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short bus degenerates number four
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defacing the brown cow at the end of the universe
Introduction:
Ok, I guess that it's time to stop calling you kids retards. Actually, I
have found out that there are no retards that could even comprehend the
intelligent ramblings that are put forth in this magazine. So, shall we
discover who our readers are? Hmmmmm.....stoners, nerds, freaks, punks,
homicidal people, dead people, necropheliacs, and many other groups of
people.
Who does lettuce wish would read SBD? Ween, George Clinton, Kool Keith,
John Waters, and last but not least... Jerry Falwell. The first four being
some cool motherfuckers, and the last being some religious nut who needs
to open his closed mind.
Remember, kiddos:
A bong ain't just for smoking pot in... what else can you use a bong for?
-smoking bud
-smoking herb
-smoking ganja
-smoking mota
-smoking weed
NO! NO! NO! LETTUCE!!!! NAUGHTY!!!! BAD!!!!!!!!
what?
THOSE ARE NICKNAMES FOR POT!
so? what should I do?
WHAT IF YOUR GRANDMOTHER BOUGHT A BONG? WHAT WOULD SHE USE IT FOR?
oh.... well....
if gramma bought a bong.... with no knowledge of what it was? let me think
-plant flowers in it
-use it as a pitcher to water flowers with
-use it as a hummingbird feeder
-use it as a tea pot
-smoke herb in it?
shit.... i have run out of ideas...
Smelly Socks at the End of the Line:
Mishwig dog is the only thought on my mind as I hang up my cloak and dagger.
My killing fields have been destroyed by the sexual-liberation junkies
who shoot semen into their arms as the bloody vortex climbs the backs
of the unwilling beastie goats. My veins speak of cosmic cataclysims that
mask the true reasons for living. Why are the homeless homo hobos clutching
their eyes in fear of the dead and wounded that lie around them. My brain
explodes into a display of pink and aqua-marine fireworks piercing the
blood-red night sky. Stick a needle into your eye, cross your heart, and
hope to die? Maybe an amended version would read "stick a needle in your
vein, slit your brain, and die in pain." Nothing could take away the
horrors spoken to me in the blissful sidewalks of mercy, at least not
while I fall in the pit of life every time that I rise. Chasing the
better life, yet bitterness is merely a foot-fall away, washing out the
footprints in the sand before I have a chance to see the divine being
who tries to comfort my troubled mind.
Mishwig Dog?
Dominate the mastermind, melt into a cosmic dance infiltrated by the
masturbatory-mind. Bliss of the toadstool father reaches into my
troubled soul and comforts it when all seemed lost. No more feelings
of helplessness shadow my soul while I blissfully breathe the pure air
on the plateau. Now I again see the footprints on the sand as the
heavenly father walks with me in the sand. Maybe the words of the
spirits will speak well of me in the great beyond that awaits all
good men. I shall never know, but maybe I can dream of it.
What's New in Lettuce's Vinyl Collection:
Weezer-Self Titled 2001:Released on green vinyl. Definitely a must have!
I find this one a very enjoyable listen. Also, don't forget to pick up
a copy of the Hashpipe single, with the b-side being a song called "I Do."
Grade:B+
If you can find this next one on vinyl, get it. I have only been able to
find the CD.
Funkadelic-Standing on the Verge of Getting it On:One ass kicking 1974
release by Funkadelic! The two best parts about this album are:The spoken
intro to the second side: "Hey baby won't you be my dog, and I'll be your
tree, and you can pee on my. We won't do you no harm, other than pee in
your afro." and the second song on the second side, a Zappa-influenced
number called "Jimmy's Got a Little Bit of Bitch in Him," or something
like that. Go buy this one right now. Finish reading this text later.
Grade:A-
Harry Pothead and the Sorcerer's Stoned: part 2
Harry walked back home to his lair, or maybe he stumbled. After
smoking as much herb as he just did, I have no idea how he got home.
Being as stoned as he was, he immediately went to work on some more
material for his newest trip-hop album. After about five minutes, though,
he found that his heart was not truely engrossed in the activity as it
usually was.
"Maybe I should consider that white rasta's invitation to that
joint called 'Bongwart's School of Beotchcraft and Bongizardry.'" he
thought to himself as he packed his bong. "Hmmmm... maybe I could be a
bud-professor."
It was just at this moment that a giant pitcher of 'bong-ade' came
crashing through his door. "Hey, mon, the pseudo-rasta is on his way, but
while we wait, can I pour you a nice cold refreshing glass of 'herbal' tea?
Oh yeah, here is something else for you too," the giant pitcher of bud
tea said to Harry as it poured him a glass of tea and handed him a letter.
Harry tore open the letter and read in astonishment, "This letter
says, 'Hoooooooly sheeeeooooottttt, nigga, yo ass has been accepted into
tha mutha fuckin Bongwart's School of Beotchcraft and Bongizardry! You
betta recognize, fool, or someone's gonna shove their gat in yo mouth!'
This is some crazy shit man!" Harry Pothead said with joy in his voice.
"That's not all, mon," said the Anglo-Rasta as he made his
entrance. "If you go now, we'll give you two complimentary flow-bee
home hair clipper attachments absolutely free! Just call our toll-free
number... oh shit, wrong promotion. Oh yeah... here is the right script...
Come with me, little one, and I'll show you my BBS. SHIT! Still the
wrong damn promotion... you wouldn't have any use for a 'free blow-job
pass,' or a 'free gas money pass,' would you, Harry?"
"You must have the wrong Harry, dude. We were talking about the
Bongwart's school." said a befuddled Harry Pothead.
"Oh yeah. At the school, you can bring either a bong, papers, or
a 'tobacco pipe.' Yeah, I know that it's a BOWL, but at my shop you have
to use the 'real' terms. Also, your reggae loving parents left you one
hell of a stash at the 'Marley Bud Trust Bank.' Come with me and we'll
pick up some of that extremely rasta-dank, get us some smoking tools,
and be on our way."
"Many thanks, dude. I guess that we'll be off. By the way, I
never caught your name," said an excited Harry.
"Oh, it's Red. Panama Red," spoke the reggaejunkiejew.
They went off to buy a new hooka for Harry, and to make an herbal
withdrawl at the bud bank, and soon were off to the train station. Red
than bid a temporary farewell to Harry.
"Well, mon, I have some dealings...err...business arrangements
to make, but I'll be seeing you at the school. Don't forget your rubbers,
and go to platform 420 to board your train," said Red, right before he
vanished in a thick green smoke.
"Fuck! Where in the fuck am I gonna find platform 420. There are
12 platforms at this station," said Harry to himself. He looked at platform
4, hoping that it might be the one. No such luck. He then noticed a man
with a party hooka smoking away in the center of platform 4. Harry went
up to talk to the man.
"Yo, do you know anything about a platform 420, mang?" asked
Harry.
"Here, take this tube and take a big hit. It will then suck you
inside, then transport you to platform 420," said the man.
"This is some weird shit," Harry thought to himself as he took a
big hit. The next thing he knew, he was standing on a single platform with
a train made of ganja in front of it. The smoke coming from the stacks on
the front car smelled very familar. Some stoner was standing next to the
door of the passenger car saying, "get on, tune in, but please don't drop
out, man. I dropped one too many hits of acid earlier today, and I feel
like I am melting! I am meeeeeeeelting! Oh shit, I am a carrot!"
Harry convinced the man that he was still human, and that he
was still in a solid form, and that he might want to stay away from any
police officers for a while, and then Harry boarded the peace train.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Wow. That was fun. Also coming to a theatre soon is the first of the
"Lord of the Rings" movies. I don't even need to write a parody of this
one, because a good one has already been written. It is called "Bored
of the Rings," and was written by the Harvard Lampoon. I don't know it
it's still in print, but if it is, it's a real winner!
Just to clue you in, instead of one of the Hobbits being names Bilbo,
his name in the parody is Dildo.
Grade:A+
Conclusion:
I had loads of fun with this issue, and I hope that you did too, dear
reader. Remember, if you ever have any questions about life, or any
other matters of importance to humans, I am here for you. I love all
of my readers, and I will have to say that you all kick ass! Until
next time...
TTFN,
Lettuce!
