B&V Playlist: Happy 4:20 To All!

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*Image from the internet and likely subject to copyright

I must admit, straight away, that I’ve never been a big fan of the hookah. I chose my poison long ago and it’s in the form of a dark and murky fluid, an elixir known as bourbon. However, while I’m not a fan of the hookah, I’ve always been a friend of the hookah. Call me, pot adjacent. I always liked the stoners in high school and enjoyed hanging out with them. They were generally more laid back than most teenagers. They were also typically more intelligent and quite frankly they had a better sense of humor. I can’t count the times those stoners turned me on to great music. It would have taken me years to find Pink Floyd without those guys. Those few attempts to be a groovy, turnt guy, smoking weed, ended in paranoia and fear. However, the Rock Chick is a big fan of 420. After all these years, I find myself again, pot-adjacent. Even her cat’s birthday is 4/20.

I feel like pot is pretty pervasive these days. It wasn’t always that way, or so it seemed. I remember watching the comic, David Steinberg, on Johnny Carson one night when I was a kid. He told a story about his only pot smoking experience without mentioning the words “pot” or “smoking” so fearful was he about being censored. It was a funny story. He was at a party where people were smoking pot so he partook in an attempt to look hip. He was a little paranoid so he jumped in his car to drive home. This was before Uber people, we all drove impaired, sadly. A cop pulls him over and asks Steinberg, “Do you know how fast you were driving?” A stoned Steinberg, gripped with the fear, responded, “I don’t, maybe 80 miles per hour?” The cop, now apparently amused, responded, “No sir, you were going 8.”

I remember David Lee Roth coming on Rockline, the weekly rock and roll interview show that was on back in the day. My roommate and I went up to the top floor of the building we lived in and rigged a home made antenna so we could hear the KC radio station, KY/102 since they didn’t have any rock stations in Manhattan, Kansas. Roth referred to a joint as a “behavior modification device” and smoking pot as “burning local herbs for strictly medicinal purposes.” Those immediately became part of our vernacular. Ah, Roth was cool, once upon a time.

The first time I ever tried to be cool and smoke pot ended in disaster, at least emotionally.  A friend of mine, who I’ll call Nately procured a joint from his big brother. He and another friend of ours, who I’ll call Orr (names changed to protect the guilty) sat on Nately’s back porch and smoked it. We could see a family eating dinner like a Normal Rockwell painting, in the house behind Nately’s which we found hysterical for reasons, well, unclear. Suddenly, in the distance we heard a police siren. We joked that it was coming for us, that the Norman Rockwell family had called the cops. Oh, that was hysterical alright… until the siren got louder and louder and louder. We all reached the same conclusion at the exact same time – Jesus, the cops are coming for us. We all three scrambled in different directions. I remember Orr dove under the deck. I seem to recall punching Nately’s cat, who had snuck up on me, and diving into a bush. At some point I just panicked and ran the two miles to my parents house, where I promptly locked myself in my room and hid under the bed until my stoned friends showed up to retrieve me.

After that I just stuck to beer. Pot left me a mute, catatonic, fearful, drooling moron. But since I hung out with stoners I was always approached with different sales pitches on different types of pot that I should try. Edibles, that’s the answer to your weed anxiety, it’s a different high. My one pot eating experience resulted in me vomiting on the shoes of a sober person and yelling, “Eating pot sucks.” Hash, you’ve got to try hash, it’s a different high. Yes, hash is different, it’s more terrifying. I made the mistake of listening to the Velvet Underground after hash and again, I ended up under my bed, convinced Lou Reed’s voice was the voice of Satan. What you need is indica, that will relax you. Nope. Nowadays people always seem to recommend CBD, which is the non THC component of pot. I have bad news for you folks it’s all the same high. I haven’t touched a hookah in over 25 years. But I will drink and toast those who are getting toasted. Like sexual preference, practice that which makes you happy, just don’t try and convert me.

When I realized today was 4/20, I felt compelled to do something for our herbal enthusiasts out there. There are so many great songs about pot. I was thinking Neil Young’s “Roll Another Number” or Black Sabbath’s “Sweet Leaf.” While I think I could have cobbled something enjoyable for our B&V stoner fans out there, I just felt I was out of my element. We’ve never had a guest contributor here at B&V but I turned to the foremost weed enthusiast I knew, the Rock Chick and asked her to compile some music for this, the National Holiday for Weed Smokers. Below, you will find her list. You can find it on Spotify under BourbonAndVinyl.net 420. Enjoy burning your local herbs for strictly medicinal purposes today and please, don’t get in your car and drive 8 miles an hour some place. And always… don’t bogart that thing, pass it around.

  1. “Legalize It” – Peter Tosh. I do think pot should be legal everywhere, not just a few states. Even if it’s just to allow medical experts to study it for help in PTSD, anxiety and depression.
  2. “Kaya” – Bob Marley. You knew Bob was going to be here and the name of this song, says it all.
  3. “Hits From the Bong” – Cypress Hill. This one, like many of the Rock Chick’s brilliant selections was new to me. This is hysterical.
  4. “Young, Wild And Free” – Snoop Dogg (with others) – Well, like Bob Marley, you knew Snoop would be here.
  5. “One Draw” – Rita Marley. I was glad to hear a little something from Bob’s wife.
  6. “Smoke Two Joints” – Sublime. When one is not enough and three is too many.
  7. “Officer” – Slighty Stoopid. This is a band I might have to do a lot more investigating into.
  8. “Indo Smoke” – Mista Grimm. This song is guaranteed to make even the most hard core pot smoker laugh his ass off.
  9. “Cheeba Cheeba” – Tone-Loc. This is a great song with a wonderful Stevie Wonder sample. To think I thought of Tone as a one hit wonder.
  10. “The Next Episode” – Dr. Dre & Snoop Dogg. Dre and Snoop, together again. It’s money.
  11. “Smoke The Weed” – Snoop Lion, Collie Buddz. “Smoke the weed, not the seeds.” It seems like sound advice, but what do I know?
  12. “I’ve Been High” – Khia. I think we all have. Don’t trust anybody who hasn’t at least tried weed.
  13. “Let’s Go Get Stoned” – Sublime. I think Ray Charles has a song with the same title. I don’t think he’d fit in on this list, though.
  14. “Easy Skanking” – Bob Marley. Today I’ll be “Skanking it slow…”
  15. “Bowl For Two” – The Expendables. A track for all of you romantics. “I packed a bowl for two.” Share a bowl with the one you love?
  16. “Mile High” – The Movement. Having just been in Denver, where the smell of weed is pervasive, this song is perfect. And my beloved whiskey gets a shout out here too. Everybody wins.
  17. “Gin and Juice” – Snoop Dogg (with others) – A story as old as time… your mom is out, you’re  having a party with the ho’s and drinking gin. Your friend shows up with some “bubonic chronic” and “yeah, I’m fucked up now.”
  18. “Fat Spliffs” – Slightly Stoopid. The only way to roll one, I presume.
  19. “Blueberry Yum Yum” – Ludacris, Sleepy Brown. I’ve loved Luda since “One More Drink.”
  20. “Who’s Got the Herb” – 311. I’ve seen these guys in concert and they’re a great band.
  21. “I Got 5 On It” – Luniz, Micheal Marshall. I don’t know where she finds this music, but I’m glad the Rock Chick is out on that wall…
  22. “Smokin’ Love” – Stick Figure, Collie Buddz. This Collie Buddz keeps showing up on songs about weed… Could it be the name?
  23. “Legal Dub” – Sublime. I fear our next cat may be named “Legal Dub.”
  24. “Kush – Main” – Dr Dre and Snoop. Dre and Snoop are like peanut butter and jelly. They just belong together.
  25. “My Medicine” – Snoop Dogg. This is my favorite song on here. It’s Snoop doing a country track that he dedicates to Johnny Cash, a personal hero of mine. This is the funniest track on here.
  26. “This Joint” – Slightly Stoopid. Perhaps if they didn’t smoke so much weed, they’d be slightly smarter?
  27. “Burn By Myself” – The Dirty Heads. Where our hero laments the fact that he has to smoke his pot by himself.
  28. “Because I Got High” – Afroman. Is there a message in this song? I seem to remember my wife and daughter both being fans of this one back in the day… Hmmm.

Sure, there are probably hundreds of 420 play lists out there but none of them have that touch of the Rock Chick’s magic. And I know that stoners probably don’t have the stick-to-it, gung-ho urge to search this stuff out, but before you light that bowl, dial up Spotify and enjoy!

Metaphysical Wisdom: The 1986 Ozzy Concert, The Preacher and the Pot Smoker

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It’s rare that you find any “Universal Wisdom” at an Ozzy Osbourne concert. Somehow, in the 80s, I managed to do so.

It was 1986, right in the heart of the 80s, when a group of friends and I loaded up in the car and drove from Manhattan, Kansas down to Wichita to see the Prince of Darkness, Ozzy Osbourne, in concert at the Kansas Coliseum. We were especially excited to see the Oz-man in Wichita because the arena had “festival seating,” where you show up, line up at the door, and when the doors opened, you sprinted as fast as you can to get a seat near the stage, or better yet, get to the open area in front of the stage. I saw Van Halen in Wichita once and actually stood right in front of the stage, hanging on to it for dear life. God Bless Eddie Van Halen, but as usual, I’m off topic. The opening band for Ozzy was some dark metal band we’d never heard of, Metallica, but that’s another topic. We didn’t fight to get down to the stage but found some nice seats on the lower deck, really close to the stage.

This being the 80s there were a lot of stimulates among the pirate crew I’d journeyed to the concert with. We were drinking a lot of beer that day, which could be said of most of our days at the ol’ University. As the old song goes, “for it’s not for knowledge that we came to college but to drink beer while we’re here…” We had a rule when road tripping, not a very smart one, that you had to have a six pack for each person in the car at all times. (Don’t Drink and Drive kids, it’s a bad idea.) I was with several herbal enthusiasts as well. I’ve always been a fan of dark, murky fluids and was never a smoker but I’d probably list myself as a “pot sympathizer.” You enjoy your vices, I’ll enjoy mine. For some reason we had a bunch of black beauties with us. I was never big into stimulates, but speed was always prevalent at college, especially during finals. If you needed to stay up cramming, rather than drink a pot of coffee, take a black beauty or a “No Doze” and zoom, you’re up. Soon we realized it was fun to take one with beer – one foot on the gas, one foot on the brakes. We were so riled up by the heavy metal and speed, we were on our feet, high-fiving like amateurs and sloshing beer all over. Even before Ozzy came on, the poor high school kids in front of us politely moved off to find safer seats. We were young Vikings on a quest for Heavy Metal Valhalla.

Finally, after playing louder, faster, louder, faster these dour guys calling themselves Metallica (how did we not realize what we were seeing, perhaps it was the beer?), left the stage and after a short intermission to remove Metallica’s white-cross cemetery stage set, a giant Ozzy Ghoul descended from the rafters. The stage prop was designed to look like the cover of his latest album, “Ultimate Sin.” The arms/wings of this Ghoul opened up and sitting on his throne was Ozzy, in all his glory. He leapt out of the chair, launched into “Bark At The Moon,” and didn’t stop moving all night. We went bonkers. I think at one point I may have actually barked in the general direction of the moon…Ah, youth.

Ozzy had had an up and down decade. He’d started his surprisingly successful solo career with the legendary guitarist Randy Rhodes but then Randy was killed in a freak airplane accident. Ozzy had finally recovered and pulled a new band together with Jake E. Lee as his new lead guitarist. Jake was with Ozzy that night and while he was no Randy Rhodes, he held his own. The man could “shred” as the kids say. The song “Shot In the Dark” was our favorite and we went appropriately insane when Ozzy played it. “Never Know Why (We Rock)” was another highlight because let’s face it, Ozzy was right when he sang “they’ll never know why we RAWK!” By the time Ozzy played “Paranoid” as the encore, we were certain we’d reached that Heavy Metal Valhalla we had been seeking.

We slowly began to file out of the Kansas Coliseum to find the car when, in the midst of the exiting metal fans we saw a giant cross. I couldn’t help but wonder what the heck was going on, was this more Ozzy theater? It was then that I heard the Preacher’s voice over the loud speaker, decrying the “Evil” that we had just been a part of. The 80s were a weird decade. Ronald Reagan was President and it was “morning in America.” Out of nowhere Heavy Metal and hard rock came under siege from religious groups. Ozzy and his fellow Metal buddies, Judas Priest had been sued for their dark music being wrongly considered to cause suicides. You had the PMRC, the Parents Musical Resource Committee (or was it Center), led by the uptight Tipper Gore who was attempting to censor rock lyrics. For me this all reached it’s apex when my mother went so far as to warn me that Rush was Satanic, “Ruled Under Satan’s Hand.” Sigh. Ozzy in particular seemed to like to goad these “enemies of rock” as we dubbed them. The Ghoul on the cover of his album and the LP title “The Ultimate Sin” seemed to be aimed right at his religious critics.

Apparently inspired to respond, this Preacher had set up a giant cross in the parking lot and had a bullhorn he was shouting scripture through, along with extended diatribes about why we were all going to Hell for attending an Ozzy show. I never thought nor do I think the music you listen to can condemn you to a life of eternal damnation (unless you listen to Wham) but sure as shit, this guy was telling us it could. My friend SB and I stood at the edge of the crowd that had assembled around this guy, merely for amusement purposes. The guy was really into it, screaming into his bullhorn and foaming at the mouth. Most of the Ozzy fans around him were chuckling and a few had the temerity to make fun of the guy. I was worried the Preacher might stroke out in front of us and we were going to need to clear out of there pretty quickly if that happened. I never liked to hang around when the cops showed up.

It was then that a diminutive kid in the hard rock uniform: jeans, concert t-shirt and flannel shirt over it, came forward to ask a question. “Excuse me, Sir…” The Preacher looked stunned and frankly a little joyful that someone had paid close enough attention to ask him a question. Most of the concert goers were merely walking past him. The intrepid Pot Smoker then posed this metaphysical question to the Preacher, “So, if God created the natural world, and pot grows in nature, doesn’t that mean God put pot here for us to enjoy? I mean, doesn’t that mean God wants us to smoke pot?” My mind was blown. Unfortunately for the Preacher, I think his mind was blown too. He didn’t have an answer. The stunned look on his face betrayed his confusion. He began to sputter and stutter into his microphone…The crowd was hanging on what his response was going to be. After what seemed an eternity, the Pot Smoker turned and walked off toward his car. He was pretty sure, as we all were, that the Preacher couldn’t answer that “Big Question.” When the Pot Smoker walked away, the Preacher suddenly composed himself and muttered unconvincingly, “He doesn’t want an answer, look, he’s walking away…he doesn’t want an answer.” Like the rest of the crowd, I just shook my head and we headed to the car. Game, set and match for the Pot Smoker. As we walked to our car, I could hear the Preacher bellowing through his loudspeaker again and maybe it was my imagination, he seemed to have lost a little of his vim and vigor.

I felt like I’d walked away from that great concert a little smarter about the universe and how it works. While I’m a bourbon man, I certainly don’t think a little pot and a lot of heavy metal is gonna send anybody to Hell or anywhere else. I know I realized that night that you should never allow a judgmental individual or group to influence your behavior or your listening. As long as you’re not hurting anybody I say, go for it.

It’s a dark ride folks. Find someone you love, put on some good music and enjoy yourselves.

Cheers!