Monthly Archives: August 2010

The Death Row to Neptune Express

Joseph A. Morse, San Quentin Prison’s Death Row, 1972.

After nearly a decade of subsisting on valium, seconal, prison-made wine and
a little heroin, I was introduced to LSD. My fellow condemned prisoners were a little reluctant to try the new chemical because of the gloomy environment, but I had practically been raised on death row. I had arrived there at age 19, and after nearly a decade I was still about 19 mentally and emotionally. So, what the fuck? Bring on a bad trip. How could it be any worse than reality?

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We Have Come To Remove You

Ah-ah-ah, ha-ha, ho-ho!

Fly into the streets! All who are still fresh and young and not dehumanized – to the streets! The pot-bellied mortar of laughter stands in a square drunk with joy. Laughter and Love, copulating with Melancholy and Hate, pressed together in the mighty, convulsive passion of bestial lust. Long live the psychology of contrasts! Intoxicated, burning spirits have raised the flaming banner of intellectual revolution. Death to the creatures of routine, the philistines, the sufferers from gout! Smash with a deafening noise the cup of vengeful storms! Tear down the churches and their allies the museums! Blast to smithereens the fragile idols of Civilization! Hey, you decadent architects of sarcophagi of thought, you watchmen of the universal cemetery of books – stand aside! We have come to remove you!

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Recreating: Josef Stalin’s Late Night Drinking Party at Gunpoint

There was once a young boy who held a dream close, so close to his tender heart: to hold a magnificent midsummer gala to celebrate and highlight all of his life’s accomplishments. He dreamed of an event filled with music and glad handing. He fantasied of the night could he could remark to people he has known for 15 or 20 years: “I’m sorry I dont believe we have met…” and then with a smirk remark to the adoring throng to the left “She was NOT invited”. He would call it the Soiree Musicale, and it would be beautiful.

josefstalinlatenight
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Jenkem Madness

"It lasts about an hour", says one user, 16-year-old Luke Mpande, who prefers Jenkem to other substances.

"With glue, I just hear voices in my head. But with Jenkem, I see visions. I see my mother who is dead and I forget about the problems in my life."

“At the Lusaka sewage ponds, two teenage boys plunge their hands into the dark brown sludge, gathering up fistfuls and stuffing it into small plastic bottles. They tap the bottles on the ground, taking care to leave enough room for methane to form at the top. A sour smell rises in the hot sun, but the boys seem oblivious to the stench and the foul nature of their task.

jenkemmadness
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The Man Who Lived Through Doomsday

It is doubtful that even his mother could claim the Ludger Sylbaris was a nice man. Born in 1875 on Martinique and known as Sanson (or Samson) for his great strength, by 1902 at the age of 27 he was a habitual drunk and repeat felon. The police were hardly surprised when called to the scene of a knife fight on May 7 1902 that the aggressor was Sylbaris. Charged with slashing his opponent with a cutlass he was given a month’s solitary confinement and the police threw him in the deepest, darkest cell to be found in Saint-Pierre, Martinique.

themanwholivedthroughdoomsday
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