Showing posts with label hepped up on goofballs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hepped up on goofballs. Show all posts

April 3, 2013

From 1975: The Stoned Rollers


Some pictures are like a gift from God.  
This picture is like if God gave me His million-dollar check from Publishers Clearing House, saying, "Here, I am The Lord Almighty.  I don't need it."

October 2, 2012

If It's October, Then It Must Mean Laura's Sinuses Are Staging A Violent Revolt That Involves Big Green Boogers


1958

(By the way, you guys have seen The Vintage Ad Browser, right?  It's where I, *ahem,* acquire so much of my great stuff.  It's a wonderful resource.  Be forewarned, though: you will lose hours and hours browsing through all the goodies 
they have over there.)

January 7, 2012

When Beelzebub Joins America's Fight Against Post-Nasal Drip

"Anahist"...sounds more like "Anti-Christ" to this blogger!
What Byron Caran doesn't tell you is that there were black robes, drippy candles, and pentagrams involved in their miraculous recovery. Things really got wacky when Mom sacrificed The Beaver to their Dark Lord! (And what a mess!)


June 24, 2011

If It's Friday, That Must Mean That I Am Having Meds-Related Hallucinations Where, In My Mind, It's 1981

The only thing that can be said about this tune: Fuck yeah!

This tune is off a brilliant album called Worlds Apart. Yes, I own it, and it rocks. It rocks so very, very hard.

Saga is from Canada, the land of other such brilliant bands as Rush and Loverboy.

This tune peaked at #26 on the Billboard pop chart in March 1983. (Is it just me, but was the fall of 1982 to the summer of 1983 a particularly splendid time for music?)



Now, pardon me. I have to shove a wad of Chewels in my mouth in defiance as my Dad banishes me from the dinner table yet again for declaring that Ronald Reagan Is The Biggest Disaster To Have Ever Befallen This Country.

(p.s. I miss you, Dad.)

November 30, 2010

This Early Seventies PSA Just Makes Me Want To Do Drugs Even More

I mean, isn't the point of this clip that drugs will cause you to star in your own super-groovy episode of Scooby Doo, along with Mama Cass and The Harlem Globetrotters?

Or Don Knotts? Or Jerry Reed?



Christ, I need a Scooby Snack. Where's the peppermint bark (get it? bark? Scooby Doo was a dog? No?) I bought the other day?