I Got Dem Ol’ Time Turtle Blues Again Mama! (Sorry Janis)
Hippy Kee Aye kii… Fuck Yeah!
Just for nostalgia
Bikers, Hippy’s and Dope!
And all for free!
Right here on your radical dial:
(while I search the old drafts whut need posting, or at least, composting)
I feel as if I am running out of time and headlong into this
More Mister Bruce down yonder Y’all
Thank you (all Y’all) for visiting my humble site.
“Don’t touch my bags if you please, Mister Customs Man.”
Let us never forget:
Smiling, said he was the Lone Ranger…comin’ into Los Angeleese…
This Land is still ours; let’s hold on to it:
“Now yer gettin’ ‘preachy’ Lance”
“Yeah, I know. It’s Lenny’s fault. First Amendment and all that jazz…”
Here is a no shitter story:
I talked to my “ever-so-cool” step-sister back in the Seventies about this song.
She said to me,
“Lance, what does this song mean to you?”
I said (thirteen years old), I said, it is about some dude carrying his brother out of a war zone in a desert, and some guy comes up and says, ‘Is he heavy?’
And the dude says, “No. He’s my brother.”
My step-sister just left me there, all alone, wondering why I was not cool.
Yet another bit gleaned from my longer post of 29 Jan. ‘The Time Has Come,’ The Walrus Said, ‘To Talk of Many Things: Of Murdered Birds, Of Turtles Green, and Hippies Sellin’ Rings.’
My mother was probably “The Original Hippy Chick.” When Haight-Asbury was in full bloom, she would not shut up about it until we went there. I knew a little of the Hippy Culture then, yet had no desire to experience it ‘up close an’ personal.’ Mom did. So one bright sunny Saturday morning we packed up the Rambler and headed to ‘Frisco and Haight-Ashbury. To say that trip opened my eyes would be an understatement bordering on felonious. I was shocked, awed, amazed, bothered, bewildered, enlightened, enchanted, enthralled, and all at the same time. The whole day was a whorl of attacks on my senses and emotions. I remember clearly all the people with their long hair, colorful clothing, love beads, head bands, peace signs, guitars, laughter, and smoke coming from everywhere and not smelling at all like the smoke from the cigarettes my mother used to light up. But most of all, I remember the music. Music was ubiquitous and oh how I did love the music.
We walked up and down those streets for hours and I do believe my mother stopped and purchased some trinket from every single hippy-trinket-seller she visited, which, by my estimation, would have been all of two hundred of them.
Not really being a trinkets-man myself, I purchased a pair of small green turtles that I wanted to rescue from a hippy life I was certain they were not well suited for. I actually remember telling the turtles during the ride home not to worry; that they were safe now, and also apologizing to them if I had left any of their family members behind due to the fact that my meager allowance did not afford me the luxury of benevolence to purchase freedom for the whole lot of them–Even though I did beg mom for an advance to do just that.
The turtles ended up having a fine long Turtle – Life and were probably the only two green turtles to ever migrate from California to Texas. Texas suited them, and me, better.