If you want to know where it all started boys and girls, way back in the 80's there was a man known as THE KING OF CANNABIS.
He was a bit obsessive and found himself fascinated by how well you could cross breed marijuana strains and came up with the idea to start a mail order seed company to sell them. He traveled around the world and collected varieties in Afghanistan (for the skunkiest strains), Russia (for cold weather strains) all over and started cross breeding the best of the best. The catalogs were awesome and would make you drool at the strain descriptions, & pictures.
The Sensi Seeds is the company as it is now, run by the famous in Cannabis culture- Ben Dronkers.
I met Ben and was his guest along with Jack Herer, Micha (French Author that I know I'm spelling wrong-Sorry!)
Several Judges, & the High Times staff at the end of the 8th Cannabis Cup (Winner was whiteWidow)
Hash Museum is next door to the Sensi Seed Bank
I lucked out at the Hash museum earlier in the day and was given 2 tickets to the VIP PARTY, by someone who had interviewed me at High Times. It was a fluke of all flukes.
We had just enough time to catch the bus to the Castle which was outside of Amsterdam a good 2 hour ride, or an hour. There was a bit of pot smoking going on and I can't be sure of the times reported here.
When we got there we were greeted by a host of belly dancers & flute players, and wenches serving beer & wine. A wonderful table spread of local dutch treats to eat. Cheeses & Kipper, meats, rolls . Everyone entered like you landed at the bottom of a rabbit hole and here was a castle of wonder- filled with 4 foot budding cannabis plants in every corner and lining the hallways. Surreal is an understatement.
17th century wenches serving up silver trays to guest with bags of gram buds were given out and there were smoking devices & papers everywhere.
I wandered up the stairway exploring the second floor and met Eagle Bill. Eagle Bill was showing everyone at this Cup his invention he called a VAPORIZER. As Eagle Bill was explaining the concept to me and getting the heat gun ready to give me a hit- up the stairs walks Jack Herer. Now I'm thrilled. I had met Jack earlier in the week at the event but it was crazy and everyone was wanting his attention so we didn't talk much. He joined me in hitting the new invention. I took a small hit knowing that I'm a light weight. Jack didn't. He hit the thing really hard , and when he choked on the hit, the coughing went on and on -a bit too long and I had one stoned thought- "please god don't let Jack die smoking with me". When he finally caught his breath , I was very relieved and we both went down the stairs and joined the party again.
Eagle Bill and his invention- The Vaporizer.
The Bulldog in the Leidesplein
Me with Jack Herer, a true mentor in every sense of the word.
This isn't my normal post, but I have to share this, it's a human interest story that means a lot to me. Keep in mind he didn't let anything stop him from getting those children out. We need more people who can do whats right - regardless of bureaucracy, bad laws, or obstacles.
This is who I admire in every way.
Sir Nicholas Winton
Getting High with Hunter S. Thompson
by Keith Stroup
"I have always loved marijuana. It has been a source of joy and comfort to me for many years. And I still think of it as a basic staple of life, along with beer and ice and grapefruits – and millions of Americans agree with me." --Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
One of the serendipitous occurrences in my life was meeting the late Hunter S. Thompson, the original Gonzo journalist, in 1972, at the Democratic National Convention in Miami. Hunter was there to cover the event for Rolling Stone magazine and I was there, along with a myriad of other activists, hoping to find a way to get some national attention on the need to legalize marijuana, and to stop arresting marijuana smokers.
I had founded NORML 18 months earlier in late 1970, but few people were yet aware of our work, so we jumped in my 1961 Volkswagon camper, a common set of wheels for a would-be hippie back then, and headed to Miami to join the anti-Vietnam war activists along with proponents for all sorts of social change, from environmentalism to gay rights to workers’ rights, and everything in-between.
At the time, we didn’t have any party connections and we didn’t really have any idea of what was going to happen in Miami; but we made plans to go anyway because the prior Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968 had been a watershed moment for American political dissent. In what must be a high point in political street theater, Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin and the Youth International Party (the Yippies) nominated a pig for president, and captured national media attention in the process.
When I met Hunter he was smoking a joint under the bleachers at the opening night of the convention. I was sitting in the stands listening to the speeches when, quite suddenly — and without any question in my mind — I smelled marijuana, and quickly realized it was coming from down below. I looked below the bleachers and what I saw was a fairly big guy smoking a fairly fat joint. He was trying to be discreet, but it wasn’t working very well. I could see him hunkering in the shadows — tall and lanky, flailing his arms and oddly familiar. Jesus Christ, I suddenly realized, that’s Hunter S. Thompson!
Like every other young stoner in America I had read “Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas” as it was serialized a few months earlier in Rolling Stone. Hunter would soon gather great fame for himself, the kind of fame from which one can never look back upon. But on the night I met Hunter, his star was still ascending.
Screw the speeches, I thought to myself.
I quickly found my way under the bleachers and approached as politely as possible.
“Hu-uh - What the fuck?!! Who’re you?!”
“Hey, Hunter. Keith Stroup from the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws. We’re a new smoker’s lobby.” Easy enough.
“Oh. Oh, yeah! Yeah! Here,” Hunter held out his herb, “You want some?”
We finished that joint and started a friendship that lasted for 33 years, as Hunter became an important NORML supporter and advisory board member. Doc was a self-described political junkie and so am I, and that was the basis of our long friendship - that and a mutual predilection for fine drugs.
Over the next three decades plus, I would manage to get together with Hunter for some personal time, occasionally when he was on a speaking tour that would bring him to the DC area, but more frequently when I would visit Hunter at Owl Farm, his home outside Aspen, in Woody Creek, CO. It was always a special occasion that I looked forward to each year or so, as a welcome escape from the uptight East Coast political world in which I lived and worked.
While every experience with Hunter was a unique one, the Doc was a man with a daily routine, albeit a routine unlike most.
A typical evening at Hunter’s would not start before 10:00pm or so, as he generally worked all night and slept all day. He would arise in the late afternoon or early evening, take a few hours to read the papers and get over any sluggishness remaining from the abuses of the night before, and then he was ready for his friends.
Hunter would be sitting on a kitchen stool at his command post, a breakfast bar that divided his kitchen area in half, and provided Hunter with an unobstructed view of his television set, which was constantly tuned to whatever sporting event was in season; and within reach of his over-worked fax machine, which he used constantly throughout the evening to send provocative notes to his many friends. The remote for his television was hanging from a cord attached to the ceiling above where he sat, so he could always find it, regardless of how stoned he might be.
Usually it would be just Hunter and me (and sometimes his long-time assistant Debra Fuller), but occasionally Aspen Sheriff Bob Braudis, a good friend of Hunter’s, would also be there, and sometimes our mutual friend and part-time Aspen resident, criminal defense attorney Gerry Goldstein.
The idea of the local sheriff spending the evening with us initially seemed a bit strange, but everything was strange at Hunters, and being close friends with the sheriff and a nationally respected criminal defense attorney undoubtedly played a key role in keeping Hunter (mostly) out of trouble over the years.
Hunter was always playful, and loved to goad his friends, using his fax machine the way some people use Facebook today, sending out scores of faxes each night, both on policy issues, as well as challenging them to bet on sporting events (Hunter loved to bet), and those faxes would be taped to a nearby wall or lampshade or kitchen cabinet.
It looked like a piece of performance art created by someone who had been tripping on acid (that may well account for how this practice began), but in fact all of his friends were proud when we saw one of our own faxes among the hundreds taped to things around his command post. It was Hunter’s way of keeping track of things, a total stoner’s version of a Rolodex.
Needless to say, I would always bring my best quality weed to share with Hunter--he always preferred smoking joints, as do I--and he would always have what seemed like a bottomless supply of cocaine, and whiskey, often Wild Turkey bourbon, as well as some pot. And we would talk about current political events, or elected officials (Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan and others whom he despised, and never tired of trashing in his writings), and watch sporting events, and continually challenge each other to do more of all of the above intoxicants.
And of course he always told me my marijuana was dirt-weed, something no reputable stoner would ever be caught smoking; and I would suggest he must have stolen his marijuana from some college kids along the border, cause I couldn't even get a high from it. Of course the truth was that both of us had great marijuana, and the addition of the cocaine and whiskey meant we could not possibly distinguish which drug was responsible for the high we had achieved; we just knew we were getting high as hell and enjoying it. It always felt safe when we were locked away at Owl Farm.
Usually by 2:00am or so I was so wasted I would excuse myself and head back to Aspen to crash, but Hunter would then wake-up his assistant and begin his work day, which would not end until daybreak, when he would finally crash, only to repeat the routine the following day. The gonzo lifestyle Hunter so entertainingly wrote about was of course somewhat exaggerated, but only somewhat. In one of his famous lines Hunter bragged “I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."
He really did push the envelop in every possible manner, and he managed to maintain that lifestyle for decades, before finally ending his own life in 2005. His friends were all terribly saddened by his death, but not surprised. We had presumed that, baring an accident, Hunter would exit this world on his own terms and his own schedule. And he did.
I realized from the start that I could never really keep up with Hunter’s excesses; I could do it for a few hours at a time, and valued the many times I had the privilege of spending an evening with Hunter, seeing just how high we could get. He was without question the most fascinating and interesting person I have ever known, and I enjoyed being his friend. But I always knew I would be returning to my real life shortly after my visit, back to a world in which we all have both professional goals and personal lives to pursue, in which moderation plays a necessary role.
Gonzo was a state of mind I loved to visit, but I could never call it my permanent home. But those periodic visits were like a peek behind a very special curtain, and I was fortunate to have a back-stage pass.
I just finished a recording studio session and I'm pretty wired so I decided to add a blog entry about one of the best stoner movies out there.
The Wackness , starring Sir Ben KIngsley, Josh Peck,Mary-Kate Olsen, Famke Janssen, and many more.
This is one of the rare works out there where everything works. The story , the acting, and most of all the weed references.
For me I hate watching any movie that gets the details wrong like if I watch a western and on the horse is a saddle made in the 1960's and the movie is set in 1890. I'm weird like that, and in weed movies it happens all the time. Either the prices are crazy wrong, or the fake weed looks fake or they act crazy stoned in like 4 seconds.
This movie was awesome, & they got it all right. The slam dunk is a crazy good soundtrack for the period piece that it is.
Watch this after a bong- and report your findings.
Space Cadet 420 out....................
I'm a huge HUNTER fan and after getting so many request for Gonzo (Track on my last CD) I add Bat Country on my upcoming CD Titled "Ufo's , Frank the bunny, Weed, and other true stories" out April 2014.
Me & Frank will be taking the stage to resurrect Hunter S. Thompson is all his drug addled glory.
We have an all new show to tour 2014 starting in Colorado.Smoke up and join me at a show. Thanks ,Max
"I LOVE HANGING WITH MY FRIENDS, SMOKING BUDS AND PLAYING MUSIC".
It took me a few months and lots of bong hits to get through it- but my new CD is finally done.
Based on true stories, events & adventures it's a collection of dark humorous tales of my Americana.
I had a lot of friends participate and some of the tracks have them singing and playing like Hits from the Bong, Living in a Cartoon World, My Monster. Probably some others I'm forgetting.
There are 21 tracks in all and I still have about a dozen songs out there to record from my show like Hey Dad, Tweety Free Bird, and others.
My favorite song is Stoned to the Bone which is about people not being able to reach me at times or the why you can't reach me at certain times.
I have a space alien thing I just can't get out of my head and there are several tracks spaced out on the CD.
Space Cadet 420 is a headphone ride crafted with Greg Brady at 1311 Studio. We spent hours layering sounds & spatial qualities to give any stoner a cerebral experience. When we were all done I sparked up and gave it a ride. It's spot on what I was going for, the real test will be for you the listener to decide.
And I wrote one of the songs after the masters were all done, but I had to get it on the CD.
THE PHONE CALL. My 420 friends all over will appreciate that song. I've actually gotten a lot of emails about that one already.
My songs are usually visions or dreams and come rather quickly. CT cutie was dreamt entirely and when I woke up I was so hungover I couldn't get up out of bed- So I texted the entire song to my nephew in Washington. I got through about half of the lyrics and he texted back "your an animal".
GONZO is my tribute to HUNTER S. Thompson. He is a hero and a large inspiration for bringing my craziness to my stage show.
The DEXTER MORGAN GOODBYE SONG is for his victims. If I was DEXTER I would want to torture my victim with a song I wrote-Hence this song was born.
The Devils Backbone highway song is a true story. An adventure I took with Karli Duran of San Antonio NORML to find the old bar that Todd Snider Sang about. If you don't know Todd Snider please look him up. He is my favorite folk singer and storyteller. Anyway the song is inspired by events that happened that day. I will post some pictures from that day at the bottom of this post.
If you like what you hear please support the Max Random show!
Thank you very much for being here on my site.
Here is a lawyer & a police detective who both say "DON"T TALK TO THE POLICE".
If you enjoy being a free person, please watch.
Feel free to comment after if you learn something.
Part 2 is the rebuttal by the detective-
HERE IS THE VIDEO YOU WATCH AND DECIDE FOR YOURSELF IF
CANNABIS SHOULD BE LEGALIZED FOR MEDICINE.
Robert Platshorn has a remarkable story & exposes the truth of all the benefits to people suffering from chronic pain & diseases.
Below I included a follow up video by Robert outlining the showing of the documentary on public TV.
Please comment after watching and share this movie with anyone in your family that suffers and has not received cures or help from their doctors.
I personally have Swyer James syndrome (A rare birth defect that limited me to one fully functioning lung & asthma.
Small amount of cannabis help me to breath easy without laboring to get air.
The days without easy breathing are describable as being winded like you ran a marathon for just getting up and being on my feet.
I seldom have those days when I can vaporize.
I'm a fan of David's writings since I stumbled upon a book, strolling through a Barnes & Noble. The title caught my eye - Me Talk Pretty One day. I have a rule that if I see a book that looks appealing , I open it up and start reading to see if the style or the story grabs me. I read that one for 2 chapters laughing (LOL) the whole time. Then I found on youtube several public readings David did and they are even funnier.
Here is my favorite one for Christmas. If you like it, be sure to check out his book collection.