Weed for Votes in San Jose, but don't tell Maureen Dowd

On Tuesday in San Jose, California, local marijuana dispensaries gave away weed to anyone who voted in the primary and brought in their "I voted" sticker to prove it:

San Jose voters who brought their “I Voted” sticker – along with their medical marijuana ID card -- to about a dozen participating dispensaries received free or discounted weed on Tuesday, primary Election Day.

Amsterdam's Garden, a San Jose medicinal marijuana dispensary, was busier than most polling places on Tuesday. It’s not a voting precinct, but if you already voted and were a member, you got a reward: a free, pre-rolled marijuana cigarette.

[...]Juan Lopez got his, a little extra product to say “thanks for voting.”

"It's definitely a good idea to get people to vote,” Lopez said, sticking the joint behind his ear. “Offers like this don't happen all the time.”

No doubt Lopez is correct. But, if the so-called “weed for votes” plan works, expect to see it on future election days.

California Medical Marijuana Association Vice President Xak Puckett said says the incentive idea was part brainstorm, part social media campaign.

The San Jose City Council is considering a proposed ordinance to closely oversee medicinal marijuana collectives and cultivation in a city with 78 collectives operating illegally.

The unlawful pot businesses continue to exist since the repeal of a law governing them in 2012. The city did not have enough funds for enforcement to close them down, Mayor Chuck Reed's spokeswoman Michelle McGurk said.

The Silicon Valley Cannabis Coalition posted a list of their recommendations for candidates in San Jose who they believe "will take a reasonable approach to regulating cannabis clubs," founder of the All American Cannabis Club and SVCC member Dave Hodges said in a statement.

A list of clubs participating in the "Weed for Votes" program was posted on SVCannabis.org.

And here I am, in the most conservative county in the USA. (sigh)

If this "weed-for-votes" scheme was at all possible here in South Carolina, I know several people who would have been elected to the Senate by now.

Since that obviously isn't going to happen for awhile, please enjoy the story of Henry, a man who similarly tried to bring happiness to the people.

~*~

Instantly recognizable by the catchy refrain, rolling down the mountain going fast fast fast, this song has also been covered by the Grateful Dead and numerous other jam bands. (It was years before I learned the title was "Henry.")

Delightful steel guitar by Jerry Garcia.

Henry - New Riders of the Purple Sage



~*~

For you young folks who missed that wonderful movie classic REEFER MADNESS (1936) , you can get a modern update from the New York Times' Maureen Dowd, who ate PART (!) of a pot-candy-bar in Colorado and flipped out.

Yes, that's the story, and she's sticking to it.

At least one of my friends believes her column is alarmist, invented bullshit, but I've often heard tales of certain neurotic newbies who were "wound too tight" and their paranoid first-experience with marijuana. (This describes uptight, prim Maureen to a T.) However, her purple prose is amazing, which is why I thought of New Riders of the Purple Sage.

And then, the Guardian got in on the act and Paul Krugman linked it. Maureen is now the subject of much mirth on Twitter and beyond.

Rolling down the mountain going fast fast fast...

Monday Music - Grateful Dead, Johnny Cash

Music history lesson: You will notice that the traditional "Little Sadie" shares some of the same lines from Johnny Cash's "Cocaine Blues"... the first song is ominous and haunting; the second song more whimsical and defiant.

Both versions are great.

Warnings for woman-killing, drugs, etc.

~*~

Little Sadie - Grateful Dead (acoustic, live in Austin, TX 2/23/70)



~*~

Cocaine Blues - Johnny Cash

Eyes of the World

Eyes of the World - Grateful Dead (studio version)



According to the invaluable ANNOTATED GRATEFUL DEAD (linked above), by way of Deadhead Scott Robertson:

"You are the eyes of the world" is a translation of the noted Buddhist practitioner Longchenpa's practical guide to the tantra (The Jewel Ship: A Guide to the Meaning of Pure and Total Presence, the Creative Energy of the Universe, byang chub kyi sems kun byed rgyal po'i don khrid din chen sgru bo). It was translated by Kennard Lipman and Merrill Peterson and published by Lotsawa of Novato, CA. I believe the change in name occurred after the last publication date of 1987. The song itself obviously held importance for the folks involved in its production for part of [Robert] Hunter's lyrics are printed opposite the title page. After reading the text the relationship becomes very clear since it instructs the reader how to experience pure presence. How many times at a show did I feel that...

I chose the studio version for the multiple sweet, sublime guitar solos. Just like a mountain breeze.

Tuesday Tunes

Bad Sneakers - Steely Dan



~*~

It's a long instrumental, but its real purty, too. ("Richard Betts pickin on that red guitar!") Relax, breathe, and visualize yourself right next to a waterfall.

It won't be hard to imagine at all.

High Falls - Allman Brothers Band



~*~

I've heard this one a lot on this blog's namesake, the indispensable Uncle Dave's Dead Air. GREAT STUFF!

Ride Mighty High - Jerry Garcia Band

He blacked my eye and he kicked my dog

The late Levon Helm performing the Grateful Dead's TENNESSEE JED... it's got trumpets! It's a carnival!

You know you bound to wind up dead...

TENNESSEE JED - Levon Helm (from "Electric Dirt")



Off to Atlanta (not Tennessee) for a long weekend, see you all when I get back... hopefully I'll return in time for Occupy Greenville General Assembly on Sunday (3pm) at the indispensable Coffee Underground. We will be discussing the upcoming film series, so be there or be square!

I woke up a-feeling mean
Went down to play the slot machine
The wheels turned round and the letters read
Better head back to Tennessee, Jed

Thursday music for your listening pleasure

Buddy Guy with David Myers (on bass) from the movie Chicago Blues (1970) --which I can not seem to locate, after much effort. Great 70s Chicago visuals!

Buddy Guy - First Time I Met The Blues



~*~

I know I've shared this one before. Time for a reprise!

Cream - Born Under A Bad Sign



~*~

Grateful Dead - Cassidy (Unplugged- Live) - 09/24/94 - Berkeley Benefit



One YouTube comment says this was actually a "Phil Lesh and friends" performance that included Bob, Jerry and Vince Welnick.

Wave that flag

US Blues - Grateful Dead (studio version)



Summertime
done come and gone
My oh my...

That's right, the women are smarter

Man Smart, Woman Smarter - Grateful Dead (Live 1985)



Music starts at about 1:25.

Take me back to the place where I first saw the light

Since the dreaded Super Bowl is over, its time to get your political seriousness back on!

For the record, I have never seen so many Tweets over somebody giving the middle-finger on live TV; there were probably more Tweets about that than about the entire war in Afghanistan.

~*~

I once told the story on this blog (or touched on it briefly), of the time I was shaken very hard by a bigshot leftist.

If you are up-to-date on your true-crime scandals, you have likely heard of the death of Yeardley Love, University of Virginia lacrosse player, who was shaken so hard by her ex-boyfriend/defendant, that her head hit the wall. (First-degree murder?) The trial of the accused, George Huguely, starts today.

As the young feminists say, this story has triggered and upset me, as I consider the fact that the only unpleasant repercussions I had from my shaking episode was a terrible headache, neck and shoulder pain. It could have been far worse, I realize now.

And what were the repercussions for the important lefty honcho who shook me in front of 5 witnesses? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. I now realize I could have had him arrested for assault, but who thought of such things in those days? Cops were widely regarded as "the enemy". It would never have occurred to me, and so it didn't.

The fact that men "shake" women, as you would discipline a naughty child, is something that has greatly bothered me ever since. It's one of those things that simply doesn't happen in reverse: women do not "shake some sense" into grown men, or at least, I never heard of anyone doing that, never read about it, never seen it in movies or on television. As I increase my participation on various blogs that deal with men's gender issues, I am highly skeptical when they tell us men are raped and harmed by women, just as often as women are raped and harmed by men (some even claim MORE often). Although I am sympathetic to the male dilemma (as I have tagged it), we just don't hear about male lacrosse players shaken so hard by their girlfriends, that their heads hit the wall and they die. (Such a story almost sounds laughable, doesn't it?)

And how exactly would one prove that a male was raped by a female, unless some object was used? Vaginal bruising and tearing are one form of evidence for rape of women, but is there an equivalent for males?

I am open-minded enough to listen, but I remain skeptical that gender-violence goes both ways as often as the Men's Rights contingent insists that it does.

Where are the dead male lacrosse players?

Further, I think many women could tell a story similar to mine--random violence (or threats of violence) from men (not necessarily domestic violence).

Can most men tell similar stories about women?

I don't know any who can.

~*~

Chris Hedges, whom I usually respect, has written a rather hysterical piece titled, THE CANCER OF OCCUPY. (Cancer? Really? Somebody has not read Illness as Metaphor by Susan Sontag, and has not learned of the inappropriateness of the term.) Hedges' piece reads exactly the way so many alarmist anti-war movement screeds once did, back in the day--particularly concerning the Yippies: THE ANARCHISTS ARE INVADING, AIYEEEEE!

First, like the poor, the anarchists we always have with us. Deal.

Second, the Malcolm X/Martin Luther King dichotomy stands. The radicals make the liberals look reasonable. You're welcome, Chris! Take the position of the reasonable liberal and SHUT UP. The radicals are helping us. Only scared liberals afraid of not staying in charge, could fail to see it this way. Hedges announces:

Because Black Bloc anarchists do not believe in organization, indeed oppose all organized movements, they ensure their own powerlessness.

Is 'Anonymous' powerless? Like, when they brought down PayPal? Bullshit. They have power that can't be quantified, can't be controlled, and that is what the Hedges-types (whom I usually respect, as I said) do not understand.

Occupy is about the 99% and unfortunately, the 99% (includes even Republicans) are not going to agree on What Is To Be Done. Further, everybody in the 99% seems to have an opinion, even people who haven't actually spent lots of time Occupying. Although Hedges distinguished himself by getting arrested in front of Goldman Sachs, Occupier John Penley comments on Facebook:

I am tired of these intellectuals getting more fame and money writing about and attempting to direct the movement. By the way Chris... The Zapatistas wear masks and carry guns. I have spent a lot of time in Chiapas and much of the material aid and physical support for the Zapatistas came from black bloc types and I am sure they would not be happy about Hedges speaking for them like I am not sure why he feels he can speak from his high profile position so much about what the Occupy movement should or is doing.

The so-called "split" in Occupy, between pacifists and direct-actions protesters, mirrors every other political group I have ever been involved in. This is an old split, it is PRIMAL. Some people always want to chant and pray and sit, and some people always want to throw rocks. There are always ill-mannered punks who invade the porn store and trash it (I helped do this once, after solemnly promising I would not join the breakaway-faction that ran in to trash the mafia-owned business that specialized in violent "beaver loops") ... and some want to inflict even more damage and/or openly confront (and fight with) police.

What they do, you do not have to do.

What they do, is NOT ABOUT you, unless you choose (as I did, during the aforementioned 'Take Back the Night' march/demonstration) to jump ship and join the anarchists. The nice N.O.W. ladies did not approve of us young ruffians running in there and ripping up rape-pin-ups, and that is exactly why we didn't tell them what we were planning to do. They had a march-permit and were terribly well-behaved--and could therefore honestly claim to law enforcement that they had no clue a bunch of punk-rock-witches would suddenly break away and run inside the porn store, shrieking like Furies (that's what we were going for, anyway). As a result, we protected the march from possible arrests, AND we managed to inflict the damage.

But you know, you should not PLAY at rabble-rousing. If you give a bang-up speech saying 'women take back the night!'--do not be surprised when someone actually does.

When you say "We are the 99%--hoo ha!"--do not be surprised when the actual 99% shows up. Like, ALL of them; bikers, ex-cons, angry veterans, etc... and they may not have your peacenik, lets-get-in-a-circle-and-chant-OM values. Are you ready for that?

If not, Occupy is not for you. Because it really is about the 99%, that isn't just empty propaganda. Be prepared when the 99% really does show up... and they are, like the rest of us, extremely pissed off.

They may not show their anger in the nicey-nice way that you have come to expect.

~*~

If you missed my non-interview of Noam Chomsky, it is here.

Also recommended: 29 days on Drugs – Day 2: The President’s Pot Problem. The best analysis I have read, of why Obama seems so terrified to discuss freeing the weed.

Mentioned in the post is The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander, a book about the drug war (and its focus on minorities), which I will certainly be reading and discussing on my radio show.

~*~

Caution: bluegrass ahead! This lovely, traditional old song is apparently now in the public domain; author unknown. The first line of the song is today's blog post title. (What would I do without WPCI?)

Take me back to the Sweet Sunny South - Jerry Garcia and David Grisman

Dead Air Church: Deity meeting, part one

Left: Buddha statue at DIVINE CONNECTION, Black Mountain, NC.





SETTING: The various major deities, saints, and other characters in Daisy's personal theology/head/belief system/etc, have decided that they should have a meeting to discuss possible layoffs and related employment issues stemming from Daisy's ongoing theological crisis.

~*~



Our Head Deity, The Blessed Mother, calls the meeting to order, and first says the Amina Christi.

Immediately, there is dissension. St Francis asks if it is appropriate, under the circumstances. Buddha rolls his eyes, but says nothing.

Blessed Mother (herein known as Maria): I beg your pardon!? (narrows eyes) *I* am in charge here! I'll say whichever prayer I please, thanks.

St Gertrude: (smugly) You'd better SHUT UP, Francis!

Francis (seemingly allowed to do anything he wants) starts singing Grateful Dead songs: Just a box of raaaainnn, I don't know who put it there...

As if summoned, Jerry Garcia enters the meeting-place, and nods at Maria and Buddha, "Hey!" he says, good-naturedly.

St Gertrude: (eyeing Jerry suspiciously) And when did YOU get out of purgatory? I don't remember signing the transfer order!

Jerry shrugs, lights joint, passes it to St Francis, who inhales deeply. They shake hands in some odd familiar way; they are obviously old friends.

St Francis: Look, me and St Stephen sprung Jerry, okay? It was a long while back and I didn't see any reason to argue with you about it.

St Gertrude: (eyes flash disturbingly) I see. (glares at the two of them) I should have known! (mutters to herself, obviously angry)

Jerry passes joint to St Gertrude, who declines with a flourish: None for ME, danke schön.

St Francis (to Jerry): She runs purgatory, which is a really shitty job. She is always in a bad mood. (pauses, exhales) They needed a German to do it.

Jerry: Well, that makes sense.

Maria: CALLING THE MEETING TO ORDER, lets settle down, peeps! (cheerfully ignores pot smoke) Is anyone else coming? Buddha? Any of your fellas? Who is this---Shanti--what?

Shantideva enters the room, does not look at anyone but Buddha.

Buddha: My friend from the 8th century, Shantideva!

The meeting-room inhabitants look Shantideva up and down, in a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

St Francis: So why is HE the big shit all of a sudden?

Maria: (sighs) I only work here.

Buddha: He has answers to her questions, Francis. Now, come on, you know the drill. You were the big shit once. Daisy still adores you, so learn to share. (rolls eyes again) Honestly, I expected more from you, Francis.

St Francis: (chastened and defensive) I just wondered. (addresses Maria) And how come you always get to stay in charge, no matter what shake-ups happen in management?

Maria: Daisy and I go way back, further than the rest of you. (primly) And besides that, I always ANSWER HER PROMPTLY. (looks at Shantideva) And in... may I say it?... understandable language!

Shantideva: (stoically) She is ready to move on. She needs more than the Christian tradition can provide.

Maria: Oh, well, aren't WE special?!? (sniffs in superior fashion) Actually, I am also the High Priestess of the Tarot, Saraswati, Guanyin, Isis, Spider Grandmother and closely related to Maya, Buddha's mother; as you can see, our names are almost the same. Maria is merely my most recent, Latin name. I cover a LOT of ground. (to Buddha) Isn't that right, Siddhartha?

Buddha: (sighs) I'm afraid so.

Shantideva: (thoughtful) Oh well, in that case... I had no idea. (smiles at Maria, then bows deeply)

Maria smiles beneficently.


At this juncture, a conservative-appearing, slightly-spooked New Englander with a bow-tie enters, looks around nervously and sits, uncomfortably.

Maria: HOWARD! I am so glad to see you! It's been ages.

Howard: Oh well, you know how it is... (mumbles)

St Francis: Oh, not HIM again. He gives me the major creeps.

Jerry: Who is that guy?

Maria introduces Howard Phillips Lovecraft to the group. Buddha keeps his distance. Shantideva appears fascinated.

Howard: Sorry to be late. (takes out notepad) What did I miss?

St Francis: Where is JG Ballard? Now, him, I could get along with!

St Gertrude: Ballard will be in purgatory for QUITE A WHILE! (sneers for emphasis) It will take longer than a couple of Earth-years to get him out of there!

Howard suddenly recognizes St Gertrude, lets out a scared squeak.

St Gertrude: You disgusting, ungrateful, repellent, sick-ass little WORM! (torrent of Teutonic invective follows)

Maria: Gertie, careful, he served his time! Go easy on him! (unrecognizable cuss words, probably Middle German, flow unbidden from the mouth of St Gertrude) Gertie! Easy!

St Gertrude stands up, dramatically: You know, this is serious business! We may be out of a job, here! THOSE TWO! (points accusingly at Buddha and Shantideva) They are going to mess up OUR JOBS! They are DISPLACING US!

St Francis: Nah, not me, my job is safe. Like Maria says, me and Daisy go way back. Remember that time I called in that miracle and told her that her kid was safe? That was great magic, no? (chuckles proudly) She told everybody about it.

Maria: (indulgently) Yes, Francis, we know... you and Daisy have talked about it hundreds of times...

St Francis: Well, it was some of my BEST WORK.

Jerry: (nods vigorously) The really good part was when Daisy's customer asked her about the prayer of St Francis, so Daisy KNEW the miracle was straight from YOU ... dude! That was some awesome shit! It was like the icing on the cake of the miracle, just in case there was ANY doubt. (Jerry high-fives St Francis) Freaking awesome! (takes out second joint, lights it, passes joint to St Francis)

St Francis beams in satisfaction: Yeah, that last part was a nice touch. Daisy appreciates that stuff. (inhales deeply, passes to Howard, who pauses... then, looking fearfully at St Gertrude, inhales and coughs)

St Gertrude, glaring at Howard: You are responsible for most of Daisy's nihilism, you know! You and Ballard! I intend to SQUEEZE Ballard for that.

Howard pales, gulps, visibly quivers, brushes invisible dust off his black suit.

Jerry: (smiles beatifically from cannabis intake) Lighten up, Gertie!

St Gertrude: (livid) SHUT UP! (points at Jerry) YOU are the reason she picked up THAT--- (points at joint) after abstaining for 23 years! You should be ashamed of yourself!

Jerry: Me? What? I just play music, okay?

St Gertrude sputters in righteous indignation, once again lapsing into Middle German. James Dean enters, dressed exactly as he was when he struck oil in GIANT.

Shantideva: Wow, cool. I had no idea HE was gonna be here.

James Dean: How's it going? (waves at Buddha) Wow, its been awhile!

Buddha: Hasn't it? (the two embrace warmly)

And finally, St Jude and Elizabeth Taylor enter; Liz gives note to Maria from Jimi Hendrix, explaining that he couldn't make it. Liz immediately asks if there is caviar.

Shantideva: (visibly shaken) I thought this was a VEGAN meeting?

Liz: Ohhh, sorry! (giggles) No cheese either?! But DAISY--?!

Maria: Yes, Liz, I know... Daisy loves cheese, but we are being polite for the sake of Shantideva.

St Francis: (rolling eyes heavenward) Who is THE BIG SHIT with Daisy right now.

Liz (covers mouth in her famous naughty-little-girl manner, notably used to excellent effect in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf): Uh-oh! Somebody is jealous! (giggles again) Is there any... wait, no alcohol, right?

All meeting participants shake their heads in unison. St Gertrude is suddenly indignant again and snaps at Elizabeth: I can't believe you don't KNOW this stuff!

Liz: Excuse me, ladies, but I go to a lot of these things, you know? Just like Jerry does. (waves at Jerry) It's hard to keep up.

St Gertrude: You should have stayed in purgatory LONGER, but like HIM (points at Jerry), you had friends in high places to spring you early. (glares at Liz)

Liz: (winks at Gertrude) Deal with it, sister! (sits beside St Jude, who appears to be an old friend) I paid my dues!

St Jude: Yea, O dearest Gertrude, verily I say unto you, she hath paid the ransom.

St Gertrude: Oh so now you are going to go all King James on my ass?

Maria: ORDER PLEASE! Let's try to get along!

St Gertrude: That's easy to say when your job isn't in jeopardy!

Buddha: Oh--stop being so histrionic, Gertie. That melodrama might work on those desperate burning souls in purgatory, er, uh, I mean samsara, but it doesn't go over so well with the rest of us.

Howard nods emphatically.

Liz: Purgatory is a DUMP, I couldn't WAIT to get out of there.

James Dean: I'd have to agree with you on that.

Liz: Jimmy! (squeals delightedly) Haven't seen you since we filmed GIANT! (the two hug and start a long catch-up session, as the other deities start chatting with each other.)

Maria sighs, and realizes this meeting has been mostly a waste. Too much socializing.

AND she will have to manage Gertrude better next time.

~*~

And so, our very first DEAD AIR Deity meeting gets off to a rocky start. Thus, we will have to revisit our deities at a later date.

This post was inspired in part by the good Doctor Jay's post. Thanks for inspiring me to write about these things, instead of simply wringing my hands over them.

US Blues, update

What does one make of people who are poor and aging, yet apparently don't believe they will ever need health care that is currently priced way beyond their means? Is this garden-variety old-age denial or Tea Party-Republicanism run amok? Why would people be against their own interests? Is a party principle really more important than your life, or the lives of your loved ones?

As I see it, this is the crucial difference in the political debate right now. We are now arguing over our own lives, not some hypothetical situation that may or may not arise. And yet, here in the conservative south, poor people who consistently vote Republican continue making all manner of theoretical right-wing noise instead of fully comprehending that the wolf is at the door.

Example: I used to get out there and protest other people being unemployed, and now I am the one who is unemployed.

And maybe tomorrow, you will be.

This isn't academic. Not for me. It was, once, and now it is an immediate reality. What to do with people who refuse to see it that way? Who smugly believe they will stay employed, and receive the Social Security that they don't want other undeserving people to receive?

For instance, two people who made money off the GOVERNMENT, now say nobody else should: Michele Bachmann, ex-IRS stooge fattened off of farm subsidies (i.e. welfare) and our congressman, Trey Gowdy, who made his living as a prosecutor (with starring roles on FORENSIC FILES and DATELINE, for catching bad guys). How can Trey have a career in government while railing against the government that has fed and clothed him very well? Why does Michele want to cut off welfare for actual poor people, but she is allowed to rake in $251,973 of OUR hard-earned money? (screams)

I think this is called, talking out of both sides of your mouth. As Rand Paul treated patients funded through Medicaid, and made MONEY off of Medicaid, but now wants to limit/abolish it for others. (He's made his money, so now he's through with it. Nice work if you can get it!)

And Michele Bachmann wins the Iowa straw poll. (screams again for emphasis)

I'd love to hear some opinions about this rather twisted southern phenomenon, if you got any. For one thing, I'd like to know, is this sorry situation a purely southern one? Do any poor people besides southern whites consistently vote against themselves?

It's enough to make you tear your hair out.

~*~

Great introductory animation on this one! Enjoy!

US Blues - Grateful Dead



~*~

And just listen to this! I have no idea where or when it was recorded, but I would say from the looks of their hair (touch of gray, ha) that it was late 80s/early 90s.

Star Spangled Banner - Grateful Dead



Jokey comments about how they couldn't let Phil sing for this one, LOL.

Monday Music: Brokedown Palace

Not the best version; looks odd but historically fascinating. Weird pseudo-psychedelic visuals. European or Australian TV? (Does not look familiar as a USA-based show.) Personnel, older (and generally disheveled) musical arrangement, as well as Bobby's hair suggest this was the very early 70s.

"Listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul."

~*~

Brokedown Palace - Grateful Dead

John 'Marmaduke' Dawson 1945-2009

John Dawson, aka Marmaduke, of New Riders of the Purple Sage, has died of stomach cancer at age 64.



John Dawson, a founder of the New Riders of the Purple Sage, dies at 64
By Paul Liberatore
Marin Independent Journal

John "Marmaduke" Dawson, a singer-songwriter who co-founded the psychedelic country-rock band the New Riders of the Purple Sage with the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia, died Tuesday in Mexico after a bout with stomach cancer, the band announced. He was 64.

Mr. Dawson, who retired to Mexico in the 1990s, formed the New Riders in 1969 with Garcia, who needed a band outside of the Grateful Dead to practice his nascent pedal steel guitar playing.

Fronted by Mr. Dawson, the lead singer, the New Riders released eight albums on Columbia Records from 1971 to 1976, including "The Adventures of Panama Red," a gold record that featured Peter Rowan's pot paean "Panama Red."

As a songwriter, Mr. Dawson co-wrote the Grateful Dead classic "Friend of the Devil," as well as "Glendale Train," "Garden of Eden" and "Last Lonely Eagle" for the New Riders.

The band became a successful touring act, and in 1974 played for 50,000 fans in New York's Central Park. They shared an office on Second Street in San Rafael with another Marin band, Commander Cody and the Lost Planet Airmen.

Saying he was weary of life on the road, Mr. Dawson retired in the late '90s. In 2001, he rejoined his former bandmates for a one-off concert at a California party, but he chose not to participate in a version of the band that regrouped in 2006 and remains active today. But he gave his blessing.

"John Dawson had a great knack for writing classic American songs," said Marin resident Rob Bleetstein, the New Riders' archivist and Web master. "A song like 'Glendale Train' could be looked at as a traditional American folk song.

"In terms of American music, the New Riders were the quintessential psychedelic country band," Bleetstein added. "In 1969, there wasn't anyone doing what they were doing. With Garcia's sound on pedal steel and Dawson's great songs and imagery, they really had something special."

Thanks to Doc Anchovy and Paul Liberatore.

Goodbye Marmaduke, we'll miss you, your tunes and your wry humor.

Monday music: Let the Good Times Roll

Judging from appearances, I'd say this is from the late 80s, but no way to be certain. (I invite all deadhead-readers to jump in with chronological estimates.) Bobby is wearing some extremely dorky short-shorts. The late Brent Mydland is on keyboards, which means this performance was recorded before July 1990.

I don't know where this concert venue is, but the crowd is ENORMOUS!

~*~

Grateful Dead - Let the Good Times Roll

If I knew the way, I would take you home

I am attending our yearly commemorative candle-lighting tonight, for the thousands of American dead in Iraq. It is YEAR SIX of the Iraq War. Do you believe? YEAR SIX.

I find I do not want to go; I find the sight of all those candles (one for each soldier) simply stunning (not in a good way) and almost utterly overwhelming. What possible good could come from thousands of dead enlisted personnel; thousands of once-alive, vibrant young souls?

Why are we still in Iraq, again?

Depressed, confused, talking to God (okay, arguing!) and feeling the futility of it all. And yet, giving up is not an option. I have never known how to do that. (See previous post: I have 4 Virgos in my astrological chart!)

As Deadheads know, there is only one song for these occasions.


~*~

Ripple (Robert Hunter/Jerry Garcia)


If my words did glow
with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice
come through the music
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

Its a hand-me-down
the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

Reach out your hand
if your cup be empty
If your cup is full
may it be again
Let it be known
there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men

There is a road
no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go
no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone.

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow.

You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall
you fall alone
If you should stand
then who's to guide you?

If I knew the way, I would take you home.


~*~

Do yall have any idea how many versions of this are on YouTube? Maybe hundreds.

This one is particularly nice in that you can hear the audience singing along.



Ripple - Grateful Dead

Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile

The graphic at left, in whatever form, is called a STEALIE. It was designed by none other than Stanley Owsley himself. [EDIT, in comments, Doc Anchovy has helpfully pointed out that I reversed the famous acid-chemist's name, which is Owsley Stanley. His acid was named simply "Owsley"--so I tend to forget that was not his surname. --Daisy]

The word "stealie" comes from the line "steal your face right off your head"--a trick only Deadheads know how to do. :)

The line is at 1:10 and 5:30 in the following song, if you don't want to listen to the whole thing.

Recorded in 1972 in Denmark. Once again, Bobby looks about 14. Phil, about 16. (Jerry was born looking 40... sigh.)

He's Gone - Grateful Dead



I hope the last thing I ever hear on this planet is the reedy, tweedly-tweedly introductory-riff of this song. I have probably heard it 50,000 times, and yet, the riff embeds itself DEEP into my cerebral cortex and makes me SMILE SMILE SMILE just like a Stealie. :D

I have always loved the fact that the song makes no rational sense. Life isn't always sensible, you know!

The second line is the name of my archives (sidebar at right) also. I thought naming it simply "archives" was boring.

For you old Ms. message-board denizens, my name on Ms. was...

China Cat Sunflower - Grateful Dead



It is considered musical blasphemy that the previous clip does not automatically segue into I Know You Rider--they were always performed together and therefore known as "China/Rider" by fans. (YouTube is too TIME-LIMITED to contain the magical force that was the Grateful Dead!)

Someone helpfully continued the second half (the full China/Rider, containing finale, here):

I Know you Rider - Grateful Dead



Listen to the signature loop-de-loop riff that signals the song's end, no matter how long they jam. It's at about 4 minutes. Rumbly, doodle-doodle bass by Phil, with the transcendent riff sliding right over it. It's traced on my cerebellum forever!

And yeah, you're right, we do miss you, Grandpa Jerry. At least we can still listen.

Enjoy!

Ain't no luck, I learned to duck

Left: President-Elect Barack Obama at Furman University, during the South Carolina primary. Photo from Greenville News. (This is one of my favorite photos of Obama, and I love that it was taken locally.)

~*~

South Carolina went for McCain early, as I said last night. Nonetheless, I stayed up late, late, late, waiting for North Carolina to go for Obama. The jury is still out; they are still tallying the votes. Of course, I also stayed up to watch Barack Obama's acceptance speech.

Michelle was beaming, the girls beaming. They are the ones who made me cry, actually. Their joy and happiness was contagious indeed.

~*~

I was driving yesterday on Pelham Road in Greenville, when some guy in a fancy-ass Lexus started tailgating me and giving me the finger. At the intersection of Patewood and Pelham, turning left, he started honking at me to turn. It's a very busy intersection, and I was waiting for the green arrow-light. Looking in my rear view mirror, I saw him yelling and gesturing wildly. He looked like the actor Rene Auberjonois, and for a second, I thought it might actually be him. (Lots of people retire in South Carolina, so it isn't an outlandish idea. I reflexively thought, go back to Hollywood, asshole!)

I've been especially frazzled and rushed lately, and as a result, I am currently not the most centered person. (I try, I really do, as Billy Jack so memorably said.) I got pissed and stubbornly refused to turn until I got the green arrow, and yelled FUCK YOU so that he could read my lips. After turning, he passed me in the right lane. I gave him the finger as he passed. He then jumped into my lane and slowed down. I actually thought he was gonna jump out of his Lexus on Patewood Drive and commence to open a can of whup-ass on me. Yes, locals will realize, this was right in front of St Francis hospital... I guess we wouldn't have far to go to the ER if we ended up in a fistfight, huh?

But I was flabbergasted. Whaaaaa!?!? WTF? I couldn't figure out the tantrum, which seemingly came out of nowhere. And then I remembered my ANOTHER MAMA FOR OBAMA bumper sticker. (I didn't think a "Go vegetarian!" bumper sticker could possibly make him that angry, but you know, I could be wrong.) HAH! UPSET, ARE WE!? Most of the south went red yesterday, which made me sad, although it was far closer than it's been in decades. But I guess Mr Lexus knew which way the tide was turning, and he was agitated. TOO, TOO BAD!

I am wondering if anyone else experienced that kind of thing yesterday, harassment and unbridled assholery from sore losers. Particularly here in the red states.

~*~

Time to celebrate! In this song, the phrase "rock the boat" was widely assumed to be "rock the vote"--due to the patriotic context. I have always thought the popular slogan "rock the vote" came from this misheard lyric. Or maybe not. But we did it, huh? :)

If only my mother, my grandmother, Steve Conliff, Jerry Garcia, so many people, could be present to witness this historic event.

For them, for us, here is -- US BLUES! Thanks to Yoga For Cynics for the idea! (For those who prefer the cleaned-up studio version, click here.)



And Elizabeth Dole LOST! Let's hope she also loses the lawsuit, filed by her opponent (and new Democratic Senator of North Carolina!) Kay Hagan.

I am completely thrilled that the south has a DEMOCRATIC WOMAN SENATOR!!!! KAY KAY ALL THE WAY, KAY KAY ALL THE WAY....

Merl Saunders 1934-2008

Merl Saunders, photo by Bob Minkin.

~*~



I haven't had a chance to write a formal obituary... but wanted to acknowledge the Deadhead family's loss of Merl. A friend called me at work to tell me over the weekend.

Also see Annie's wonderful post.

~*~

Merl Saunders dies at age 74

Merl Saunders, a keyboardist best known for his collaborations with Grateful Dead front man Jerry Garcia, died Friday at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center in San Francisco of complications from a stroke he had several years ago. Saunders was 74.

A musician who worked in a variety of genres in a long and varied career, Saunders played piano and keyboard but favored the Hammond B3 organ. He led his own bands and worked with an array of musicians, including the blues-oriented Bonnie Raitt and B.B. King, jazz legend Miles Davis and the jam band Phish.

He played on the Grateful Dead's 1971 album "Grateful Dead," but it was his collaborations with Garcia away from the group that earned him lasting notice. Starting in the 1970s, they worked on a variety of projects and recorded several albums together, including "Heavy Turbulence," "Fire Up" and "Live at the Keystone." Years later they released the popular New Age album "Blues From the Rainforest." Saunders later released a video chronicling his journey to the Amazon.

Garcia credited Saunders with teaching him the Great American Songbook and expanding his knowledge of harmony.

"He taught me music," Garcia said.

Saunders said their association had a "charisma and chemistry you couldn't question."

"We wouldn't play together for a couple of years, then we'd walk onstage and sound like we'd been playing together every day," Saunders told the Los Angeles Times shortly after Garcia's death in 1995. "That's called knowing. Sometimes I still play off him; I hear what he's doing, the notes he'd be playing, even though he's gone."

Resquiat in Pace, dear friend.

More at Dead.net.

----------------
Listening to: Grateful Dead - I Know You Rider
via FoxyTunes

JW's tarot reading

Left: I worried the tarot reading would reflect my negativity about JW's imminent relocation, so I did some clearing with sage first. We relaxed and put on a DVD of Bob Marley to get in a mellow and enlightened mindset. (My friend, JW, is in her 20s, and finds it amazing that I actually saw Bob Marley in person, in 1978.)

~*~

A dear friend is moving to the West Coast. The upstate is losing another progressive, another great soul, a Buddhist with no place to practice.

Sometimes I wonder if there is any hope for upstate South Carolina; any way to hold on to the artists, the drifters, the nonconformists, the young idealists. The big-money movers and shakers are here, but the gentle, questing souls move away. This has happened to me so many times; friends leave. It's difficult. I can only hope they remember me fondly, when they recall their times in SC.

I can also try to make the environment more hospitable, personally and politically, so that the "cool people" stick around, instead of beating a hasty retreat.

Meanwhile, I mourn the loss of my friend to the "cool state" of Oregon.

~*~

JW is one of the young people with a more spiritually-advanced soul than I have. We have taken turns counseling each other. Although I had always heard that there were highly-spiritually-evolved young people, I haven't met many that I would assign this designation...except JW. She has proven an age-old truth to me, that age does not necessarily equal wisdom.

Losing this person, as I said, is difficult.

The tarot reading was very mixed, but accurate. We had a long conversation over the cards. Obviously, she has a lot of contempt for the place she is leaving; the constant harassment to seek Jesus, the lack of openness concerning spiritual matters and Buddhism in particular. The Emperor reversed, the nine of swords--her fears of the (complicated) relocation possibly getting all-botched-up, are right out there. (There are other issues, of course, that I know she would not want me to share here.)

But as always, she has The Star in her reading, as befits a spiritually-advanced soul.

I tell her she can always fall back on her practice, her meditation, yoga, centering, spirituality... this is her great strength.

There is never a time I have done JW's reading without encountering The Star.




~*~

As a return gift for my reading, JW arranges stones for the necklace she is making for me. This will be the way I remember her, a lasting spiritual mark of her almost-daily presence in my life. She fiddles with pendulums and various crystals and seashells in the busy, jewelry-making hub of her home. She brings them to me and calibrates their energy.


~*~





Left: JW finally assembles the precise stones and design for my necklace.

We talk about the technicalities of the long-distance move, her daughter, her partner, the work ahead of her. She has about half of their stuff packed up already, but plenty is left to do. It is daunting, but she is very happy to leave our locality, which does sadden me. But I am glad to see their life together finally taking off in the direction that I know will make them happy.


~*~


Left: Time for Jerry.

~*~

And then we relax again, with another DVD and a somewhat more distracted conversation. I tell her how nice it would be to live in a civilized state where I could get medical marijuana for my bad knees and dilapidated shoulder. Apparently, it is embarrassingly easy. Ah, Oregon sounds nice.

She extends the invitation: please come see us anytime.

And finally, I leave, happy yet sad. Shedding tears for my own loss, but happy for their gain.

Vaya con Dios.

Dead Air Church - Laughing

This song was recorded in 1973 for David Crosby's "solo" album (which was hardly solo) titled If Only I Could Remember My Name. Deadheads will particularly enjoy playing "name-that-musician" with this video, which includes the whole tribe of people playing on this song--as well as a look at David Crosby's long career, stretching all the way back to his time in the Byrds. Sweet, dreamy harmonies by Joni Mitchell, Grace Slick, Graham Nash. And that heartbreakingly-lovely steel guitar by Jerry Garcia. A beautiful, timeless song.

Have a peaceful sabbath, and don't forget to laugh in the sun.

~*~

I thought I met a man
Who said he knew a man
Who knew what was going on

I was mistaken

Only another stranger
That I knew

And I thought I had found a light
To guide me through
My night and all this darkness

I was mistaken

Only reflections of a shadow
That I saw

And I thought I'd seen someone
Who seemed at last
To know the truth

I was mistaken

Only a child laughing
In the sun

~*~

David Crosby - Laughing

[via FoxyTunes / David Crosby]