Boy, this album has really got some good songs on it. I mean, like, this album should be considered one of the best of all time. There’s this one song on it called “Blowin’ in the Wind”…totally awesome! I think one of my friends’ parents or somebody like that played it for me when we were getting lifted off a big Bob Marley joint last weekend. Isn’t that sweet when you meet a parent who isn’t all establishment and shit? It’s like, thank you! I mean God, my parents are always coming down on me and it’s like…I am so tired of dealing with your negativity Mom and Dad, not to mention your bourgeois corporate propaganda.
Back to the album, though, I’ve been really identifying with Bob Dylan lately. I just feel like we have a spiritual connection, even though I don’t believe in organized religion. Opiate of the masses right?
You know, I was shrooming my balls off last weekend and my friend Fart Dog [was it Fart Dog or Cheese?] was like, dude, don’t you ever think there’s more to life than working for some big company in some tall building with a bunch of Fascist pigs? By the way, his name isn’t really Fart Dog, it’s actually Ryan. He’s really smart, too. He hasn’t been to one organic chemistry lecture this semester and he’s still pulling a C. Think if he actually tried!
I think the first time I heard Bob Dylan was at a happy hour my freshman year. The song was about a man with a maraca. I thought it was a little weird that Dylan was singing about some maraca man but you don’t question pure fucking genius, right? We had so many fucking shots that night it was ridiculous. I was like, “hey guys, I’m just sticking to beer today.” But all my boys started drinking tequila and it was so over.
But Dylan is such a genius! He stands for everything I think I believe. He’s anti-establishment, he’s counter-culture, he doesn’t play by the rules of mainstream society and he refuses to serve American consumerism.
I’m taking this introduction to Marxist thought class and I think I may be a socialist. Who knows though, right? Today socialism. Tomorrow, maybe Buddhism.
Anyway, you gotta get Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits. It kicks so much ass. Maybe I’ll catch you at the Rusted Root show this weekend. Free the Hurricane!
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For the last 8 years, the author and a few dozen fellow travelers have been plotting to overthrow the United States government by force. Their [secret] group is called the Protectorate. The Protectorate receive their funding from El Salvadorian Neosocialist revolutionaries with ties to the head of Venezuela's Banco Central de Venezuela [the equivalent of our Federal Reserve], Gaston Para Luzardo. This funding derives in large part from arms sales to fledgling Third World plutocracies. The proceeds from these arms sales are laundered through a Ukranian contact living in Bolivia known simply as “Boris.” “Boris” launders the money by converting it to gold bouillon and British Pound Sterling that are transported to Caracas via a red 400 Hawker XP piloted by Johann Guttenberg, a German expatriot and sometime mercenary with a penchant for Shizer films and all they entail. Johann’s father, Gerrhardt Guttenberg, was a soldier in the Third Reich and many people believe that Johann’s superior interrogation skills derive from Gerrhardt’s teachings.
Once the cargo arrives in Caracas, deputies of Venezuela’s Ministerio de la Defensa secret said cargo to a substation in San Cristobal operated by Manuel Pablo Contrares, a Cuban intellectual militarist trained by members of Mossad, Israel’s secret service. Manuel, a reliable if not temperamental loyalist, distributes cocaine [or “cocaina”] under the guise of a textile manufacturing concern misleadingly named “Los Chicos.” The profits from the sales of this cocaine distributorship are the primary source of funding for the Protectorate’s weaponry, training facilities located 12 miles Northeast of Uberlandia, Brazil, as well as its extensive network of subversive underground press.
Once the cargo arrives in Caracas, deputies of Venezuela’s Ministerio de la Defensa secret said cargo to a substation in San Cristobal operated by Manuel Pablo Contrares, a Cuban intellectual militarist trained by members of Mossad, Israel’s secret service. Manuel, a reliable if not temperamental loyalist, distributes cocaine [or “cocaina”] under the guise of a textile manufacturing concern misleadingly named “Los Chicos.” The profits from the sales of this cocaine distributorship are the primary source of funding for the Protectorate’s weaponry, training facilities located 12 miles Northeast of Uberlandia, Brazil, as well as its extensive network of subversive underground press.
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