at Judy out on the porch. Leland came across the street to the porch, said something to Judy, but she was too busy laughing. When he stepped inside and saw me on the floor, and some of my party clothes on the sofa, asked where we thought we were going since it was after 2:oo a.m. when all the bars closed. Well now, this really broke us up again, cause we had gotten lost in time, thinking it was only 8 p.m.. Leland left shaking his head.
Unfortunately, it does not give us an insight as to why the music is so GODDAMN AWESOME! Seriously, I need to know what this is... I don't often beg, but... please...
If push comes to shove, try getting a screen recorder from ZDSoft or something and ripping the audio from this thing.
Holy shit. The music is what makes this. Holy shit.
I want that music too. I want to play it over and over again until I become as insane as the cartoon.
|Corman's Inferno |
PCP and MS Paint animation go together like peanut butter and chocolate.
|Mayberry Pancakes |
1:50 scared the shit out of me. WHAT IS THAT MUSIC please make it stop
Breaking up with her boyfriend seems to have destroyed her brain. Good thing McDonalds is there to comfort her.
|King of Balls |
Yeesh. Evil stars.
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