In the religion of politics the politicians think they are God. — Floppotamus
In the politics of religion there is no God — Floppotamus
The first chapter is free but if you would like the other chapters you need to fork out some piassters. . .
Ice – 9
By Floppotamus & Mona
I had just finished formulating my latest strain of sativa on paper and Mona was double checking my math, she was good at math and physics and never let her lack of thumbs hold her back. Mona could have played soccer for the Olympic team but was foiled when a group of goats protested her admittance by chanting “Two legs good, four legs baaad” at the Olympic tryouts. It was never really clear to me if the goats actually objected to Mona’s participation or if they just had escaped Animal Farm and that was the only chant they knew. But because the goats supported gay marriage they had the political clout to intimidate the group that chose the athletes and Mona was ousted from the team. In the end justice had prevailed when, a week later, the goats tour bus was forced off a bridge by a gay couple who had just been married and were in a hurry to get to Disney’s new theme park “Fairyland”. The goats bus had plunged into the river below and as it sank you could hear the goats chanting “Two legs good, oh this is baaad”. There were no survivors and no gay people attended the goat funerals. The gay goat-killing couple, who were staunchly against goats’ rights, thought it was an extremely funny gag and became instant celebrities when three of the five cable news channels ran the story of the event. They became Kardashian popular and landed a reality show on the Bravo channel but it was cancelled after only three episodes. A few months later the couple made the cable news again for filing the first gay divorce. They fought over everything and in the end declared they were against gay marriage, it was too expensive when it didn’t work out. The former couple was left penniless, one of them ended up on skid row selling sex for meth money until they were stabbed in the throat by a dissatisfied customer, no goats attended the funeral. The other one landed a job with Goldman Sachs and lived large until they were arrested for defrauding the National Organization of Women on a orange juice scam, even gays didn‘t have the power to go up against women. While in prison they made national news a final time by marrying everyone on cellblock C in a single ceremony. A couple weeks after the ceremony they died of a massive colon rupture. That didn’t make the news, nobody really cared about criminals or goat justice any longer. Mona never talks about any of that. She lives in the present. She’s cool like that.
There are basically three species of marijuana people prefer to use for recreation and a ton of subspecies known as strains. Mona and I had decided to create our very own strain, mostly because we have the time but also because Mona is such a stoner she burns through my pot like Obooma burns through tax dollars. Pot is expensive stuff and Mona, being a democrat, believes others should pay for the stuff she wants, and because I feel bad for her for missing out on her promising soccer career I usually give in, besides. . She does the math around the house and doesn’t bitch about working with fractions or reading the tape measure. Mona wanted to name the new strain we were going to come up with. It works like that, like discovering a star or new living creature the person who discovers it gets to name it. She thought our new strain should be named “Mona”. I wasn’t surprised by this, Mona liked to name everything Mona. I convinced her that people would be confused by two Mona’s just like the guy who named his strain Girl Scout Cookies, not only was the name confusing not knowing if somebody was talking about pot or actual cookies it was probably the worst name for a strain of pot in the history of strain naming. We had both agreed early on that neither of us ever wanted to smoke pot that made us think about Girl Scouts or their cookies, it just seemed creepy. I wanted a name that people would like saying. Marketing was a big deal and a bad name could ruin a good product. We finally agreed to name our strain “Ice- 9”. Mona really liked the name having recently read Cats Cradle and now claimed Vonnegut as her new favorite author although not recalling anything in the book about cats. Mona is a fan of cats but against cats’ rights, I thought to myself she was probably also against goats rights and gay marriage too but never brought it up in conversation. It seemed mean. I thought Ice-9 was a great name. It would have a niche with people who smoked dope and could actually read but still sounded cool to those that didn’t get the reference. Sounding cool was important.
Talking about smoking pot makes a lot of people uncomfortable. It shouldn’t, many famous people smoked it. Abe Lincoln in a letter to a friend wrote that one of his favorite things to do as President was to sit on the porch and enjoy a pipeful of sweet hemp. Now you know where that four score and twenty years ago stuff came from. Don’t kid yourself, Abe got the good weed. Steve Jobs also smoked pot. But he was an asshole so I’m not sure if that’s and endorsement or not. Frances Crick, the guy who figured out the double helix structure of DNA was a big time toker, so was Carl Sagan. Oliver Sacks, the poet laureate of medicine, and the author of “Awakenings” who is an Oxford graduate and professor of neurology at Columbia Medical Center admits to using pot at way more then a recreational level. He also wrote, “The man who mistook his wife for a hat.” The dudes a character. In the 1850’s pot use was quite fashionable and there were as many as 500 pot shops in New York city alone. The problem came when Mexican immigrants moved into the southwest bringing with them their favorite recreationalthat’s, That, combined with pot use by black musicians in the South, was enough to fire up the Government into taking action against it. By 1906 pot not only could not sit at the back of the bus, it could no longer ride the bus. Today Pot is a schedule 1 drug. Which means according to the Government, Pot 1) Has a high potential for abuse, oddly enough Alcohol, Cheeseburgers, and Tobacco didn’t make the list although people actually die from abusing them. There has never been a reported overdose from pot. 2) Has no currently accepted medical use in treatment in the United States. Anyone who still believes this needs to call me, I have a perpetual motion machine to sell them. . At friend prices. 3) There is a lack of accepted safety for use of the drug or other substance under medical supervision. I’m not sure what that even means when referring to pot and I doubt even the FDA could explain it.
When we first decided to do our own pot strain, Mona and I sat down and made notes of what we would like our strain to feel like. Most of the newer strains are geared more towards medical use these days and do very good job at fighting pain, inducing sleep, and just making people with problems feel better. The species that works best for people with medical conditions is Indica. It just happens to be a bonus that indica plants are smaller and way more dense giving the grower a higher yield per plant in a smaller area. Indica is great for people with medical issues and is very popular among those that like a deep mind and body high and don’t mind being locked down tight to the couch staring at the tv while wondering about things like exactly how to use a chair or what are cheetos really made from. Indica smokers can solve all the problems of the world in one afternoon but become too tired to write anything down so after the ten or twelve hours of super enriched indica sleep they no longer can recall any of the solutions. The Kush Mountain range in Afghanistan is famous for their indica and most likely why America is still over there. It is rumored that Obooma has pounds of it flown in special and he and the joint chiefs of staff do shotgun hits while droning bad guys on the big screen in the war room like it is a video game but way more fun because it’s real. Afghan Kush is also popular among congressmen, judges, and the rich. Middle and lower class smokers however prefer not to buy Kush from the Middle East because they don’t want to fund terror since it‘s their kids that have to fight that shit. They choose instead to buy the Canadian and American Kush hybrids which are, in most cases, a lot better than the Afghan Kush and also provide jobs for hard working people, although a lot of those hard workers are from California, where you can no longer get a toy in your happy meal and saying “Supersize“ in a McDonald’s drive thru is a criminal offense. Indica is great for smoking but only after the sun has gone down, if you have sleeping problems you won’t anymore if you smoke indica. The drug companies wish they could come up with something half as good as indica for sleeping disorders but since they can’t they spend millions lobbying congressmen to keep it from the people who really need it. One of the most famous smokers of indica was Rip Van Winkle. His story can be found in “The Sketchbook Of Geoffrey Crayon”. It’s interesting reading but the part about the bearded bowlers giving Rip liquor was changed. The bowlers actually gave Rip a bowl of indica to smoke. Irving, believing himself to be a moral man, didn’t want to entice children with narcotics so he changed that part to liquor, which according to societies’ warped view of stuff is somehow preferable. Today’s strains of indica hit fast, hit hard, and take no prisoners. It’s some serious weed. While smoking indica I personally penned the short stories “Boo Boo and the Test Pattern” and “The Defective Detective”, which if you haven’t read, you should, I need the money.
Mona and I agreed that we needed to use some indica in our strain but not make it dominant. The THC levels in the better indica strains reach up to 25% and when levels get that high it gives people strange ideas. It is believed that the guys who came up with the idea of listing Bonsai Kittens on the internet got the idea while smoking OG Ghost Train Haze, a strain created by Southwest Alternative Care. That particular strain has a THC level of 25.49%. If you don’t recall the event I’ll quickly give you the short version. Some guys came up with idea of selling baby kittens in glass jars that people could buy for clean pets. You fed your kitten through a tube in the lid. It was of course a hoax but people seeing the ad became enraged and soon the FBI, who at the time was smoking Dr. Grinspoon, a strain developed at Barney’s Farm which carried a THC level of 21.87%, thoroughly believing the ad, carried out several raids on warehouses they thought were housing the kitten torturing band of outlaws. If anyone ever decides to make a movie about it I want to write the screenplay. The people creating these new very potent strains are mostly old stoners who have been growing pot for years. They know their stuff and they know marketing. Their companies carry names like Southwest Alternative Care, Highland Health, DNA Genetics, and Biocare. Mona’s favorite company is called D&M Compassion Center, she’s a big compassion kind of beast. It’s only a matter of time until these companies and companies like these have the clout and the funds to buy enough congressmen to get pot moved to a schedule 2 drug where it can keep company with such drugs as morphine, codeine, and fentanyl, and in all honesty, according to the schedule 2 guidelines, where alcohol belongs.
Lately, Mona and I have been buying our pot from the mob. Living where we do there’s just not that many options for vendors. I knew a guy that bought pot from the cops. He said cop prices are higher and they always lie about the quality. If you bitched about paying for Martian Green Crack Weed but received Missouri Swamp Grass they would come to your house at night and point guns at you, then they would take your best CD’s and leave you with a fat lip. We stay away from the cops, Mona’s lips are fat enough. Buying pot from the mob is way safer than buying it on the street. They are very professional and always deliver the product exactly as described and in a timely fashion. They value their clients and are the only people I know that can move a special request across the country in three days. You want some Blue Widow? Ask on Monday and you will be smoking it by Wednesday night. I’m not a fan of doing business with criminals in most cases that’s why I didn’t go into politics but in this case I‘ll make the exception. Mona doesn’t really care where the pot comes from as long as it wasn’t bought from goats or gay people, besides, Mona says gay people never have good dope, it‘s probably a discrimination thing.
We next needed to do our research. Growing a truly remarkable strain of pot was more then just tossing seeds in the yard and praying for rain. Mona did her research by watching all the old Cheech and Chong movies and smoking twice as much pot as usual. She said research was important and she was certainly going to do her part. I got “The Big Picture Book of Marijuana” for the articles not the pictures, you know like when you get a Playboy. After reading the book it became clear that growing super bud took a lot of expensive lab equipment. Mona had suggested we just get a green loan from the Government by telling them we were working on an alternative energy source but I knew Obooma would want to come over and get pictures of himself walking thru the place like he was personally responsible for any success. That wouldn’t work, if he saw the pot plants he would want them for himself. In the end we decided to cut costs by fabricating a lot of the equipment out of stuff around the house. It’s a misconception that the “War On Drugs” is about drugs, it isn’t. It’s a war on trying to control power by controlling money. The Government doesn’t give shit about fighting drugs, it doesn’t give a shit about its people. It doesn’t have to, it has the two party system. The people are powerless against it. The whole function of the War Against Drugs is to keep the Governments of other countries in charge long enough for us to exploit them. It’s the American way.
We had written our equipment list out in invisible ink. Not because we were fearful of the authorities. But because it was secret agent stuff and added the element of excitement to the project. By this time I had read so many articles on pot strains I was suffering from Repetitive Strain Injury or RSI for short. Mona complained that all the new information she was learning was stretching her mind and causing her pain. She said she needed to smoke even more pot to control her growing mind discomfort. She had all the angles working in her favor, angles were math. We were going to create a strain that was Sativa dominant. Of course that created certain challenges especially if you didn’t live in South America or Africa. Sativa is a tall plant that takes up tons of space and needs more hours of sunlight than the North American sun produces. In Africa, Zulu farmers, who used to be Zulu warriors, are famous for growing pot. There is way more money in farming dope then warrioring. The farmers are even kicking around the idea of building a road through the village and getting their own convenience store. The sativa strains produce a energetic high of euphoric nature. It stimulates thought and is great pot to smoke first thing in the morning when you have loads of stuff to do. When you smoke sativa everything is funny. Rookie smokers should steer clear of the stronger sativa strains. They often become lost in thought in a middle of a conversation and stand around with blank looks on their faces. When this occurs its referred to as spacing, spacing out, or tripping. Smoking sativa should be avoided after the sun sets. Smoking it at night will make it impossible to sleep and you may find yourself sorting all your pots and pans by size at 3 in the morning right after you have finished painting the garage with 2 coats of paint and one color change. Creative people prefer sativa and while smoking sativa Mona invented the suction cup. She was heartbroken when she found out the suction cup had been invented years earlier by some one else who was also smoking sativa so instead she sold T-shirts that said “I’m stoned, don’t talk to me” on them and made enough money to buy the big big box of milk bones which made her feel much better. She refused to sell her shirt to goats or gays which made her even happier. Dog revenge is a scary thing.
The United States recently launched a new “War on Drugs” in South Africa. Of course it’s not really about drugs it’s about something else. My guess is America will open up the land for big business to mine the metals they need for technology. But do it under the guise of fighting drugs. The once mighty Zulu Nation, that is now more like Indians on a reservation in South Dakota but without cars and roads, will become a conquered people! for the second time. But Americans love those smart phones so it’s okay with them, even if actually using the phones makes them sound like they are sitting at the bottom of the ocean. Mona says if you’re not among the rich in America you’re a conquered people. She says profound shit like that sometimes. Mona told me once that the worse thing that can happen to any small peaceful country is that one day they strike oil. Once you strike oil your days are numbered. The free world will find a reason that will allow them to come take it. That’s how it all works. She’s probably right. I still mentally struggle with a country that can land on Mars and invented Velcro but still chooses to run on fossil fuels. How is that even possible? Fucking fossil fuels for petes sake. If you can’t see a problem with that you probably work for Shell oil as a lobbyist. Sativa plants take way more time to grow and produce smaller yields. It’s like the twelve year old scotch of pot. But doesn’t turn you into a moron when you smoke too much. Remember those PSA’s that were on tv that showed a skillet and said “This your brain” then had the eggs frying? Yeah you remember it. Or the one that told us “It’s called dope for a reason”? Those ads were ran by the Government but were funded by Liquor companies. Pharmaceutical companies are even worse. They are the guys that show up at a car accident and try to sell the injured band aids. At scalper prices. Our new strain isn’t going to be about money. It’s going to be about feeling good. We decided our new strain would be free of charge to native Americans. Those people deserve to feel good and booze isn’t really working for them, a second option for them would be nice. To make up for the free Indian pot, we will charge the left triple prices and tell them to blame the right for the high cost. That will make them happy, they like to blame. We won’t sell to the right at all, we don’t like them. We will make an exception for Ron Paul, he can buy some but only if he promises not to share it with Rand. That guy is scary enough without being high.
Everything was finally down on paper, Mona had done a fine job highlighting the genetic maps in different colors being extra careful to color within the lines which is hard for her as she thinks outside the box and has a tendency to scribble. She had proudly hung the maps on the wall in the room that was to become the mad scientist laboratory. We were ready to start building the Frankenstein of pot. This was exciting times and it was a shame Stanley Kubrick wasn’t around to film the Icetravaganza. It would make a fine movie. Jimmy Page could have done a tasty soundtrack that would have given Les Paul a double triple erection that even Leo Fender would want to look at. This was going to be the pot that made Madonna accept God and become a nun. This was the pot that was going to make David Lynch seem normal. This was going to be good stuff. This was going to be the pot Bogart talked about when he said “This is the stuff that dreams are made of.”
A Certain Afternoon
There was a knock at my door, I looked through the peep, it was Tom Snyder. I was thought to myself, isn’t Tom Snyder dead as I answered the door. Tom came in and set down on my sofa. “I’m here to talk to you about your book Future Shock,” he said getting out a pen and paper to take notes. “I didn’t write Future Shock that was Alvin Toffee or Toffler or something,” I said. I was still thinking to myself that Tom Snyder was dead and was wondering if maybe I was dead, too, and this was like a bad episode of the Twilight Zone. The original Twilight Zone, not one of the later ones, I didn’t like those, they were like redoing something really good really bad. But I quickly decided that we were Twilight Zone free, the world was not in black and white. . . . Yet.
I asked Tom if he would like something to drink. “Something cold would be nice,” he said. It was as hot as Virginia Grey in “Target Earth” outside. Global warming was in third gear and I imagined weather like this gave Al Gore an erection as he could just see the money rolling in. Global warming is big business. “How about lemonade aid?” I asked. “I’m from Milwaukee buddy,” he said. “Oh yeah . . Right,”I said, as I headed for the fridge to nab a Pabst Blue Ribbon tall boy.
When I returned to the living room with two tall boys, Tom was gone and Joe Strummer the front man and talent for the Clash was on my couch. “Where’s Tom?” I asked. Joe said, “He said something about the future and going to get coffee with toffee or some shit, it‘s hard to understand Americans, they talk like they have a mouth full of fist. . Those brews for me?” “Sure,” I said handing him both beers, I wasn’t that thirsty anyway. “It’s as hot as rolling joints on the thighs of Cuban women outside,” he said draining his first tall boy in around six seconds, which had to be some kind of American record. I knew the British record was held by John Bonham which was like a second and a half faster, but this guy was in the running.
“So what’s up,” I asked. “I just got this new cannabis, it’s called Alaskan Thunder Fuck . . I thought I’d stop by and get your opinion of it,” he said twisting up a joint that appeared to be perfect. A good joint is a thing of beauty and can only be rolled by a true craftsman. A good joint always burns even and burning even is crucial with the price of quality smokables. This joint would burn clean. Black people can’t roll a good joint to save their lives, wide thumbs I think, they always go the blunt route which screams rookie. “You have refills in the fridge?” he asked. I grabbed the dead soldiers and headed for the fridge for another beer. I was thinking to myself that it would be handy to keep a twelve pack of quarts in the ice box for when I get these unexpected visitors. I grabbed another four tall boys while Joe was sparking up the doob.
Joe took the four PBR’s and passed me the joint. “You will like this” he said. I thought I had purchased Alaskan Thunder Fuck at one time but found out later it was New York City Diesel. This was going to be a treat. I took a hit holding it in my lungs until I started coughing. As I exhaled my eye lids began to feel really heavy. Like they had two acme anvils from the Wyle E. Coyote bag of shit to toss off a cliff to kill the road runner sitting on them. I suddenly realized everything made sense, you just had to think about stuff (<- that line is funnier then even YOU know). This was really, really good pot. I thought about going to the kitchen to get a diet mountain dew but decided I felt too lazy to pack for the trip to get there. If Joe asked for another beer he could get it himself, I wasn’t sure I could find the kitchen, or even, at this point, if I had a kitchen. I wondered about the evolution of the wasp and made a mental note to find out exactly how wasps evolved into flying, stinging assholes with a bad attitude. I was about to ask Joe if hadn’t he died like ten years ago but when I looked up Joe was gone. . . So was the beer. The only thing that was left was a fresh cigarette burn in my sofa. I wasn’t that worried about it, I knew I could get a signed letter from Joe admitting he put the burn in it and sell it for big cash on the eBay.
Feeling thirsty I headed for the fridge before I had time to think about the merits of doing it. Diet Mountain Dew still sounded like too much work so I was mentally opting for Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper. As I walked back to the living room with my soda I was wondering if another hit off that joint might make me less high. It was worth a try. Sometimes shit works like that. . Or maybe not. . I wasn’t sure. As I entered the living room I noticed a woman sitting on my newly burnt sofa. It was Grace Kelly. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I just let myself in,” she said. “You’re always welcome, would you care for some tea?” I offered hoping she wouldn’t want any because it seemed like big work with complications to try to make it. “No thank you,” she said continuing, “I was close by and wanted to stop by to say hi.” “Well that was very thoughtful of you,” I said sparking up the joint and handing it to her. She took an impressive hit off it, held it in, then exhaled slowly. I could see her eyelids getting heavy. “Do you have any chocolate pudding?” she asked. “Yeah but you have to make it,” I replied. “ Oh. . I don’t want it that bad,” she laughed. Chocolate pudding did sound good but she was right, it wasn’t worth the trouble to make.
I handed her the unopened soda, she took it as it was diet and the word cherry on the label made it sound somehow natural and more healthy. I lit the joint and took a hit without really thinking about it. When I next opened my eyes I was in my in my bed and it was the next morning. Had it all been a dream I wondered, It had sure felt real. I slowly got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. As I passed through the living room I noticed a burn hole in the sofa and the living room smelled of lavender. There was a blue ladies scarf on the coffee table. I hadn’t remembered drinking gin yesterday. . . Strange.. . .
“We just pulled one boner out there on the ice” – Thing From Another World