The Sandoz Collection by Sandoz Diego Cerveza (best short books to read .TXT) 📖

spinning yards of yeti yarns that morphed into something oh so Canadian...Sasquatch! Native Canadians, the north of the border version of Native Americans like words that begin with "S" as much as non-indigenous Canadians who share the vast lands of the Great White North...Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, and the ultimate Canadian apology word..."Sorry."

Enter....Sasquatch as in Sasquatchewan could be the name of a new province. Remember in a land so vast you always have room for one more...Canada gave us a blue ox named Babe, a feminine named bit of cattle lore that had a hefty set of balls on her, go figure...a Transexual bovine version of Sarah Palin...big balls...small brain...a tea party Tea Bag.

Somehow, somewhere, Sasquatch crossed the border of sanity into the insanity of American folklore and became..Big Foot...we are a simple people..Big Foot will do...Europe gave us the artful game of chess...we turned it into checkers! Must have been the plaid layout of the board that appealed to our simplistic nature. We Americas worship mediocrity and love to dumb things down at any cost and Sasquatch is not immune to our desire to do just that. "Look at the size of that footprint, Ed..man, what do you make of it?" Ed replies dropping his jaw and empty whiskey bottle at the same time..."Why, looks like some sort of big footed monster, Billy Bob..." Yep, they both agree ..."Yep, a goddamn bigfoot is what it is, a goddamn bigfoot..." Whooweeeee...almost dropped my dentures over that 'un. Lets tell the wives over dinner then afterwards go outside and practice for the big weekend "Deliverance" re-enactment festival..."

The mythical monster inhabits uninhibited in the Pacific Left Coast forests, if you buy into the dream of Bigfoot afficianado's everywhere. There is but on bit of celluloid "proof" and I use that term loosely that purportedly has a sauntering bugger of beast hightailing it away from a mere mortal human...now, it's been my experience and others, that a behemoth as large as a grizzly bear or a cougar or an ape..would run from us...in fact...we would be considered fair "game" for the game to devour.

Bigfoot..part gorilla, along with other parts unknown would have feasted heartily on any Oregonion or Washingtonian that happened to cross his carnivorous path. The other puzzling aspect of Bigfoot sightings is the high incidence of Redneck to Bigfoot that exists. Recently in the Carolina's a man reported a sighting and even called 911..it made all the news and don't know how you missed it. Here's a guy who lives in the woods alone, probably drinking shine for breakfast, owns a small arsenal of backwoods weaponry, claims Bigfoot was attacking his dog and yet not one shot was fired off..not even a warning shot over the head, the type you fire over the heads of Christmas carolers when they come a caroling, tra, la, tra, la, tra, la.

In a subsequent interview he (affect drawl here and put yourself in a hillbilly frame of mind)..."I seed him over thar and I rough talked him!" Rough Talked Him? What the fuck is that all about...the rough talk by the way consisted of him yelling.."Git...Git..Git" and of course the creature done got as he must have feared for his life at the sight of an overweight, overly plaid dressed Ted Kascinsky comes "rough talkin'" him. This is the reason people should not live alone in the woods removed from society. If this guy were ever in jail, I can see him "rough talkin" old Bubba in the bottom bunk..Now..who's your daddy?

Is it a carnivore though? A herbivore...omnivore...or none of the above and just a hallucinatory outbreak by the uneducated who want 15 minutes of Warholion fame even if they don't have a clue who Warhol is? They search for the beast but never was a skeleton found or other ghastly remains...droppings...c'mon you can follow a rabbit trail on their tiny offerings of waste...Bigfoot? Man that shit has to be as big as the Rock of Gibraltor! Bigfoots always travel solo...no primate mates in evidence...no little Son of Bigfoots found romping gaily through the trees...Footprints but no rubbings on trees or rocks that have left a hair or two or piece of skin to extract DNA from...certainly a meticulously clean machine. No droppings, no rubbings, and no photos.

With technology today and the clarity of optics not one decent photo has been taken and the strangest part of this whole mystery...everyone who goes in search of Bigfoot..never takes a camera along nor a gun to fell the giant...if I'm in the deep forest purposely looking for something that by rights can rip me to tinier shreds thant he Nixon tapes...I'm gonna be armed...and dangerous, scared shitless too, but armed at least. Today we snap photos of the most innocuous things on our cell phones...yet, somehow no can remember to bring their camera along when searching for Bigfoot..remember King Kong and the search for the mythical beast on skull island? A whole fucking film crew, gas bombs and guns...Sasquatch gear? A pint of whiskey and a very redneck.

One of the other fascinating aspects of this mythical monster is it's supposed role in historic events and is the only explanation that conspiracy theorists can profer. Take the Kennedy Assasination..rumor has it that a large hairy ape-like creature was spotted on the Grassy Knoll. Probably a dark, swarthy Italian made mob guy...real greaseball kind of stuff, but new information has come to the surface over the decades of investigation. Now, the Zapruder film missed this missing link of the puzzle but does explain why Jackie Kennedy was trying to hot foot it out of the limo...Bigfoot scared the privileged pants off of her and her mind kept replaying scenes from King Kong where Faye Ray was palmed and pampered and became the surrogate wife of Kong in his cave. Besides the name Jacqueline Bouvier Bigfoot just didnt have the same panache and resonance of Bouvier Kennedy or Onassis or the hip hop version, Jackie -O!

Bigfoot has also been implicated in the Hoffa disappearance. Posing as a trade unionist, Big Foot managed to infiltrate the Teamsters Union and get up close and personal with James Riddle Hoffa. Seems Jimmy got out of prison and immediately got off on the wrong foot of the mob, and Bigfoot was called in to "do the deed"...Hoffa went to lunch, never ate desert and today is buried in the rainforest of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State and not the Meadowlands of New Joisey as has been wrongly surmised over the years. The plot thickens as now they have Big Foot sightings on Belle Isle, the island park in the middle of the Detroit River that is more akin to a dark back alley for pimps and junkies in the summer, and has never been mistaken for a tranquil rainforest with Enya music coming from every limb, ad nauseaum. There is also supposedly a large bronze fist of Joe Louis, tons of heavy metal fist posed and poised to strike Windsor, Ontario at any minute. Some Canadians have claimed that the fist of Joe Louis bears a striking resemblance to the fist of Sasquatch whose progeny south of the Canadian Border have become the clan of Big Foot, eh?

There are no doubt Bigfoot female impersonators..Carol Doda for example was one but those weren't big feet she was sporting, but they were the stuff of pure urban legend. Recently a Russian spy ring with one hot red Anna was caught red-handed, turns out she was reporting to a Siberian Big Foot named Uri who used to be KGB. There are also innuendo from the northwest again, that Al Gore fondled and attacked a Big Foot Masseuse who accuses him of being a crazed sex poodle...I can more readily accept a mythical Sasquatch than I can a "crazed sex poodle" or Al Gore even being remotely sexually interesting to anyone.

Anyway you look at it...Big Foot is here to stay in one form or another. Myth, reality or just something to "rough talk" when it charges at you like a crazed sex poodle or any politician. Good God, run...It's Al Gore!

Cheech & Chong: Grassy Bowl Conspiracy

Sex...Drugs...Rock n' Roll!

The left over baggy of the seeds and stems of Haight Ashbury's purple haze daze, and the tie-dyed Summer of Love have long since gone up in smoke. It was a dimebag time of rolling papers, roach clips, and badda-bing, badda-bong pipes. Tim Leary, the High Priest of The United Psychedelic States of America, told us it was hightime to turn on, tune in and drop out. If you had some spare time, along with your spare change, you could also Kick Out The Jams, Brothers and Sisters! Pot, protest and politics, combined to create a strange menage a' trois of bedfellows, and the cast of cannabis characters is the stuff of killer weed legend.

Hemp, Hemp, Hooray!


Marijuana, mayhem and the movies were a magical mixture created in the soul kitchen of Hollyweed that manufactured recipes for some classic celluloid cannabis cinema. The semi-fabulous freak brothers, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper in "Easy Rider" took us for a gas and grass two-wheeled shotgun roadtrip through the deep fried, deep south world of southern fried brutality and hospitality. It became the counter cultures roadmap through Mainstream America where the asphalt highways and byways were laced with acid, weed, necks of red and loads of buckshot.

In the film "Alice B. Toklas", Alice wasn't just the Baroness of Brownies of her day, but a hemp happy Martha Stewart. "The Magic Christian" with Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr, had one of the characters, Lawrence Faggot (Fah-go!) tossing "damn hemp cigarettes" aside in disgust! The teen-angel badass, bad-angst full throttle afterburner of the Fab Fifties, gave us a full kilo of delightfully delirious and slightly deranged delinquent doper dramas. Hot Rods, hot chicks and marijuana sticks collided in a tangled wreck of highspeed and high weed.


All of these films owe their potency to a 1930's pot "high" camp classic silver screen smoke dream marijuana machine called "Reefer Madness". This is the proposterously hilariaous propaganda classic that dared tell the pulp fiction truth. and nothing but the truth about...Marijuana! The Killer Drug!! Marijuana! The Assassin of Youth! One puff leads to murder, rape, insanity and a one way straight jacketed ticket to ride to the looney bin aboard the Lobotomy Express! This film is the good golly Miss Molly great ganja grandaddy of them all. Released in the mid-1930's as a church film decrying the inherently evil properties of the killer weed and it's dilaterious effects on all decent citizenry of the Republic. It was originally released with the title "Tell Your Children". After a brief run it was purchased by Dwain Esper, a maestro of the exploitation genre,, who took his meat cleaver and hacked out scenes with the skill of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, inserted new ones, added graphic violence and sex, a brilliant, overacted touch of insanity and a demented piano player and voila! The refeer recipe for success and madness!

After it's uninhibited run in the Prohibition Thirties (the social experiment that gave rise to Organized Crime!) it ended up in storage and forgotten until 1971, when Kieth Stroup, founer of NORML bought a public domain copy for under 300 bucks. The print was cleaned up, the film re-released primarily to college campus audiences, and it became an instant hit. A cannabis midnight cowboy movie to be savored by stoned audiences who cheered wildly at every scene tossing sobriety out the theater doors!

Marijuana is still with us, and so is the prodigal cinematic child of pot parentage, "Reefer Madness". The original film is still available in it's original black and white incarnate form, as well as a