You Cant Judge A Book By Its...Hair?

It was a day like any other day. I had just hitched back to the valley after spending the weekend in Malibu. I caught the bus in Woodland Hills and headed east down Venture Blvd. Sitting on the bus with my gear and a portable radio I noticed this guy across the way talking to the guy next to him and pointing his finger at me. At this point I should let you know, as some of you already do, that at times I would let my hair grow, sometimes down to my shoulders, and then shave it off. At the time of this incident my hair was close to nonexistent. The guy across the aisle had hair past his shoulders. His voice got louder and there were occasional glances in my direction. I heard the words skin head and punk a couple times. Apparently he was trying to instigate something. I was too stoned to care. After a while he turned to me, and noting my radio, asked me what station I had it tuned to. I replied that I didn't know, that I usually listen to tapes. You remember cassettes dont you? Those things that were replaced by cds, which are now being replaced by downloads. "I'll buy you a beer if you have it tuned to 97.1 KLSX."

We'll be back after this message.

There was this guy named Larry who was living in L.A. at the time. He was convinced that KLSX was part of a conspiracy by Jerry Falwell and the moral majority promoting abstinence
or something of that ilk. He would always say "KLSX, Less sex, do you get it?" Apparently not many in So. Cal. did.

So I hand the guy my radio and he turns it on, "Hey, I owe you a beer. Get off where I get off."
So some where around Sherman Oaks or Studio City we hopped of and went to Round Table pizza. As it turns out the guys name was Phil, hippie Phil as I refered to him. It seemed as tho this was a hang out of his. He bought about four pitchers of beer, bought one pizza and got a second free due to some one not picking up there order. So over a few hours we wound up talking about the Grateful Dead, LSD, and Charles Manson. I can imagine that it was an interesting picture Hippie Phil and Skin Head Paul, carrying on, tossing back beers and stepping outside for some "fresh aire." Well it was time for the pizza place to close, but we were still thirsty, so down the road we went.

We came across a Vons or Ralphs or whatever supermarket and went in to buy some beer. We went in and I asked if there was a restroom I could use. Upon returning to the front I see these potted plants all over the floor. At least twenty plants strewn about by the check out aisles. I asked Phil what happened. "They wouldn't sell me any beer." I apologized to the cashier and started walking him to the exit. We were almost out when four security guards stepped in front of us. "Come on man, we're almost out. Just lets us go." "You can go" one answered back to me, "but he's got to stay." Now these security guards were huge. They should have been working as body guards for the rich and famous. And why does a grocery store need so many on a sunday nite. These guys go to detain hippie Phil and I see them pick him up. They had him lifted about chest high, face down, and then they let him drop. It was the proverbial sack of wet cement. His body hit the floor, then smack, his head hit the linoleum. He looked up at me. I saw one drop of blood followed by a second, then a torrent of blood. He looked at me and said "Get the fuck out of here, the cops are coming."

Despite all the trips I took thru Topanga Canyon where Phil said he lived, I never saw him again.
Thanks for the beer and pizza. Wonder how long his hair is now.

check out www.mansonfamilytoday.info there is a song written by Charlie and performed by the Family recently posted on there. Would make for a good bluegrass tune.