Mish-mashy Hodge Podge in Normal entries

Have a flat keyboard and panama red. They are only related in the most subjective of ways. Pre-panama red, over a week ago, I busted one of the pull-out foot’s on the keyboard. It’s either leaning tower of Pisa it or type flat. If you’re used to typing with a raised keyboard and you have doubts that there’s such a thing as tactile depth perception, bust half a keyboard foot. It’s not that typing is difficult, it’s that it’s strange, like losing color or the tenor range of hearing.

Yesterday was 4/20, for some reason a big day in the marijuana community. Yes, I know, 4/20 has been slang for getting high for a few decades now. I just don’t know why. It’s Adolph Hitlers birthday, but I doubt stoners universally think that’s a good reason to make 4/20 synonymous with getting high. I used to think it’s the time when some high school got out, a theory I still like, I just haven’t figured out which school. Um, the point is … oh, yeah, all the dispensaries in town had sales and incentives. I always get things with a name I recognize, which, so far, has been Acapulco gold and panama red. They are both modernized, bred for THC. The gold is just high-end skunk with the name Acapulco gold. The red, however, tastes and looks like panama red would if bred with a lizard brain high end skunk.

Drugs and keyboards … oh, yeah. My personal study, done with just the one sampler but almost sixty years of samples, has discovered a fairly predictable truth. By the third season, on average, screenwriters take the same wrong turn; they start explaining shit. The dialogue goes from intuitive to expository. Happens in a lot of movie sequels too. It would be easy to explain by too many drugs, but, just as easily, would be chronic sobriety. It could be introspection; the realization that many of us come to, the world might learn what a fraud we are.

It can just be me and those who felt we were close enough to confide said feeling to me, can it?

Um, now that I’m twenty minutes into a panama red buzz, something that’s been thirty some odd years in the coming, I recognize the similarities and am reeling a tad from the differences. Modern marijuana is like drinking everclear; a little goes a long way, assuming you get and that little in you.

Even back in the day it was hard to come by. I’m pretty sure that song, panama red, written in the early seventies by the underrated new riders of the purple sage, might have been written for nostalgia. It wasn’t easy to get panama red in the early seventies either. You didn’t need to worry about keyboard feet either, your keyboard had a typewriter attached to it and stood at least 18 inches off the desk. Not saying a sober rider of the purple sage created on a typewriter, just saying that’s not fucking likely.

Wow. I’m going to state my excuse; I need to step away for a bit. I’m red all over and white and blue.

About forty-five minutes later. I had something hysterically funny about colonel sanders, but I lost it. It was about Colonel Sanders, how funny could it really have been. Going back under. In case of emergency call the emergency number, that’s 911 in most of the lower forty-eight.

Ok, shit, it’s a whole other day, a sunset and sunrise later. I have little or nothing to say. I’m much older than I think I am. Some things I want to do need a nap first, after or during. Want and need aren’t used here to the full extent of their meaning, respectively, but close enough for government work.

You know this happy horseshit will get posted anyhow, the biggest clue being that you’re reading it, or made an effort to try too. I have no idea where the phrase happy horseshit originated, it’s etymology, or even why it’s so often apropos. It must refer to the horse and not the shit. To the best of my knowledge no other animal’s shit has emotions attributed to it in an old saying; not in English. I’d be mildly shocked if there weren’t German expressions similar to happy horseshit.

I’d try to tie this altogether but that would involve reading it, wincing at typos and just bad sentences. One of the most miserable things about all this digital paperwork is the inability to rip it up. Ripping up bad writing is cathartic, highlighting and pressing a delete or backspace button is tedious if you allow that tedium can be short-lived.

I’m going to shut the fuck up and try to remember what it was about Colonel sanders that was so all fired hilarious.