So since I was a purist about materials, I did _not_ make a water-pipe out of a Dr Bronner's container, but given their sizes, shape, and demographic I kind of assumed that there were such all over college towns at the least.
Once, in Berkeley, I got out of a summer's chores at a co-op by 0.) turning two non-working vacuum cleaners into one, working, one, and 1.) cleaning-out a trash room that had been used by vagrants for a month or so to live and shit- and piss-in. For the latter purpose, I used a normal-pressure hose, a copy of Tonio K's "Life in the Food Chain", and about half of a large bottle of the peppermint castile soap.
I remember Tonio K from my college radio days... and I became acquainted with Dr B’s awesome products working at a co-op in Tallahassee. (I will never go back to FL voluntarily but that’s naught to do with Dr B)
TEN MILLION WINDMILLS KILLING BIRDS SPECIAL DANISH DELIGHT USING ONE MILLION TEASPOONS JUICY LEMON PULP! ALL NUN! ALL NUN! O.K.!
(If you know the last 150 or so issues of "Cerebus", you might agree with my comment that David Sim should have gone into the castile soap business to keep his religious/masculinist mania out of his comics.
Well, it's important. Junior's going to need a really big buzz to be simultaneously crazy enough to agree and sharp enough to remember the message. And taxpayers get the bill.
All this talk about medicine flashes me on the 70's, some very bad behaviour with substances as exotic but not as safe as Bornstein's formula and which leaves me with a deep spiritual longing for some nice hashish. (At the Khyber pass border crossing in '76 I was approached by two ne'er-do-well salespeople, one a adolescent of indeterminate age with a small gun for sale and the other, a burly, swarthy pirate in a suit that had been slept in as much as day worn, who peeled back his coat to reveal what looked like a section of car tyre but was in fact a block of hashish that extended from his shoulder to his hip, deeply engraved so that you could see the quality was not just on the surface.) Ah, Afghani hashish; 2500 years of experience in sublimely tasty hedonism.
Not as exotic but in ‘86 I purchased a good sized chunk in a bedroom in Evanston. Came off a brick the size of a pizza box; had a gold stencil of a crossed scimitar and AK47 painted on the surface.
Taco salad is a real thing and it's been around for a fairly long time: A good taco salad requires the crunchy stuff: red peppers, yellow peppers, onions, radishes, jicama, as well as accoutrements like pickled jalapeños or sweet cherry peppers, sliced pimento-stuffed olives, ripe avocado, fresh cilantro, and a few handfuls of tortilla chips. Throw everything into a giant bowl and make the dressing haphazardly: a dollop of sour cream, a big squeeze of lime juice, a shake of cumin and a little salsa.
PUTIN: So, Donald Junior. You had pleasant evening? You like the girls?
JR: Yes, sir, they were great.
PUTIN: Now, to business. You have message for me?
JR: Oh. Yeah. Right. Um... "beef burrito."
PUTIN: What is?
JR: Sorry, sorry. "The whole enchilada."
PUTIN (pause; gravely): Do you understand what you are saying.
JR: Yes! Of course!
PUTIN (sotto): You are telling me to send tactical nuclear weapon against Los Angeles.
JR (pause; shrugs): Okay...
PUTIN (sighs; presses button on desk; to woman entering): Mila, show Mr. Trump Junior back to his hotel. Tell Antonov to tell President Trump that the shipment of barbecue arrived spoiled.
DR BORNSTEIN’S MAGIC MEDICAMENT DON’T DILUTE! DON’T DILUTE! NOT OK!
(Yes we are one of those Dr Bronner households and have been since Carter was prez.)
My mind keeps making Dr Bronner "Bronner Bros" (based in Atlanta): https://bronnerbros.com/
So since I was a purist about materials, I did _not_ make a water-pipe out of a Dr Bronner's container, but given their sizes, shape, and demographic I kind of assumed that there were such all over college towns at the least.
Once, in Berkeley, I got out of a summer's chores at a co-op by 0.) turning two non-working vacuum cleaners into one, working, one, and 1.) cleaning-out a trash room that had been used by vagrants for a month or so to live and shit- and piss-in. For the latter purpose, I used a normal-pressure hose, a copy of Tonio K's "Life in the Food Chain", and about half of a large bottle of the peppermint castile soap.
I remember Tonio K from my college radio days... and I became acquainted with Dr B’s awesome products working at a co-op in Tallahassee. (I will never go back to FL voluntarily but that’s naught to do with Dr B)
Dr. Bronner’s labels and Trump’s tweets: separated at birth?
TEN MILLION WINDMILLS KILLING BIRDS SPECIAL DANISH DELIGHT USING ONE MILLION TEASPOONS JUICY LEMON PULP! ALL NUN! ALL NUN! O.K.!
(If you know the last 150 or so issues of "Cerebus", you might agree with my comment that David Sim should have gone into the castile soap business to keep his religious/masculinist mania out of his comics.
Interesting read: http://www.toonopedia.com/cerebus.htm
Trump??? SHARING??????
Well, it's important. Junior's going to need a really big buzz to be simultaneously crazy enough to agree and sharp enough to remember the message. And taxpayers get the bill.
All this talk about medicine flashes me on the 70's, some very bad behaviour with substances as exotic but not as safe as Bornstein's formula and which leaves me with a deep spiritual longing for some nice hashish. (At the Khyber pass border crossing in '76 I was approached by two ne'er-do-well salespeople, one a adolescent of indeterminate age with a small gun for sale and the other, a burly, swarthy pirate in a suit that had been slept in as much as day worn, who peeled back his coat to reveal what looked like a section of car tyre but was in fact a block of hashish that extended from his shoulder to his hip, deeply engraved so that you could see the quality was not just on the surface.) Ah, Afghani hashish; 2500 years of experience in sublimely tasty hedonism.
Not as exotic but in ‘86 I purchased a good sized chunk in a bedroom in Evanston. Came off a brick the size of a pizza box; had a gold stencil of a crossed scimitar and AK47 painted on the surface.
I'll spend the weekend puzzling over the meaning of "Taco Salad" 'cause Allrecipes.com was no help at all.
Taco salad is a real thing and it's been around for a fairly long time: A good taco salad requires the crunchy stuff: red peppers, yellow peppers, onions, radishes, jicama, as well as accoutrements like pickled jalapeños or sweet cherry peppers, sliced pimento-stuffed olives, ripe avocado, fresh cilantro, and a few handfuls of tortilla chips. Throw everything into a giant bowl and make the dressing haphazardly: a dollop of sour cream, a big squeeze of lime juice, a shake of cumin and a little salsa.
Not sure that what’s Trump was taking about. But sounds good!
Triggered and flashed back to the late 70's and early 80's - party times!! Unfortunately I remember very little of it.
PUTIN: So, Donald Junior. You had pleasant evening? You like the girls?
JR: Yes, sir, they were great.
PUTIN: Now, to business. You have message for me?
JR: Oh. Yeah. Right. Um... "beef burrito."
PUTIN: What is?
JR: Sorry, sorry. "The whole enchilada."
PUTIN (pause; gravely): Do you understand what you are saying.
JR: Yes! Of course!
PUTIN (sotto): You are telling me to send tactical nuclear weapon against Los Angeles.
JR (pause; shrugs): Okay...
PUTIN (sighs; presses button on desk; to woman entering): Mila, show Mr. Trump Junior back to his hotel. Tell Antonov to tell President Trump that the shipment of barbecue arrived spoiled.
That's how the pros do it, folks !