Archive for the ‘drugs’ Category
Invented LSD, wrote computer science textbooks, performed with Skinny Puppy.
Timothy Francis Leary was born October 22, 1920 in Springfield, MA. His childhood and adolescence were wrought with discipline issues, though he eventually went to college and then served in the US Army during World War II, eventually earning a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the University of Alabama during his stint. His Ph.D. came from the University of California at Berkeley. Leary married and had 2 children with his first wife, who offed herself in 1955, making him the coolest single parent in the school system. It also left Leary disillusioned and atheistic.
Leary eventually landed in the faculty of Harvard and studied in great detail the behavioral model known as the Interpersonal Circumplex. (A more complex, updated model that Dr. Tim designed would come to be known as the Leary Circumplex.) It was during his time at Harvard that Leary enshined himself as a hero to the counterculture when he learned about Lysergic Acid Diethylamide–known to most as LSD or “acid” and known to this writer as “yellow-blotter-nightmare-fuel”. His hypothesis was that LSD might help alcoholics in recovery and reform criminals. His studies not only proved the hypothesis, but showed that acid made Grateful Dead concerts infinitely more interesting and caused brown fringe leather jackets to “look groovy”. Leary even stated the profundity of his own acid trips convinced him once and for all that there was a God. The joy of his breakthrough was short-lived, as Harvard booted his hippy ass soon thereafter. Read the rest of this entry »
An End Of The Year Editorial On The State of the American Mind:
Looking At Our Lives
I’m Not A Drunk, You Are
There are too many moments these days where I cannot recognize you.
I appreciated you drunkenly pulling me aside this New Years Eve in the safety of your vomit-spewed bathroom to tell me that I have a drinking problem.
Well sure, I seemed to have been functioning well during the office Christmas party, when in fact I had been in a zombiefied black-out vodka state, and yes I kissed the departing CEO of the company on the lips on a dare, and yes I vomited all over the subway platform on the way home in the early evening…
But I think it’s imperative for you to know that, in this relationship, it is in fact YOU who are the drunk.
I may have gotten us forcibly removed from several watering holes by very large black bouncers, but I want you to note something about my drunkeness and your drunkeness.
I don’t sit at home sobbing to myself, complaining about life, and polishing off two bottles of wine all by myself like you do. Read the rest of this entry »
All of BuckCherry’s songs sound the same, are about the same thing, and the lyrics are retarded. I love them, and so do you. We can’t help it. We love sex, drugs, and hepatitis infested frontmen. But this song, Porno Star, just takes the stupid lyrics prize. Read the rest of this entry »
Wannabe “rock star” Pete Doherty used to merely annoy me with his posturing. His insistence of following the well-worn rock ‘n’ roll chemical highway traveled by Keith Richards, Johnny Thunders and Iggy Pop before him is neither original nor particularly noteworthy. Getting busted, overdosing and getting tossed out of bands for excessive drug abuse is by no measure new in the world of popular music, circa now.
It’s his perogative to fuck up his body and mind and, at least in Britain, it’s given the model/poet/musician/fuckup an assload of publicity courtesy of the insidious red-ink press. However, Doherty crossed a major line recently, and his offense should not be ignored. Read the rest of this entry »