...Kesey's been up to his old tricks again, and wouldn't you know it little old me gets caught up in the fracas yet again. After finding a parking spot for that godawful bus on the astral plane smack dab in front of the Church of Jim, Jimi and Janis, he starts quoting something from George Carlin about if God dropped acid would he see people and starts passing out the Kool-Aid. Before you know it Wavy Gravy's jumping up and down yelling, "No Rogain, No Rogain!" and Baba Ram Dass launches into this long diatribe about the reincarnation of liquid wax as paste wax in the next life. Timothy Leary tells Jerry Garcia he can be anything he wants the next time around, why not a hand surgeon. William Burroughs is sitting in the back seat, counting how many times he chants "Hare Krshna, Hare Krshna," and oiling his 12-gauge over-and-under. John Lennon asks Carlos Castaneda if he's got any peyote, and Carlos answers no, but he found Garcia's finger in his dreams. Leary pipes up and claims that Don Juan asked him about medicinal plants used in religious rituals when he was in jail in Mexico and by the way Bill, was it you who volunteered that package of morphine suppositories in lieu of bail? Carlos turns to me for pencil and paper me but I realize that Cassady left his pocket knife on the counter and return to the bar to find jello in various forms of lurid and fetid metamorphosis strewn about the floor and walls. It dawns on me that I am way too old to be criss-crossing these synaptic junctions and rerouting neural pathways. I need a drink. bbc, I don't envy you your job....