GUYS! GALS! WRAP YOUR SPHINCTERS AROUND THE PRESIDENT'S FACE TODAY!
FROG FEST HONORS HIGH TIMES FILM
GO FUCK A LLAMA
ASK DR. FUCK
GREAT MOMENTS IN DEALING HISTORY
HIGH ON SCI•FI
LESS IS MORE
YOUR SLUM G-DDESS OF THE MONTH
EYE BALL THE STARS with FENTON BENDIX
Or if that's not exactly up your alley, you gals out there could use the Presidential Shaft to scratch your ovaries while the guys look on admiringly. (Personally, fellas, we feel that inserting the head of the president up your ass is a risk well worth running, in terms of any latent homosexual-type feelings it may stir up.
"Look," I was telling Dylan as he curiously perused the cover of my new book on the N.Y. Rangers, Thin Ice, "It's not the Hockey Hall of Fame but It'll do," The Hall of Fame in reference was the Songwriters Hall of Fame, which was honoring Bob a few nights before the publication date of Thin Ice, my new boOk on the Rangers.
YOUR CONNOISSEUR has never been one to go in for gurus of any kind. To tell the truth, I've always preferred wise guys to Wise Men. But when somebody tipped me off to an all-night party for the guy they call the "Ganja Guru," I couldn't resist checking it out.
U.S. MILITARY INVASION OF SOUTH FLORIDA: ANOTHER VIETNAM?
The Drug War Armada
FLA.: ANOTHER VIETNAM?
THE REAGAN ADMINISTRATION'S MUCH-BALLYHOOED South Florida task force may be serious business, but the spring launching of the operation was accompanied by as much political flimfiammery as most official dope wars of the past. Before his troops had even taken up battle positions, the generalissimo of the campaign, VicePresident George Bush himself, was taking credit for major drug seizures.
WHEN JOHN BELUSHI'S fire went out, it took nearly a week for the smoke to clear, and even then a haze continued to hang over the facts. But it was local politics, not any real mystery about the comedian's early exit, that confused matters. Within hours of the discovery of Belushi's body, police and officials of the county coroner's office knew virtually as much as they would ever know about how he had died.
Tug: Here's coke and Pepsi and Dr. Pepper. Guys: So? Tug: So, they all have caffeine. Guys: Caffeine? Oh no.. Not that... Tug: I don 't want caffeine. Guys: Then take a Mountain Dew, or a Sunkist... Tug: You take 'em, I don't want 'em... They all have caffeine, too.
SOUTH AMERICAN BOOTleg chemists may finally have developed a pill that can produce hepatitis in human beings, according to the federal Drug Enforcement Administration: fake Quaaludes manufactured with a cheap industrial glue, to give them the glossy, crisp-edged sheen of read pharmaceutical Lemmon 714s.
THE SCENE WAS STRAIGHT out of that ultimate smuggling movie everyone keeps saying ought to be made someday: planes and guns and bales of weed, 700 miles of white-knuckle tension, and in the end, a breakneck getaway. It was a night a band of would-be smugglers, four airborne customs agents and a Tennessee sheriff will never forget.
Up Front, Inc., of Miami is licensed by the Drug Enforcement Administration to receive anonymous drug samples for chemical identification and analysis. Besides Quaaludes, the laboratory also tests any other sort of drug, from cocaine to magic mushrooms.
N A P A L I, H A W A I I MAUI WOWIE MAY BE THE most well-publicized brand of Hawaiian weed back on the mainland, but by far most of the seedless pakalolo that comes out of the Islands is grown here on Kauai. Confiscations of grass from Kauai's 500 square miles of virgin wilderness outstrip by far the "green harvest" police hauls from Maui and Oahu, and even top those from the Big Island itself.
U.S. sinsemilla growers have been watching this season's huge glut of Thai weed with the same enthusiasm Detroit automakers reserve for Japanese imports. For some years now, the struggle between these two titans of the exotic market have benefited consumers as pound prices teetered at or below the $2,000 mark.
aka: China white, fentanyl, synthetic heroin, synthetic AMF.
CHARGES: Alpha methyl fentanyl, sold as a drug of deception for heroin, or mixed with heroin, is undetectable by standard diagnosis for opiate overdose. Clandestine labs producing analogues of fentanyl can eliminate the French, Persian or any other overseas connection, making current enforcement efforts against the international narcotics trade both meaningless and useless.
The chief of Police feels he has a responsibility to do more than just wiggle his ass and look cute. There's a message in his bottle.
It could be safely assumed— one would think—that a fellow answering to the cognomen "Sting" would not be the sort of chap from whom you'd expect a spirited exegesis on the psychosocial sequelae of quantum physics. It may further be assumed that a rock 'n' roll bass player would find more personal satisfaction in discussing the relative merits of groupie pussy than in stating the historical imperative behind the Hegelian dialectic.
Holding on for dear life to a single rope, I let gravity pull on my body as my feet, placed in leather stirrups attached to the rope, began to rise until my legs formed a perfect split. Looming three stories below was a hard, cold marble floor, many gaping spectators and a guy laid out on velvet pillows waiting for me to be gracefully lowered and eased onto his waiting stiff cock.
As the Sordid Affairs Editor at HIGH TIMES, it frequently so happens that I am called upon to deliver an expert opinion regarding certain illicit drugs. "Hey, Dean," a gentleman who tanks up after work in the same overpriced, stodgy midtown tavern as I each evening asked me some little while back, ''what's Thai Stick?'' "Thai sticks?
Bred for blood and the breaking of bone, the American pit bull terrier, pound for pound, can be the most vicious creature ever to walk God's earth.
Marlboro man looks at ease, chewing his lip and matter-of-factly squeezing his cock through his jeans. His pint is three-fourths empty and he holds a Tall Boy in the same hand. A chesty teen angel crowds his elbow and peers over his forearm. Like most of the other men here, he is armed.
Maybe it's just a coincidence that the winners of the annual Connoisseur awards (the "Herbies") are chosen at the same time of the year as the Oscars. But by now the excitement and controversy surrounding the annual announcement of "R."'s awards has risen to a nationwide frenzy of anticipation and speculation that rivals the excitement surrounding the movie-industry ceremony.
It all began the night the moonmen landed. I was lying on my rack, considering the night's entertainment options. Crabby could "borrow" the sergeant major's car again. We could all drop acid, drive up to Disneyland and harass the boots on their first liberty from Camp Pendleton.
five different hydroponic systems and how to construct them
If you've ever grown a backyard tomato, or kept a coleus alive through the winter, you have all the expertise needed to grow hydroponically. Quite simply, hydroponics is the method of cultivating plants without using soil. The plants are grown in a nonnutritive medium such as gravel or sand, or in lightweight, man-made materials such as perlite, vermiculite (a mineral-mica nutrient base) or Styrofoam.
In the hallowed tradition of "Grow American," our monthly marijuana column, we figured we'd take it easy this time `round and have our readers amuse themselves with their own goddamn pictures of cocaine.
SANITATION AUTHORITIES completed lightning cleanup of day-before-yesterday’s terror windstorm with daring daylight extraction of a wad of trash paper from elm sapling on West 384th Street. Number of casualties sustained during cleanup operation was not released, but municipal chiefs express confidence in ability to handle aftermath of any future meteorlogical terror attacks.
Undertaker Gets New Slant on Jo b, Thanks to MUGGO!!
County assistant medical examiner Jackson Rufus was only taking home $164.98 after taxes, before playing MUGGO. Now his family's getting over $200 a week in life insurance and veteran's benefits! Ja ckson's last words, as we opened the trunk of the black limousine on the sha dy back road, and he looked up into the 9mm Brown ing automatic pointed be tween his eyes, were, "Say what?" Lovely Anne/me Batheu s-Perault was a 19-year-old exchange student from Belgium, when she hap pened to spy MUGGO win nér Jackson Rufus being dragged into a black limou sine, and was stupid eno ugh to scream aloud.
Just send us, neatly typed, on a 4"x5" file card, your name, address, social security number, any credit-card numbers, estimated annual income, list of any bank accounts, names of four closest loved ones and sketch of the route you take on the way home from work, OTB office, tavern or whatever.
AMERICANS HAVE been put through the royal wringer again, with the disgusting payoff in taxpayer funds of $11,800 to underwrite the Jamaican junket of Rep. Stanley Schliepmann, ranking majority member of the House Select Committee on Crime.
PRES. RONALD REAGAN charged congressional opposition with “premeditated pettifogging” as he submitted his 15th budgetreorganization scheme for approval. Saying the U.S. economy is ‘ ‘too complicated and important to be left up to a pack of lard-bucket lawyers, alcoholics and Baltimore prostitute clients,’’REagan threatened to control federal budget henceforth by a one-man executive edict if Washington lawmakers take more than five days to approve the new reorganization pain.
IN THE COMMONWEALth of Masachusetts, which hereto fore had been regarded as a veritable Arcadia of privikege and common sense, in the classic Painean definition of an abundance of judgment amid an abundance of material comfort, we now hear rumors of discontented men in white sheets congregating in mortgaged split-level garages to preach race hatred and burn crosses.
AS SOON AS OUR PRESIdent said the first tiny little thing about revising the Civil Rights Act, predictably, we saw mobs of Negros protesting viciously against it. When Ronald Reagan breathed the slightest criticism of abortion, legions of women instantly erupted into seething venom.
1001 THOUGHTS ABOUT DRUGS TWENTIETH OF A MONTHLY SERIES
261 As WE ALWAYS USED TO SAY, GAGE is more of a medicine than a dope. But with all the riggermaroo going on, no one can do anything about it. After all, the vipers during my haydays are way up there in age—too old to suffer those drastic penalties.
THE STORY BEGINS IN THE rural south of Arkansas, a blues stronghold that nurtured the likes of Howlin' Wolf and provided the best possible natural training ground for young musicians like Levon Helm, who heard all he needed to know at the local dance halls and juke joints where the music burned all night long.
ANOTHER YEAR HAS PASSED and once again I've managed to live through St. Patrick's Day, the Yankee Mardi Gras that always has more than its share of hell-raising moments. Having plotted out a potential parade route of my own up Eighth Avenue several weeks before, I was well armed for the marathon festivities.
HOW'S THIS FOR A MOVIE SCENARIO? A ROMANCE BETWEEN A WOMAN NAMED Sarah and a Senegalese gunrunner named Maas—an interracial love affair at that. This liaison takes place against the backdrop of the struggle of African liberation forces in Namibia, a uranium-rich nation that until 1966 was under the trusteeship of reactionary South Africa.
Why me? Why not Barkin, that walkin' talkin' bundle of associate-editor neuroses. Or Barone, our art director, a prime candidate for a little metaphysical centering. Or even, God knows, Latimer, Mr. Sordid Affairs himself. Ol' Dean could definitely use a little introduction to a tank full of water, even if it was chock-full of Epsom salts.