Stupid warm in these parts.
On Monday I watered turf, trees, and shrubs. On Tuesday, I enjoyed my first ride since making my Denver pilgrimage, in shorts and short sleeves.
And on Wednesday, it seemed everything was springing to life all at once. Juniper, maple, alder, you name it. Pollen out the wazoo and right up my snout.
“Screw it,” I thought, examining a sodden Kleenex for signs of brain tissue. “I’m taking drugs.”
And lemme tell you, that behind-the-counter Non-Drowsy Claritin-D 12-Hour with the pseudoephedrine frosting will kick the tires, light the fires, and set your eyes out on wires.
During Wednesday’s Geezer Ride, after I spun past a few guys on a short hill, one asked, “Why aren’t you even breathing hard?”
“I’m on drugs,” I replied. I felt like Ol’ Whatsisface ’fessin’ up to Oprah, only without all that annoying money and fame.
Maybe it was spending an afternoon with my old college cuates, but I was reminded of a “Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers” cartoon by Gilbert Shelton.
Freewheelin’ Franklin wants to borrow Phineas’s car to go buy a couple pounds of weed, but he’s sold it and bought a bicycle. So Phineas offers to pedal him out to Country Cowfreak’s place to make the buy.
On the way home they decide to take an illegal shortcut via the freeway, and the law takes an interest. No problem. Says Franklin: “First, I’ll snort a whole buncha cocaine … now,. you steer while I pedal.”
For the punchline, you can read the whole strip here.
Mad Blog Media 
I used to love those over the counter ephedrine pills. Taken responsibly they were fun for a mid morning pick me up. Taken irresponsibly they were looking for a fight. I never tried riding with them in my system but I bet it would’ve been great fun. Stupid meth heads ruined it for everyone.
When I was a kid in Texas antihistamines were part of a healthy breakfast, alongside Pop-Tarts and Minute Maid OJ.
Ever since the dope fiends got hold of them (with the requisite scary boogity-boogity press on the side) they’ve been so reformulated as to be totally useless. I read a news story a while back that said since phenylephrine replaced pseudoephedrine these modern so-called “antihistamines” had become placebos, and I believed it, because they quit working for me and I quit taking them.
But the same story said you can still buy the real thing — not over the counter, but by dropping by the pharmacist’s window and showing some I.D. to prove you’re not Walter White, even if you look like him.
But holy hell, do they ever cost a metric shit-ton. Might be better off buying from Walter and Jesse.
Oh, I remember that strip by heart. Especially the punch line about the cops.
As far as Pseudofed? Funny how in college everyone would get the sniffles right about Finals Week and show up at the campus infirmary looking for those little Pseudofed packets. I recall downing a whole packet one day to stay up and cram. Was not a good thing to do, nor a good outcome. I think my freshman and sophomore years at the U were the inspiration for the character John “Bluto” Blutarsky.
Yeah, Gilbert used that punchline a couple of times, going way back to the Wonder Wart-Hog days. I borrowed it once or twice myself (always giving proper credit and acknowledgement, of course. “Steal from the best,” as the fella says.
When I was a young, low-level weed dealer in Alamosa, and afterward in Greeley, I always had a reliable source for bits of this, that and the other. Those little white pills that kept the truckers’ eyes open wide were a must come finals week, and we’d gobble them like M&Ms.
And of course there was coke, crank, mescaline, psilocybin, and the fabled L-S-Dizzy for recreational purposes. As I noted in one of my journals from the Before-Time, following a major party: “I did some acid, coke, speed, beer, etc. My usual combo.”
Ay, Chihuahua. A couple of us at Jim’s celebration agreed that we were fortunate to be (a) alive and (2) not in prison.
I had a housemate I didn’t particularly like and at times and would call him Tricky Prickears. He never caught on since he was too damn serious to read The Fab Furry Freak Brothers. Became a lawyer he did. I think he did a stint as a prosecutor running down miscreants like me while whistling past anyone who had a good supply of greenbacks. Another housemate left in the middle of the night for South America and left us short for the rent. Took awhile to sell the amp and 12 string Rickenbacher he left behind, and his Sekine bicycle, but it was almost a wash. When Tricky Prickears moved out he was replaced by a dead ringer for Edgar Allan Poe and seriously demented as well. That guy had voices in his head so loud we could hear them too.
“Tricky Prickears,” the blind, deaf cop, was a great Shelton satire. “Little Orphan Amphetamine,” the Freak Bros.’ favorite 14-year-old runaway, was another.
My housemates, once I got out of that goddamn trailer, were pretty much all card-carrying Mombo Clubbers/El Rancho Deluxers. We had our occasional flareups — my dog Jojo did not like Larry, and would sneak upstairs to his room to take a squat now and then — but generally we were a happy hive with a two-track mind (substance abuse and girls).
Larry and Jojo should’ve gotten along famously. They were both perros from Alamosa. But Larry was the son of a cop and Jojo had a rap sheet at the Humane Society.
Gee, I missed all the fun it seems. But, I quit reading after the word water. We are dreadfully short of it down here. Plus, businesses here are feeling the pinch of civil service wallets slapping shut preparing for what’s to come. Disposable income? Not in this town at the moment. This little burg runs on federal military spending, including supporting contractors.
Plenty of fun for everyone, hey? Sandia’s had a couple-three meetings/lectures on The New Whirled Ordure, and it will be interesting to be a fly on the wall when/if the stink hits The Duck! City.
We have three Sandia employees in the cul-de-sac, one retired LANL guy, a retired USPS/disabled Navy vet, a retired city employee, and an active-duty Air Force officer stationed at Kirtland AFB who’s getting transferred to a new base this spring. So we’re sensitive to any hiccups at the lab.
Oh, yeah, and one retired free-range rumormonger on the Socialist Insecurity. Glad I signed up in time to get a little taste of that before it winds up in Elon’s account at the Mars National Bank.
Not to change the subject but there was a really nice interview with Billy Strings by Rick Beato on Youtube yesterday. Dude knows his way around a Martin guitar.