THEY WERE ECSTATIC AT MY APPEARANCE. Didn't even bother to follow up on all the references, although I spent the week after Woodstock purchasing a little hippie credibility. (Ron? . . . Nathan in East Bay says he's okay. . . . Two steps removed and even a G-man can become a friend of Free!) The lab had gone an extra step to make my brown beauties, so it was easy to limit the synthesis and come out with actual LSD. It was a moment of lucid genius to start with a blank slate: get the boys producing the real McCoy and jump on this euphoric bandwagon, if only long enough to get a hand on the brake! So for now I give them orange and let them call it sunshine.
It gets so I almost want to keep it clean, go green, be part of this not-so-secret, awfully ingenuous so-called society of brotherhoods and communes, intentional communities and counter cultures--it's almost enough, the brightness of their glazed grins when I show them the stuff. Geez, if it makes them that happy, let 'em have it! But then ghosts of great patriots since Jefferson call out in gruff Hosanna, "No! That's exactly the attitude that dissolves the national fabric!" Better to beat them at their own game: talk fast and carry a big shtick.