Someone is looking at whatever you do, so always present your most charming you ~ FlyingSnail graphic by C. Spangler ~ Open Flying Snail Views in new tab or window
During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.~ George Orwell

Primus, The Devil Went Down To Georgia via Niamal Peoples

Bob Dylan ~ Talkin’ World War III Blues (Live at the Newport Folk Festival) via Not Dark Yet
NOTA ~ Nobody for President
Nobody always tells the truth & should be President!
Nobody Poster by Gilbert Shelton

Alerts (Sad News) ~ Rusty Gauthier

Rusty Gauthier [Happy Valley String Band] & Kathleen McCarthy [Jumpin' Jupiter]
Rusty singing Toad Suckers (MP3) and August 13, 1975 Happy Valley Full Set (MP3)

Received notice of Rusty Gauthier's passing. Sharing what I know.

On Apr 22, 2024, at 4:08 AM, [elided = a friend from Europe] wrote: Curtis: I was just in touch with Erik and maybe you already heard - not sure, but he told me some very sad news - that Rusty passed away last week. I loved that guy and was very sorry to hear about that. I know he meant a lot to you, too, so my condolences - hang in there!!

Sent note to Erik Moll on 22 Apr 2024, at 16:08 and received the following reply.

On Apr 23, 2024, at 3:33 AM, Moll Erik wrote: Curtis, sad news indeed. Rusty was such a great talent and such a sweet guy. I stayed in touch with him on FaceTime. He had a lung transplant with complications. Was better for a while, then cancer on the head which spread to the lungs. He died peacefully at home in Petaluma, may he rest in peace. Luv Erik

Apr 24, 2024: I am unable to locate an obituary & will post if found. ~@~

Rusty GauthierRusty
Photographs via & by James Stark


Boptime ~ w/Even Steven Leech ~ Saturday Mornings

Even Steven's Boptime

Boptime begins at 6am (EDT) on Saturday April 27th with oldies back to back to back. At 7am (EDT) we present American composer Florence Price’s 4th Symphony. At 8am (EDT) on The Club Baby Grand we mix up some Betty Roché with Duke Ellington and a dash of Clifford Brown, along with other jazz sides. At 9am(EDT) we’ll play some early selections on Wilmington’s UniVerSal Label, the forerunner of the Richie label, followed by some vintage R&B tunes. ~ Steve

BOPTIME: Saturday, 6 AM Eastern, 3 AM Pacific time
Go To:
Click on a listening link below the WVUD logo:
WVUD 91.3
Boptime available locally in Delaware on:
WVUD-FM 91.3
Shoutcast = [Search: WVUD] || TuneIn

Dreamstreets #79 is now available:

Bicycle Day ~ History: My Bicycle & Me, April 19, 1943

April 19, 1943 My Bicycle and Me ~

On 19 April 1943, Hofmann intentionally ingested 250 micrograms of LSD. This day is now known as "Bicycle Day", because he began to feel the effects of the drug as he rode home on a bike. This was the first intentional LSD trip.[11]

Hofmann continued to take small doses of LSD throughout much of his life, and always hoped to find a use for it. In his memoir, he emphasized it as a "sacred drug": "I see the true importance of LSD in the possibility of providing material aid to meditation aimed at the mystical experience of a deeper, comprehensive reality."

420 ~ Elvy Musikka


Elvy Musikka (born August 10, 1939) is an American cannabis rights activist. Musikka is one of four surviving patients enrolled in the Compassionate Investigational New Drug Program, getting marijuana from the federal government.[1][2][3]

Musikka, who uses cannabis to fight glaucoma in her left eye after going blind in her right eye despite having surgery, was arrested for growing marijuana in 1988. At her trial, Musikka's doctor testified and she was acquitted. She applied and was approved to get legal cannabis cigarettes later that year.[4][5]

Musikka was named High Times magazine's 1992 Freedom Fighter of the Year. She resides in Eugene, Oregon, and serves on the board of advisors of Voter Power.[1][3][5] ~ Wikipedia Source

Elvey Mussiki and Amestizo
Elvy Musikka opening Federally grown cannabis bin at [Shaman] Amestizo's ranch.

Boptime ~ w/Even Steven Leech ~ Saturday Mornings

Even Steven's Boptime

Boptime begins at 6am (EDT) on Saturday April 20th with oldies back to back to back. At 7am (EDT) we’ll revisit early music from George Gershwin in The Early Hour. Larry Williams is back with us beginning at 8am (EDT) for our post Radiothon program with what we do best, playing a lot of great jazz and vintage R&B sides. A Big Thank You to those of you who pitched in to help keep WVUD serving the community with great music and commentary. ~ Steve

BOPTIME: Saturday, 6 AM Eastern, 3 AM Pacific time
Go To:
Click on a listening link below the WVUD logo:
WVUD 91.3
Boptime available locally in Delaware on:
WVUD-FM 91.3
Shoutcast = [Search: WVUD] || TuneIn

Dreamstreets #79 is now available:

Remembering Marla Ruzicka

Marla Ruzicka
December 31, 1976 ~ April 16, 2005

Remembering Marla Ruzicka, December 31, 1976 - April 16, 2005
To have a job where you can make things better for people?
That's a blessing. Why would I do anything else?
~ Marla Ruzicka

Marla Ruzicka (December 31, 1976 -- April 16, 2005) was an activist-turned-aid worker. She believed that combatant governments had a legal and moral responsibility to compensate the families of civilians killed or injured in military conflicts. She and her Iraqi translator, Faiz Ali Salim, were killed by a suicide car bombing on Airport Road in Baghdad on April 16, 2005.

In 2003, Ruzicka founded the Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict (CIVIC), an organization that counted civilian casualties and assisted Iraqi victims of the 2003 US invasion of Iraq.

Born in Lakeport, California, Ruzicka attended Long Island University's Friends World Program, and spent four years traveling throughout Costa Rica, Kenya, Cuba, Israel/Palestine, and Zimbabwe. After graduating in 1999, Ruzicka volunteered for the San Francisco-based organizations Rainforest Action Network and Global Exchange. [Click to Continue Reading]

Boptime ~ w/Even Steven Leech ~ Saturday Mornings

Even Steven's Boptime

Boptime begins at 6am (EDT) on Saturday April 13th with oldies back to back to back. It’s our annual Radiothon and we begin at 7am (EDT) with a couple of acid jazz selections from The Re-Birth of the Cool album followed by a rebroadcast of the Morrie Sims Show, when Maurice plays the Blues with guest Paulé. At 8am (EDT) we do things a bit differently when Larry joins us for our 2nd Radiothon 2024 edition. We’ll be playing sets of 3 tunes, which’ll provide a slightly different perspective on the music we spin. Let’s come together to guarantee we’ll be all together for another year of good music, with no commercials. ~ Steve

BOPTIME: Saturday, 6 AM Eastern, 3 AM Pacific time
Go To:
Click on a listening link below the WVUD logo:
WVUD 91.3
Boptime available locally in Delaware on:
WVUD-FM 91.3
Shoutcast = [Search: WVUD] || TuneIn

Dreamstreets #79 is now available:


The Rapture Happened. NOBODY qualified. via mixedelements
Not a single one of us was rapture worthy. via mixedelements and Nobody
We Are Doomed
Just found out April 8 is the day the poison in the COVID vaccines is supposed to
be triggered. via Midnight Writer
;-) We're Doomed!? via BlueVoter at (-;

Open note about AI for Jon Stewart
April 2, 2024 via ~@~ a.k.a. curtis & this

Dearest Jon,

(imo) The problem with AI is mathematical because an actual number one (1) has not been discovered yet and a rounded off version of zero decimal nine (0.9) is being used in its place. This is also true of some algorithms.

AI should have been established by international committee and its first job would have been to discover number one's location, before public release.

(sigh/otoh) Because people kill for no reason and alleged corporate "profits not people" plans, AI could determine humanity is a [deadly] infestation and eliminate it!

thank you for a great show... n'u'n'urs be healthy, safe, n'happy, ~@~

The State of "Israel" does NOT represent World Jewry !!!
A photograph showing Peace Can Be Universal by Bill Perry, VVAW/VFP/IVAW location: Baltimore MD, 1.10.09
Peaceful Hasidic Rabbis protest: Judaism Condemn's Zionist Atrocities in Gaza
Photo: Bill Perry, VVAW/VFP/IVAW, Baltimore MD, January 10, 2009 via Phoenix

A Fractal Pool Can Reflect? by C. Spangler

Gerardo Rosales, Desde la cueva (quarantine music video) via JC MultiMediaDienst

ASIFA-SF, Karl Cohen ~ Association International du Film d'Animation, SF Newsletter

ASIFA-SF Newsletter
ASIFA-SF April 2024 Newsletter [PDF]

Feetlines ~ Is There A CURE Yet?, 202209.06: How about antibody SP1-77 ?

Tainted News:
Tomi Lahren should fight addiction & not step on "used heroin needles" to get high?

Saluting the Heroes of the Coronavirus Pandumbic The Daily Show w/Trevor Noah via Joey deVilla
Is There A CURE Yet? ...asking for a friend.
Buzz photo: C. Spangler

Scientists Discover an Antibody
That Can Take Out All COVID-19 Variants

And they hope to create a new vaccine with it.

by Korin Miller, @ Prevention, September 6, 2022

COVID-19 vaccines have been effective at keeping people from getting severely ill and dying from the virus, but they’ve required different boosters to try to keep on top of all of the coronavirus variants that have popped up. Now, researchers have discovered an antibody that neutralizes all known COVID-19 variants.

The antibody, called SP1-77, is the result of a collaborative effort from researchers at Boston Children’s Hospital and Duke University. Results from mouse studies they’ve conducted were recently published in the journal Science Immunology, and they look promising.

But what does it mean, exactly, to have an antibody that can neutralize all variants of COVID-19, and what kind of impact will this have on vaccines in the future? Here’s what you need to know.

What is SP1-77
[Click for Updated: Current Articles & Source @]

SP1-77 is an antibody developed by researchers that so far can neutralize all forms of SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19. It was created after researchers modified a mouse model that was originally made to search for broadly neutralizing antibodies to HIV, which also mutates. [continue reading @ Prevention]

Alerts ~ Remembering Dr. Richard Alpert a.k.a. Ram Dass & Nobody's Guru

In Memory of Our Very Dear Friend
Dr. Richard Alpert
a.k.a. Ram Dass & Nobody's Guru
April 6, 1931 ~ December 22, 2019
Ram Dass was/is Nobody's Guru

NOBODY'S STALWARTS ~ Curtis Spangler, left, and Ram Dass, right, lay out bumper stickers saying "U.S. out of North America" and other campaign paraphernalia. "Nobody for President" started when Wavy Gravy became disenchanted with presidential politics and decided Nobody should have that much power.

Stories & Letters

Yoga vs. Lysergic

Around 4:30 AM, December 6, 1969, I heard a bunch of noise outside the house, got up, peered out the window, saw a bunch of my friends getting out of a station wagon, and walking up the steps.

I made coffee as everyone settled on the living room floor and the topic of conversation was, 'today's concert at Altamont'.

One of my friends, who is no longer with us, was grinning ear-to-ear and announced he had some of Bear's 4-way wafers, made 'special for us'.

We each decided to take one wafer, figuring we would leave around 10:00 AM for the 'Stones' concert.

After about twenty (20) minutes everybody was 'feeling it', except me, so I took another one just to make sure.

By the time everyone was ready to leave I had eaten fourteen (14) wafers and still wasn't feeling anything, so I told my friends, "This is too weird, I think I'll stay home." and off they went.

Just to complete the end of that story, my friends got lost on the way and ended up on a back road that took them to the rear of the concert, where they parked, crawled under the stage, sat down in front, and saw the 'whole show'. Because of what happened, at that show, I am glad I did not attend.

Meanwhile, back at home I am still going about my daily routine as if nothing happened; all while trying to figure out why I was not affected like my friends. At this point I went to bed to take a nap. This is when something strange happened.

When I closed my eyes, I found myself sitting on the top of a ladder, with my head pressed against the ceiling, in a room with no windows or doors, that was dimly lit. When I opened my eyes, everything was normal; or perceived to be "normal".

The next day, some of the friends who went to Altamont dropped by to tell me their adventure, and I tell them mine, because it was still happening. After they leave, it was suggested I call my old friend Richard to see if he could offer any advice.

Psychedelic Review Issue Number 1 Summer 1963
Psychedelic Review, Issue Number 1 ~ (complete pdf)

I knew Richard before he became Ram Dass and used to hang out with him at his Dad's house on the lake in New Hampshire; so that's where I called him.

His assistant told me he had just returned from India, had been asked to speak at Esalen in California, gave me the number, and told me to call him there.

When I called Esalen, I was told he was giving a lecture out on the lawn and they would give him my message.

About two hours later the phone rings and it is Richard asking me, "What's up?"

I tell him the story and he listens while saying, "Ahhh..." a lot. I also closed my eyes to see if that strange effect is going on, and am still sitting on the top of that ladder.

It takes me about five (5) minutes to explain my story and then he takes over the conversation for the next hour, telling me about his experiences in India.

As he is talking, I start to experience this light beginning to radiate around me and had my eyes open.

When I shut my eyes, the room with no windows or doors had become, for lack of better words, a gold/pink/white luminous cloud; except this time, I am sitting on a ladder in the middle of the cloud, with my head pressed against a ceiling of brilliant white light.

I interrupted Richard and told him what was going on; to which he responded with a very long, smile sounding, "Ahhh...."

The moment he did this, a trapdoor slammed open in the ceiling of light and I looked into what appeared to be infinite time, space, and beyond; something no amount of words will ever describe.

[I did attempt to create a picture]:

DNA Ooops by C. Spangler

In the midst of phenomenal beauty, I saw this chubby old man wearing a blanket float by. As he passed, I noticed he seemed to be holding the earth, similar to the way one would hold an apple by the stem.

He lifted his head and gazed at me. When our eyes met this incredible smile came across his lips and the next thing I knew, I was jettisoned into another place I am not able to describe, other than say it was 'wheel like' and there were some incredible beings the same time, explaining this over the phone, as it is happening.

Richard said to me, "It has obviously happened to you, I'll send you a letter.":

Letter from Ram Dass

Letter Content:



It's obviously happened to you. The seed has been planted. You need not worry too much it will flourish and seek its own way to the light. What follows now is a very slow and gentle opening, a listening, a re-evaluating, re-assessing, a calming of the mind along with the opening of the heart. Be very patient and very calm. We are dealing with eternal time and infinite space. All else is melodrama.

[snipped traveling to the Bay Area and getting together part]

Shanti, (peace)

Ram Dass

Along with the letter there was a booklist and names of some people I was to look up; which led me to Neem Karoli Baba, who explained there were two types of acid, Yoga and Lysergic and here is what I heard.

Neem Karoli Baba

If one takes lysergic acid, finds a quiet, calm, cool place, and meditates, one might expect four (4) to six (6) hours of Darshan and come back down; whereas, when one works on themselves (Yogi Acid) and discovers where to turn on that 'switch', one never needs to come down, ..which began a new quest.

From Bindu To Ojas or what later became known as Be Here Now
Original copy of what became the book known as, "Be Here Now"

Since this is the Internet (smile), here is a handwritten letter from Ram Dass regarding a problem I had about 'running up against psychic walls':

Hand written letter from Ram Dass

Letter Content:


By not acting upon desires one weakens their hold. This ultimately follows non-attachment or desire - all things come to you By calming the mind through meditation you will see that desires are based on a misconception - i.e., mistaking yourself for your body or thoughts. Further meditation shows you that all is impermanent, all is changing and there is no place to stand anywhere. Then we merge and float into the One - where we are always together in Love.


Ram Dass

Becoming Nobody | Official Trailer | 2019 via Passion River Films

Alerts ~ Remembering Paul Krassner, Investigative Satirist

In Memory of Our Very Dear Friend
Paul Krassner
April 9, 1932 ~ July 21, 2019

Paul Krassner
Paul Krassner, San Francisco, 12 Sep. 1987 ~ Photo: Chris W Nelson

Paul Krassner  (April 9, 1932 – July 21, 2019) was an American author, journalist, comedian, and the founder, editor and a frequent contributor to the freethought magazine The Realist, first published in 1958. Krassner became a key figure in the counterculture of the 1960s as a member of Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters and a founding member of the Yippies. He died on July 21, 2019, in Desert Hot Springs, California. [Continue reading at Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia]

A Funny Thing Happened
On the Way to Woodstock

by Paul Krassner
[The Unedited Version]

Prologue :

Newspaper headlines blared the massacre in Beverly Hills of Roman Polanski’s wife, Sharon Tate, their unborn baby and a few unfortunate friends. This was in August 1969, and the orchestrator of those murders, Charles Manson, would not be caught until December. But now I was on my way to the antithesis of that horror. Along with 400,000 others on a countercultural pilgrimage, I was heading for the Woodstock Festival of Music & Love. I was wearing my yellow leather fringe jacket for the first time. In one of the pockets there was a nice little stash of LSD. If you happen to be brand-name conscious, then you’ll want to know that it was Owsley White Lightning, and each tablet contained exactly 300 micrograms of excellent acid.

The CIA originally envisioned using LSD as a means of control, but, without anybody’s permission, millions of young people had already become explorers of their own inner space. Acid was serving as a vehicle for deprogramming themselves from a civilization of sadomasochistic priorities. A mass awakening was in process. There was an evolutionary jump in consciousness. The underground press was flourishing, and when LSD was declared illegal in October 1966, the psychedelic San Francisco Oracle became politicized while the radical Berkeley Barb began to treat the drug subculture as fellow outlaws. Acid was even influencing the stock market. Timothy Leary let me listen in on a phone call from a Wall Street broker who thanked Leary for turning him onto acid because it gave him the courage to sell short.

With LSD, you could actually see music, you could taste ice cream in your toes , and you felt totally at one with Nature, in tune with the Universe. The blossoming counterculture--encompassing sex, drugs and rock’n’roll--was at its core a spiritual revolution, with religions of repression being replaced by disciplines of liberation, where psychotropic drugs became a sacrament, sensuality developed into exquisite forms of personal art, and the way you lived your daily life demonstrated the heartbeat of your politics. There was an epidemic of idealism. Altruism became the highest form of selfishness. You could trust your friends more than the government, and “Make love, not war” became a credo of the antiwar movement. The CIA’s scenario had backfired.

When I first told my mother about taking LSD, she was understandably concerned. “It could lead to marijuana,” she warned.

My mother was right.

wavey line

Abbie Hoffman was a reader of my magazine, The Realist, before we became friends. He tempered his fearlessness with a gift for humor that was sharp and spontaneous. On a particularly tense night on the Lower East Side, we were standing on a street corner when a patrol car containing four police cruised by. These were the same cops from the 9th Precinct that Abbie took great pleasure in defeating at the pool table.

“Hey, fellas,” he shouted, “you goin’ out on a double date?”

In December 1967, Abbie, his wife Anita and I decided to take our first real vacation, in the Florida Keys. We rented a small house on stilts in Ramrod Key. This was the week before Christmas. We bought a small tree and spray painted it with canned snow. Now, we were tripping on LSD as a hurricane reached full force.

“Hey, this is pretty powerful fuckin’ acid,” Abbie laughed.

We watched Lyndon Johnson on a black and white TV set, only LBJ was purple and orange. His huge head was sculpted into Mount Rushmore. “I am not going to be so pudding-headed as to stop our half of the war,” he was saying. And the heads of the other presidents--George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt--were all snickering to themselves and covering their mouths with their hands so they wouldn’t laugh out loud. That was the moment we acknowledged that we’d be going to the Democratic convention next summer to protest the war in Vietnam.

That evening, when the hurricane had subsided, I followed a neighborhood crow down the road, then continued walking to town by myself to use the pay telephone at a gas station. First I called Dick Gregory in Chicago, since it was his city we were planning to invade. He told me that he had decided to run for president, and he wanted to know if I thought Bob Dylan would make a good vice president. “Oh, sure,” I said, “but to tell you the truth, I don’t think Dylan would ever get involved in electoral politics.” Gregory ended up with assassination researcher Mark Lane as his running mate.

Next I called Jerry Rubin in New York to arrange for a meeting when we returned. The conspiracy was beginning. And so it came to pass that, on the afternoon of December 31, several activist friends were gathered at the Hoffmans’ apartment, smoking Columbian marijuana and planning the Chicago action. Our fantasy was to counter the convention of death with a festival of life. While the Democrats would present politicians giving speeches at the convention center, we would present rock bands playing in the park. There would be booths with information about drugs and alternatives to the draft.

We needed a name. What would be appropriate to signify the radicalization of hippies? I came up with yippie . We could be the Yippies! It was perfect--a traditional shout of spontaneous joy which had just the right attitude for a media myth. I worked my way backwards. Yippie could be derived naturally from the initials YIP. Then, for what words could YIP become an appropriate acronym? Youth --this was essentially a movement of young people involved in a generational struggle. International --it was happening all over the globe, from Mexico to France, from Germany to Japan. And Party --in both senses of the word. We would be a party and we would have a party. We would be the Youth International Party, and we would be called the Yippies.

It was simply a catchy label to describe a phenomenon that already existed: an organic coalition of hippie dropouts and political activists. Our culture was our politics. In the process of cross-pollination at civil rights demonstrations and antiwar rallies, we had come to share an awareness that there was a linear connection between putting kids in prison for smoking marijuana in this country and burning them to death with napalm on the other side of the globe. It was the ultimate extension of dehumanization. After we held a press conference, a headline in the Chicago Daily News promised: “Yipes! The Yippies Are Coming!” The myth was already becoming a reality. We opened an office. Yippie chapters were forming on campuses, and Yippies across the country were beginning to find out what to call themselves.

In Chicago that August, Robert Pierson, a supposed biker who had volunteered to act as Jerry’s bodyguard turned out to be a police provocateur. Indiscriminate, sadistic violence by the cops reached a peak during speeches in Grant Park. Eventually, the Chicago Tribune reported that Pierson was “in the group which lowered an American flag.” In Official Detective magazine, Pierson himself wrote: “One thing we were to do was defile the flag. The American flag in the park was taken down, then rehung upside down. After this had been photographed, a group of us, including me, were ordered to pull it down and destroy it, then to run up the black flag of the Viet Cong. I joined in the chants and taunts against the police and provoked them into hitting me with their clubs. They didn’t know who I was, but they did know that I had called them names and struck them with one or more weapons.” And that’s what set off the incident which resulted in what the government-commissioned Walker Report would describe as “a police riot.”

wavey line

One year later, as I wandered around the Woodstock Festival, I was overwhelmed by the realization that this tribal event was in actuality what the Yippies had originally fantasized about for Chicago. No longer did so many of these celebrants have to feel like the only Martians on their block. Now, extended families were developing into an alternative society before your very eyes. I had never before felt such a powerful sense of community.

The soundtrack was live, and the Hog Farm commune provided meals, servicing the largest Bed & Breakfast place in history. Actually, they had been hired to provide security. But to Hog Farm leader Hugh Romney, security meant cream pies and seltzer bottles. He planned to wear a Smokey the Bear costume to warn people about putting out fires. This was not merely a three-day outdoor concert. This was a Martian convention. Or, as Abbie Hoffman called it, Woodstock Nation.

The political contingent was encamped in a huge red-and-white-striped tent christened Movement City. In the afternoon, a mimeograph machine was churning out flyers proclaiming that the outdoor concerts should be free. At night, several festival-goers were busy unscrewing the metal-wire fencing that had been put up during the day. Yippie Roz Payne was among them. She helped take down the No Trespassing sign and changed it into a sign that read Peoples Bulletin Board.

On an afternoon when Abbie, Roz and I took a stroll down Merchants Way, which led to the stage that was still being constructed, they took down the Merchants Way sign and put up a sign that read Ho Chi Minh Trail. Lights had not yet been strung up along the path, and as it got darker, we kept walking and stumbling until we got lost in the woods. After a couple of hours, we saw a light through the trees, realized that we were right back where we started, and we laughed ourselves silly.

Abbie would get serious later on, though, ebbed on by his sense of justice and fueled by the tab of White Lightning that we had each ingested. While The Who were performing, he went up on stage with the intention of informing the audience that John Sinclair, manager of the MC5 and leader of the White Panther Party, was serving ten years in prison for the possession of two joints; that this was really the politics behind the music.

Before Abbie could get his message across, Peter Townshend transformed his guitar into a tennis racket and smashed him on the head with a swift backhand. Townshend had assumed that Abbie was just another crazed fan. When The Who played at Fillmore East the previous week, a plainclothes cop rushed on stage and tried to grab the mike. He intended to warn the audience that there was a fire next door and the theater had to be cleared, but he was able to do so only after Townshend kneed him in the balls. Now he shouted at Abbie, “Get the fuck off my stage!” To the audience: “The next person that walks across the stage is going to get killed.” The audience laughs. “You can laugh, but I mean it!”

I inadvertently ended up with a political mission of my own at Woodstock. For a while, I was hanging around the Press Tent, which later turned into the Hospital For Bad Trips. A reporter from the New York Daily News asked me, “How do you spell braless?” I replied, “Without a hyphen.” He pointed out two men with cameras who were from the Criminal Intelligence Division of the Army. And a free-lance writer who knew someone with a source in the White House told me how the Nixon administration had assigned the Rand Corporation think tank to develop a game plan for suspending the 1972 election in case of disruption. I decided to mention this at every meeting I attended, every interview I did, every campus I spoke at and every radio show that I was a guest on.

A year later, the story was officially denied by Attorney General John Mitchell. He warned that whoever started that rumor ought to be “punished.” I wrote to him and confessed, but he never answered my letter. Actually, investigative journalist Ron Rosenbaum was able to trace the “rumor” back and discovered that I was the fifth level down from the original White House source. I believed it to be true, and even rented a tiny one-room apartment I could escape to when martial law was declared. It had a fireplace so that if the power went off I could cook brown rice.

Although I never used the place myself (a friend and her young son had been evicted, so I was glad to let them stay there), when I stopped to witness the level of my own paranoia, I flashed back to a moment at Woodstock. While meandering around the grounds, I had spotted an old friend, Tom Law, who was leading a group in yoga exercises, and I warned him, “If the government finds out you can get high just from breathing, they’re gonna ban oxygen.”

In February 1969, a group of Yippies were busy rolling several thousand joints and wrapping each one in a flyer wishing the recipient a Happy Valentine’s Day and containing facts about marijuana. More than 200,000 arrests for pot-smoking were made the previous year, and Mayor John Lindsay had just petitioned Governor Nelson Rockefeller to raise the penalty for possession from one year to four.

Those joints were sent to various mailing lists, such as teachers and media people, and to one individual only because he was listed in the phone book as Peter Pot. A local newscaster who displayed one of these joints was visited by a pair of narcotics agents, on camera, while he was still delivering the news. It was a TV first. Incidentally, the contents of all those joints had been paid for by Jimi Hendrix.

My favorite musical moment at the festival was Hendrix’s startling rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” His guitar wailing of our national anthem brought me to tears. It was a wordless version of what I interpreted to mean, “It’s not that we hate America, it’s that we feel the American dream has been betrayed, and we will live our alternative.” On the other hand, my least favorite moment was when I discovered that my new yellow leather fringe jacket was stolen from the Movement City tent.


In 1971, Yippie co-founder Ed Sanders’ book about Charles Manson, The Family , was published. It raised several questions, and I began my own investigation. After having lived behind bars for most of his life, Manson was out on the streets again. He began to explore and exploit the countercultural value system, from Haight-Ashbury to Strawberry Fields. Driving his family around in a school bus painted black, he stopped at the Hog Farm, whose school bus was painted in rainbow colors.

While traveling, the Hog Farmers had found themselves at a fork in the road. Up above them, two sky-writing planes were playing tic-tac-toe, and the Hog Farm decided to go one way if the X’s won and the other way if the O’s won. Now they were back on their land, all standing in a circle, chanting “Om,” which somehow caused the visiting Manson to start choking and gagging, so his family began counter-chanting “Evil.”

It was an archetypal confrontation. Manson even tried to get Romney’s wife in exchange for one of his girls--plus the pink slip to the black bus. It was never made clear, if Romney had accepted this trade, by what means the Manson family would have departed, but that was a moot point. The black bus finally left, mission unaccomplished.

In the course of my research, I met Preston Guillory, a former deputy sheriff at the Malibu Sheriff’s Department, which aided the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department in the original raid of the Spahn Ranch. Guillory had participated in that raid, and I interviewed him at an apartment in San Francisco.

“We had been advised to put anything relating to Manson on a memo submitted to the station, because they were supposedly gathering information for the raid we were going to make,” he said. “Deputies at the station of course started asking, ‘Why aren’t we going to make the raid sooner?’ I mean, Manson’s a parole violator, machine-guns have been heard, we know there’s narcotics and we know there’s booze. He’s living at the Spahn Ranch with a bunch of minor girls in complete violation of his parole. Deputies at the station quite frankly became very annoyed that no action was being taken about Manson. My contention is this--the reason Manson was left on the street was because our department thought that he was going to attack the Black Panthers. We were getting intelligence briefings that Manson was anti-black and he had supposedly killed a Black Panther, the body of which could not be found, and the department thought that he was going to launch an attack on the Black Panthers.”

And so it was that the presence of racism had morphed the Sheriff’s Department into collaborators in a mass murder. Manson was portrayed by the media as a hippie cult leader, and the counterculture became a dangerous enemy. Hitchhikers were shunned. Communes were raided. In the public’s mind, flower children now had poisonous thorns. But Manson was never really a hippie. His real family included con artists, pimps, drug dealers, thieves, muggers, rapists and murderers. He had known only power relationships in an army of control junkies. Manson was America’s Frankenstein monster, a logical product of the prison system--racist, paranoid, violent--even if hippie astrologers thought that his fate had been predetermined because he was a triple Scorpio.

The ‘60s had come to an end, and the quality of co-option was not strained. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” became a slogan for the Bank of America, and later for Total breakfast cereal. More recently, Tampax advertised its tampon as “Something over 30 you can trust. And names changed. Hippies became freaks. Negroes became blacks. Girls became women. Richard Alpert became Baba Ram Dass. Hugh Romney became Wavy Gravy, and his wife, Bonnie Jean, became Jahanarah. Yippie organizer Keith Lampe became Ponderosa Pine. My sister Marge became Thais. San Francisco Oracle editor Allen Cohen became Siddartha and moved to a commune where everybody called him Sid. They thought his name was Sid Arthur.

These days, there seems to be a mass awakening in process, comparable to the evolutionary jump in consciousness that took place during the '60s. It gives me a sense of hope, as well as a sense of continuity, that countercultural values have “infiltrated” mainstream awareness: the peace movement, organic food, animal rights, protecting rainforests, environmental sustainability, growing hemp, anti-pollution, recycling waste, racial equality, feminism, renewable energy, alternative healthcare, diversified spiritual practices.

The seeds that were planted then continue to blossom now. The spirit of Woodstock continues to be celebrated at such annual events as the Rainbow Gathering, Burning Man, Earthdance, the Oregon County Fair, the Starwood Neo-Pagan Festival, Pete Seeger's Clearwater Festival, the Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival, and even such electronic magic as the montage of musicians around the globe playing and singing "Stand By Me" on YouTube.

And, yes, all the psychedelic relics I know have not stopped serving as agents of change. During the past four decades, there has been a linear progression from Jimi Hendrix playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” at Woodstock to Aretha Franklin singing “My Country, ’tis of Thee” at the inauguration of Barack Obama.

wavey line

Some Local Articles by Paul Krassner:


Censorship on NPR

Al Franken for President

Getting High Down Under

Nothing Will Ever Be the Same

Why I'm Optimistic About the Future

Other pages with Paul's Articles on

Paul's Home Page:

Paul Krassner and C. Spangler
Paul Krassner & Curtis Spangler ~ Photo: Dwight Dolliver

[Ed. Note Regarding, "WTF are you doing?": Photographer says to Paul, “I wonder where all the other warriors are today?” (referring to those brave enough to stand up against any form of injustice) and I lift my t-shirt to reveal a Maasai warrior belt (ref. 1ref. 2); not to be confused with marriage belt, which has diamonds.]

Remembering Dennis Banks

In Memory of Dennis Banks
April 12, 1937 ~ October 29, 2017

Dennis Banks (8673602267) (cropped).jpg
Dennis Banks By Neeta Lind - IMG_4247, CC BY 2.0, Link

Dennis Banks (April 12, 1937 – October 29, 2017) was a Native American leader, teacher, lecturer, activist and author, was an Anishinaabe born on Leech Lake Indian Reservation in northern Minnesota. Banks was also known as Nowa Cumig (Naawakamig in the Double Vowel System). His name in the Ojibwe language means "In the Center of the Universe." He was a longtime leader of the American Indian Movement, which he co-founded in 1968 with Native Americans in Minneapolis. [Continue Reading at Wikipedia]

Dennis Banks on the Prayers of Indian People

And as I look around and see people of different races coming to a Unity Fair, I know that some of those prayers are being answered. It's a small start here in San Francisco, but maybe next year there'll be a Unity Fair in Chicago, or one in Denver, or one of the Pine Ridge Reservation. That's the kind of changing that I want to go through. ~ Dennis Banks on the Prayers of Indian People, Unity Fair, San Francisco, California, September, 1976

What They Took Away: Reflections on Native Boarding Schools with Dennis Banks via Ron Douglas

Dennis Banks on Indian Motorcycle
Dennis Banks to Lead 18,000 Mile “Declare War on Diabetes” Motorcycle Run

C. Spangler
Dennis and I worked together. He will sincerely be missed. via Sprung a.k.a. C. Spangler

Let Us Begin... Ees Da Sa Sussaway!

Saturnnite Fever, John Flores, Digital collage, 2023
Sometimes people don't want to hear the truth because
they don't want their illusions destroyed. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Nothing else matters, Metallica ar. Karianne Brouwer violin, Maaike Schoenmaker cello

Throughout America's adventure in free government, our basic purposes have been to keep the peace; to foster progress in human achievement, and to enhance liberty, dignity and integrity among people and among nations. To strive for less would be unworthy of a free and religious people. Any failure traceable to arrogance, or our lack of comprehension or readiness to sacrifice would inflict upon us grievous hurt both at home and abroad. ~ Dwight D. Eisenhower ; last Honorable, Decent, Republican President !

Undone Lullaby, by dj schmolli via Dave

For we are opposed around the world by a monolithic and ruthless conspiracy that relies on covert means for expanding its sphere of influence--on infiltration instead of invasion, on subversion instead of elections, on intimidation instead of free choice, on guerrillas by night instead of armies by day. It is a system which has conscripted vast human and material resources into the building of a tightly knit, highly efficient machine that combines military, diplomatic, intelligence, economic, scientific and political operations. ~ President John F. Kennedy , Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, April 27, 1961, assassinated, November 22, 1963

A Night at the Garden , 1939 via Marshall Curry

Note: MAGA Brown Shirts were slaughtered by their paranoid ,
Malignant Narcissistic leader during Night of the Long Knives .

The Republican Party is now clearly an authoritarian party . It embraces, condones, accepts and promotes political violence, and does not accept electoral defeat. Their glorification of January 6 proves that they're okay with a violent seizure of power. If they can't win elections fairly, they'd rather end democracy. ~ Steven Levitsky , Professor of Political Science, Harvard University

5FDP vs. Billy Idol ~ Rebel Yell Over It,
[ NOT WORK SAFE ], DJ Schmolli via SrvTech

Whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. ~ Declaration of Independence

Doom and Gloom via Rossana Podestá Massa

Reality is not external. Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. Not in the individual mind, which can make mistakes, and in any case soon perishes: only in the mind of the Party, which is collective and immortal. Whatever the Party holds to be the truth, is truth. It is impossible to see reality except by looking through the eyes of the Party. ~ George Orwell

At The Biden Trump 2024 Starting Line by R.J. Matson, CQ Roll Call, Cagle Cartoons
At The Biden Trump 2024 Starting Line
by R.J. Matson, CQ Roll Call, Cagle Cartoons

Esurance ~ Election Insurance via Rene Delgado
NONE of the ABOVE == should be a valid choice on voter ballots!

ASIFA-SF, Karl Cohen ~ Association International du Film d'Animation, SF Newsletter

ASIFA-SF Newsletter
ASIFA-SF March 2024 Newsletter [PDF]

Boptime ~ w/Even Steven Leech ~ Saturday Mornings

Even Steven's Boptime

Boptime begins at 6am (EDT) on Saturday April 6th with oldies back to back to back. It’s our annual Radiothon and we begin at 7am (EDT) with two classics of early 1970s jazz and R&B, John McLaughlin Mahavishnu Orchestra’s “Dance of the Maya,” then George Clinton’s live Funkadelic version of “Maggot Brain.” After that a rebroadcast of the Morrie Sims Show when Maurice brings his recollections of some of Wilmington’s past jazz greats. While Larry Williams and I begin at 8am (EDT) by playing a variety of great jazz, R&B, and even some cubop from 1949, we’ll also be looking to the future of WVUD and Boptime for you, the listener, to helping us to renew our future through your showing and gestures of financial support. ~ Steve

BOPTIME: Saturday, 6 AM Eastern, 3 AM Pacific time
Go To:
Click on a listening link below the WVUD logo:
WVUD 91.3
Boptime available locally in Delaware on:
WVUD-FM 91.3
Shoutcast = [Search: WVUD] || TuneIn

Dreamstreets #79 is now available:

Neckerworld ~ A Computer Vision Game

Neckerworld ~ A Computer Vision Game by hankster a.k.a. Dr. Hank Magnuski
~ A Computer Vision Game , by hankster / Dr. Hank Magnuski


Neckerworld is a computer vision game designed to teach students about human and computer vision systems, object detection and identification, visual field construction, autonomous movement and strategy.

All players and resources in the game are cubes. The cube players are guided solely through autonomous computer vision programs. No human manual control or input is permitted during gameplay.

To successfully play the game requires a competent program to do object detection and identification, playing field knowledge representation and strategic decision making.


The Necker Cube Illusion (first published as a rhomboid in 1832 by Swiss crystallographer Louis Albert Necker ) is a well known example of a perceptual illusion where the orientation of the cube is unstable and easily flips between two states. Serious study and research into why we perceive multiple states leads to a set of questions about the very nature of our vision. [continue: ]

Notes from ~@~

Freedom of expression and freedom of speech aren't really important unless they're heard...It's hard for me to stay silent when I keep hearing that peace is only attainable through war. And there's nothing more scary than watching ignorance in action. So I dedicated this Emmy to all the people who feel compelled to speak out and not afraid to speak to power and won't shut up and refuse to be silenced. Tom Smothers

Carlin Step, DJ Steve Porter & Eli Wilkie via Roland Kardeby

The Great Bell Chant (The End of Suffering) via R Smittenaar

Beautiful Child

One Day, Matisyahu

Unsung Hero via Rattakarn Srithavatchai "Garn"

The Sacred Clowns ~ Heyókȟa

The Heyókȟa symbolize and portray many aspects of the sacred, the Wakȟáŋ. Their satire presents important questions by fooling around. They ask difficult questions, and say things others are too afraid to say. By reading between the lines, the audience is able to think about things not usually thought about, or to look at things in a different way.

Principally, the Heyókȟa functions both as a mirror and a teacher, using extreme behaviors to mirror others, thereby forcing them to examine their own doubts, fears, hatreds, and weaknesses. Heyókȟas also have the power to heal emotional pain; such power comes from the experience of shame--they sing of shameful events in their lives, beg for food, and live as clowns. They provoke laughter in distressing situations of despair and provoke fear and chaos when people feel complacent and overly secure, to keep them from taking themselves too seriously or believing they are more powerful than they are.

In addition, sacred clowns serve an important role in shaping tribal codes. Heyókȟa's don't seem to care about taboos, rules, regulations, social norms, or boundaries. Paradoxically, however, it is by violating these norms and taboos that they help to define the accepted boundaries, rules, and societal guidelines for ethical and moral behavior. This is because they are the only ones who can ask "Why?" about sensitive topics and employ satire to question the specialists and carriers of sacred knowledge or those in positions of power and authority. In doing so, they demonstrate concretely the theories of balance and imbalance. Their role is to penetrate deception, turn over rocks, and create a deeper awareness.

Develop Your Mind, Not Sacred Sites
Develop Your Mind, Not Sacred Sites

O nly after the last tree has been cut down, O n ly after the last river has been poisoned, On l y after the last fish has been caught, Onl y then will you find money cannot be eaten. ~ Cree Prophecy

Nobody for President ~ NONE of the ABOVE should be a choice on VOTER BALLOTS

Curtis Spangler & Wavy Gravy, Nobody for President San Francisco Rally, October 12, 1976 - Photograph: James Stark
Curtis Spangler and Wavy Gravy , Nobody for President, 197610.12 ~ Photo: James Stark

Forget the politicians. The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice. You don't. You have no choice! You have OWNERS! They own you! They own everything. They own all the important land. They own and control the corporations. They've long since bought, and paid for the Senate, the Congress, the state houses, the city halls, they got the judges in their back pockets and they own all the big media companies, so they control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. ! George Carlin

American Dream, George Carlin via Ishtar [ NOT WORK SAFE ], Alternative with text
NOBODY should have that much power !!!

Nobody bakes apple pie better than Mom, is eternal, perfect, has ended war, will love you forever, brought peace to our time, fixed global warming, fed the hungry & destitute, knows, cares, shives a git about you, loves you when you're down & out, and if elected will not lie to, or steal from 'the people'! Nobody also says, why not try love again ?

Message via Mike Pinder

Oh, I hope that I see you again I never even caught your name As you looked through my window pane ~ So I'm writing this message today I'm thinking that you'll have a way Of hearing the notes in my tune ~ Where are you going? Where have you been? I can imagine other worlds you have seen ~ Beautiful faces and music so serene ~ So I do hope I see you again My universal citizen You went as quickly as you came ~ You know the power Your love is right You have good reason To stay out of sight ~~ But break our illusions and help us Be the light. Mike Pinder

Why I Think This World Should End, Prince EA via Prince EA
Without love in the dream, it will never come true. ~ Jerry Garcia / Robert Hunter
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. ~ John Lennon
Artist, John Flores

The man whispered, "God, speak to me" and a meadowlark sang. But the man did not hear. So the man yelled "God, speak to me" and the thunder rolled across the sky. But the man did not listen. The man looked around and said, "God let me see you" and a star shined brightly. But the man did not notice. And the man shouted, "God show me a miracle" and a life was born. But the man did not know. So the man cried out in despair, "Touch me God, and let me know you are there" Whereupon God reached down and touched the man, But the man brushed the butterfly away and walked on.

Somebody is looking at whatever you do, so always present your most charming you
Don't miss out on a blessing because
it isn't packaged the way you expect!

DuckDuckGo ~ The search engine that doesn't track you

Some search sites have been banned from scanning local content since 2012.
Please use or for search.

{ ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ} Did politicians lie about Daylight Saving Time? { ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ}

Archive ~ Links ~ Top of Page