We were in the middle of a High-Level Executive Meeting, brain storming cover stories for our landmark 150th issue, when Ed Hassle (whose Grateful Dead cover idea became the best-selling HIGH TIMES of 1987) asked "Why not put Pink Floyd on the cover?" “They ’ re too popular.
Note from the editors: In response to the barrage of letters we received requesting a Pink Floyd special issue, the ink-stained pages you hold in your hands are our answer. So skip the letters and turn to page 36. If we have a right to say no, doesn’t that mean we also have the right to say yes?
The issue of examining human liquid waste in search of smoking-gun evidence of drug use/abuse continues to catalyze public outrage and judicial pronouncement. While the concept of bodily privacy still receives occasional lip service, more often the sanctity of the physical person is pushed aside and the probing eye of Big Uncle locked in, cloaked with the code words of “protecting public safety.”
Five years ago this magazine looked like it was headed for oblivion. Lately, however, an amazing turnabout has taken place. One indication of the trend is the unexpected coverage given our contributors. In the past few months, both Chef Ra and Bram (aka Dr. Indoors) have become well-known celebrities in their respective hometowns.
Do you have access to your employer's urine-testing guidelines? Why not send a copy to HIGH TIMES, 211 East 43rd Street, 20th floor, New York, NY 10017. We'd like to see 'em, and maybe print 'em as well. Look for this continuingly entertaining series to begin next month...
In a decision that should help end mandatory drug testing but is, for now, continuing the establishment of an "elite class” who are exempt from urinalysis, the New York City Police Department was barred from forcing members of its Organized Crime Control Bureau to undergo mandatory, random drug tests.
Living cells have the capacity to chemically transform most active ingestants. Whether this foreign chemical is a drug, medication, pollutant, or foodstuff, the body changes it through a chemical process; most often this results in a new chemical, less active than the original, and more easily excreted.
DOORS OF LITIGATION— TWO hundred pages of songs and poetry, written by Jim Morrison after he quit rock' n’roll and moved to Paris, are being held up in a court battle. The manuscripts were found in a strongbox marked “127 Fascination” which belonged to Morrison’s common-law wife, Pamela.
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I speak to a lot of friends down in the USA, and and I can't believe the prices you people pay for pot! You can get top-quality Hawaiian in Toronto for $250 (Canadian), that’s $175 US. The growers in and around Toronto are growing the very best pot there is.
D-Lysergic acid diethylamide tartrate Delysid, a.k.a. LSD-25, was American youth's greatest gift, and the fact we have misunderstood and misused it shows what frivolous ingrates we really are. Acid offered the one big chance to escape life's psychic garbage, which, twenty years after the psychedelic era's bellyflop, has now piled up above our noses.
Pink Floyd was an essential part of the soundtrack to the '60s psychedelic renaissance—the era when our collective unconscious was turned inside-out and paradedi around the streets like a flashy new wardrobe. Though the Pink Floyd name has survived through 23 years of subsequent history, the band has had four distinct musical incarnations, each with its own devoted cult of raving and drooling fans.
Piper at the Gates of Dawn (Columbia UK, Tower US), released August '67. The only completely Syd Barrett Floyd LP. A Saucerful of Secrets (Columbia UK, Tower US), released June ’68. This one has three songs with Barrett, and four with new guitarist David Gilmour.
For the true aficionados of lowbrow culture, the name Gary Panter occupies a position of reverence atop the slag heap of our rude and raunchy underground. Of all the subversive art-demons to infect the popular media—from the halcyon days of Ed "Big Daddy" Roth's Rat Fink and Robert Williams, to today's gross-me-out Garbage Pail Kids— Panter has been one of the gnarliest mutants to penetrate the good graces of American trash consumerism.
At 5:30 am the alarm went off, and I was cast out of dreamland into the pre-dawn twilight of a new day. My horse, E.T., ate alfalfa while I drank mocha-java and munched granola. After breakfast, we headed for the mountains. E.T. radiated heat on a mass calorie burn, her nostrils steaming, mane flying, as we ripped across the mesa, hooves pounding a rapid fire beat.
I’m an engineer who designs grow rooms for a living. My methods usually increase the output of grow rooms by 100 to 300 percent without having to change the way you raise your plants. How do I do this? By increasing packing density. Most growers deal with only two dimensions—I deal with three.
This month’s winners have been chosen with the help of Mike from the office of New Zealand NORML. This is a picture of a plant that was harvested two months early. It is a sativa strain. It grew excellently in a record Michigan summer. Not only did the plant reach six feet tall, it was grown in a rather populated area.
I'm at Angel's house, lying either on the floor or on the ceiling. Her grass is as legendary as she is. She grows for the high, often as many as 15 different varieties— simultaneously—in one small closet! Much is given away; lately to AIDS patients on chemotherapy.
"That," says Jesse Crumb, pointing across the green valley and toward the purple hills, “is where the sheriff and his deputies had a face-off with the marijuana cultivators. The chopper landed there; the jeeps lined up in a row; the deputies loaded their M-16s.
Coma is the world's largest and most powerful com mercially produced bong. It's made from durable, heavy-gauge, heat-resistant plastic and comes with a cherrywood, lacquered base and stand, huge party bowl, carburetor hose, and tapered mouthpiece. Coma is not for the faint—which is why it adjusts from its full 5½' length to six other sizes. Great conversation piece. Price: $49.50 (+ $6.00 postage). From: Rush Hours, 103 Washington Street, Suite 363, Morristown, NJ 07960, or call (201) 366-0032.
You need to water your plants only once every three weeks (instead of every week) after applying a radically different soil additive known as Water Grabber. A teaspoonful of the stuff sprinkled into holes around your plant soaks up as much as a pint of water, holding it jelly-like near the plant’s roots until needed. A single application is effective for three to five years. Water Grabber is available to the retail market for the first time from: Morris International Corp., 263 Kelly St., Lake City, SC 29560, (803) 394-3586. Five four-gram packets are $2.29; each ( + $1 postage); a four-ounce pack is $8.99 ( + $1.50); and a one-pound bag is $29.99 ( + $3.00). Check, money order, Master Charge/Visa accepted.
Unlimited expansion from one reservoir—fifty-five gallons and up! An 8’ x 8’ system grows a minimum of 98 adult, individually harvestable plants fast! Fully automated! Any configuration! Portable! Minimal maintenance! Roots are oxygenated and fed in an enclosed chamber, bypassing grow-media-related problems—such as shifting pH and excess humidity—without the nightmares of internal sprays. Uses easily-available, plastic drinking glasses. This professional system could be the standard for years to come. Building on the advancements of the Good Buddy—Kyle Roq introduces the Super Buddy! Mail order and info from: Higher Yield, 712 Wilshire, Suite 12, Santa Monica, CA 90401, (213) 394-6777. Call for showroom locations in Los Angeles, San Diego, and Denver. (Thanks Kyle!)
Six-foot-three Lee Marvin, Hollywood's greatest post-war movie tough guy, died last year at 63 from a heart attack. After being expelled from several boarding schools he joined the Marines at 17 and was a scout sniper in the Pacific. He was buried at Arlington with full military honors, but where are all the Marvin weeks on TV? Where are the specially-priced boxed sets of Marvin videos?
The White of the Eye should prove that the casting of Cathy Moriarity as Robert De Niro's husky, blonde punching-bag of a wife in Raging Bull was no fluke—her performance in this unclassifiable thriller about a serial killer is the year's best and her presence is positively ethereal.
Lester Bangs died in 1981, America's best-known—and best—rock critic. That's sad, not only that he died young (age 33; killed by that New York hazard the six-floor walk-up, which he attempted to negotiate on Darvons; his heart gave out), but that he is to be remembered as a rock critic.
Deb Parker's motto is "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere." Deb not only goes everywhere, she runs the place! Deb books, promotes, and/or manages half a dozen joints in New York City, including The Strip, which features psychedelic bands and rave-up sleaze, Girlstown ("Where Wild Women Rule!"), the Den of Iniquity ("Real Go Go Girl Gone!"), and Mod Tee Pee, which features a two-rock'n'roll-band-night every Thursday at the Pyramid Club.
Ronnie Dawson—Back in 1957 the 17-year old "Blond Bomber" of Dallas, Texas first entered the recording studio to cut the first of a handful of classic discs that would bear his legacy, "Action Packed" (Backbeat, a subsidiary of the R&B giant Duke records).