THE VRR ON AN ACID TRIP IN THE POOR SIDE OF TOWN

“There’s some houchie couchie mojo shit going on here.”—Pete Townshend

Last Saturday I was out at a family get together in a bar having a few drinks and some old fashioned laughter.

“Does anyone remember laughter?”—Robert Plant

The mood changed suddenly when it was discovered that a family member and an ex-family member were about to collide—show up at the same location unknowingly. The one present on her third glass of wine was fine with the collide, but the other might go completely mental. He assured his son on the phone that he would. I was amused. A quick decision had to be made and in a flash we were rushed out of there and on our way to the poor side of town—my nephews house.

The conversation was just getting interesting too. Sitting across from my nephew he was telling me about his new passion—plant life. Suddenly at 35 he’s discovered how cool plants are.

In the rush to get out his girlfriend drove off without him in a car packed with family members. No room for him anyway. I picked him up in Heisenberg with a Vaccine Reaper bumper sticker proudly displayed on the rear bumper. We stopped at a gas station and I bought beer and peanuts. Nobody ate the peanuts.

His house was in Kirkland Washington, my hometown. His directions to his house were looking real familiar. I could have driven it with my eyes closed. His house is right down the street from my dads old house where I grew up as a teenager. His aunt, my wife, knew it well. The poor side of town.

There is no poor side of town in Kirkland Washington anymore. Every home is worth at least one million dollars. Welcome to the rich side of town. I’m surprised they haven’t changed the name to Google.

I was impressed with my nephews growing operations and his passion for plants. His girlfriend thinks he’s gone mental. He wants to quit his job as an engineer and just grow plants. Seems perfectly fine to me.

When the family party started really groovin in a funk, I do what I do and wander off to explore, beer in hand. I came across a new housing development. It wasn’t there when I lived there in 1976. I found a new house that must be owned by an ex-hippie who did a lot of acid in the 60’s. His garage door hinge art gave it away.

The house has a three car garage. One side a double.

The other side a single.

I don’t have any personal acid trip stories, but I bet this owner does.

Johnny Rivers played the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967. I was six. A whole lot of acid going on at that festival. Johnny sang Poor Side of Town. I wonder how it sounds as a 17-year-old teenager with a head full of acid. How does the brain translate the lyrics shoobie, doobie? And what about his pronunciation for the word, “poor.”

The Monterey Pop Festival is considered to be the greatest rock festival in US history. Interestingly bands from two locations who didn’t like each other were being gathered together to play at the festival—LA bands and Bay Area bands. At the time I was living in the Bay Area where the great Janis Joplin was discovered, Richmond California. You won’t find that in any history books either. It comes from my cousin who knew Janis and hung out with her sharing a bottle of Southern Comfort. I sent her a text.

The promoters of the festival were having a problem getting the Bay Area bands to play the festival. They insisted all bands play for FREE. Insisted that the musicians, singers give themselves away for FREE. Sound familiar? I attempted to get our frontline Substack doctors to give their medical information away for free during this hellish war we are all in. Unlike the great Bay Area bands I wasn’t successful. I got a Christian FU Mike. Checking out of the war today at 6:45am.

Welcome to the poor side of town.