‘Twas the night before Christmas, and it wouldn’t be drab

Cuz’ we’d scored some great acid and were dropping a tab;

We’d spread scented candles to perfume the air,

And rolled up a plateful of doobies to share;

While the squares of the world lay all snug in their beds,

Visions of sugar-plums danced in our heads;

My old lady was knitting a warm wooly cap,

And Trips, our cat, was taking a nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

In case it was narcs, I flew like a flash,

Closed up the shutters and hid all the hash.

The hits I had dropped were just kicking in

I watched the lights flash and the furniture spin,

When, what to my dilating pupils appeared,

But a Volkswagen van, full of mushrooms and beer,

With a little old driver, so lively and merry,

I knew in a moment it had to be Jerry.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Pigpen! now, Mickey! now, Bobby and Phil !

On, Janis! on Jimi! and our other drummer,
Bill!

Set up in the living room, in front of the wall!

Then jam away! jam away! jam away all!”

They tuned up their instruments and started to play,

each song that they started was as long as the day,

Then came a drum solo, especially long,

Jerry put down his guitar and lit up a bong.

And then, he drew in one last mighty toke

And disappeared from sight in a big cloud of smoke.

As I looked at my hand, and my fingers made trails,

Down the chimney came Jerry like an escapee from jail

He was dressed all in hemp, in a trippy new suit,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of hacky sacks flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His pupils were like saucers! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth said “I’ve brought you some blow”,

And on the table he threw a bag full of snow;

A stump of a hash pipe he held in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a diabetic elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And cut up some lines; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

He snorted a line and up his nostrils it rose;

He sprang up again with new jump in his step,

I’d never seen a hippy move with such pep.

As he left he exclaimed, from the van where he was,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-buzz.”

Let’s keep rolling with the disqualified contestants from the homoerotic photo contest. This one was a no-brainer. Freddy Mercury was disqualified because he’s gay. While this might seem discriminatory, I would like to re-iterate: there is nothing, in my mind, inherently funny about homoeroticism. The whole point of this rather pointless contest was to revel in the irony of straight guys (primarily from the world of heavy metal) dolling themselves up in a misguided attempt to turn on the ladies.

Having said that, there is something pretty great about the outfit Freddy’s wearing. My 3-year old son has a pair of pajamas that kind of look like this (without the sequins) and whenever he wears them I say “hey, sing Bohemian Rhapsody for me”. He doesn’t know I’m busting on him…..heh heh heh. So to get things perfectly clear, homoeroticism: not funny. Busting on your 3-year old: funny.

Thanks (for a second straight week) to Chris from Inane Thoughts and Ramblings for this picture.

“Would you like a wiener with your beans?”

OK, I’ve done a thing or two in my life that I can look upon with pride. I have kids, for instance. That’s pretty good. Also I have a legion of ZZ Top fans who hang on my every word and follow me to the bathroom and stuff. That’s a little unsettling, but I’ll never lack for barbecue.

Anyway, I thought my life was pretty full before, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

I’m linked on Ronnie James Dio’s Wikipedia page !!

I know this may inspire insane jealousy: “Anandamide’s blog isn’t half as good as mine, I should be linked on Dio’s Wikipedia page, not him”. Some of you doubting Thomases may not even believe it’s true. Well, here it is, go see for yourselves. I’m in the trivia section, in the item about Cortland, New York.

Others of you may think that this awesome benchmark of success is the result of sinister forces. I’ve heard you whispering…”Anandamide sold his soul to get on the Dio page”. I’m not saying that’s true, but here’s one rather strange fact. The greatest single number of hits this blog has received was on November 15th, 2007. The number of hits received? 666.

Coincidence? Judge for yourself……

Due to our close personal relationship with the band, Anandamide has been granted the exclusive privilege of announcing the release of the new AC/DC album “Knee To The Balls”. The album’s lyrics deal almost exclusively with rock and roll and sex, marking a stark departure from their previous albums. Here is the track listing:

*Knee to the Balls

*She’s Givin’ Me The Itch

*The Taste of Meat (Do You Like It?)

*Her Tuna, My Harpoon

*Devil’s Rod

*Buryin’ My Love In Your Back Yard

*Hard Rock, Sausage Roll

*Chewin’ My Tree (Like a Beaver)

*She Wants to Rock and Roll (But I Want to Do It)

*Put Your Hand in the Hand of the Man (With the Hand in His Pants)

Ok, seriously, the last one isn’t on the album. That one I just made up. But the rest of them are totally serious. Devil horns all around.

Today we continue our series on entries that were disqualified from the great homoerotic photo contest. Last week’s entry from Coaster Punchman was disqualified for breaking the rule that the entrant had to be classic rock. This week’s photo didn’t miss out because of a blatant rule violation, but more for violating the spirit of the contest. In many ways, the photo below is similar to one of our strongest entries (this one of Rod Stewart): long hair, plenty of exposed man-flesh and a skimpy bikini that fails to cover the rocker’s pubic region (who can resist male pubic hair !!!! so hot !!!!). The critical difference is the attitude. With the Rod Stewart photo, you just know Rod is desperately trying to be sexy and believing that he’s doing the ladies of the world a favor by barely covering his schlong and exposing the beard in his pants (“a little glimpse of heaven, luv”). It’s that attitude that makes the photo funny, in my opinion.

Contrast that with this photo submitted by Captain Smack. The skimpy bikini is there, the pubis, and plenty of ferns to boot. But it’s my judgment that the intention here is to be weird and disturbing, rather than sexy. But I will let you, the reader decide. Ladies and gentlemen, Frank Zappa:

“For some reason, the children didn’t trust the curator at the botanical museum”

So that the disqualified parties understand why their pictures never appeared and so nobody is deprived of these photos, we will occasionally run some of these entries on homoerotic friday, with an explanation for disqualification.

First case in point: CP’s fine Eminem submission. This is a great entry because a) Eminem is sexist and homophobic and b) this photo is about as gay as it gets. So why the disqualification? To cite the original contest rules “Only classic rock band photos will be posted”. So Eminem didn’t make the cut for the contest. But I won’t deprive my readers of this tasteful art photo any longer. Ladies and germs…..EMINEM !!!!! Thanks Punchman.

“Watch it explode in my mouth !!!“

OK, Clarence Clemons has been receiving our prayers for a couple of months now, and after a while even the big man can’t fit all my burdens on his shoulders. This month has been filled with unique challenges that require the attention of a saint who is a little more…..progressive. Until further notice, our prayers will be directed to Yes keyboard wizard Rick Wakeman.

Claims to Sainthood

-Popularized capes as manly apparel.

-Reportedly left Yes in the early ’70s due to “musical differences” and the fact that he was the only non-vegetarian in the band.

-Made Yanni look like a doobie-smoking couch potato by releasing no fewer than eight new age-y albums in 1991, including the trilogy “Aspirant Sunrise”, “Aspirant Sunset” and “Aspirant Sunshadows”.

-Not only made a concept album called “The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table”, but went bankrupt putting a theatrical version on ice. I bestow honorary Canadian Citizenship upon him.

-Played piano on “There’s No One Quite Like Grandma” by the St. Winifred’s School Choir”. Unfortunately, this one never made it to the ice.

Patron Saint of:

-Men who dress like superheros.

-Meat eaters.

-Keyboard players and anyone else who can’t get a date.

-Women who’ve been beheaded by their royal husbands.

-Anandamide.

Jimi, a male of indeterminate age was wheeled in by his manager and various family members. As the patient’s court-appointed guardian, his manager informed us that the patient was “too fragile” to participate in the interview unless covered by a blanket. I expressed concern and agreed to conduct the interview with the blanket on, deciding instead to deal with this rather strange quirk therapeutically. No defining physical characteristics were observed. The patient’s affect was static.

I communicated with the patient’s minders to discuss their concerns about previous medical diagnoses, assuring them that while other medical specialists might rush to morbid prognoses simply because they didn’t know what to do with his symptoms, the psychiatric profession prided itself on really listening and being comfortable with uncertainty.

The interview was, indeed, extremely informative. The patient was anhedonic, bordering on catatonic. He was unable to confirm experiencing a sense of hopelessness and depressed mood, so all consuming was his misery. This observer also noticed the patient’s poor personal hygiene, as evidenced by a body odor so profound that one of the janitorial staff was heard to observe “yikes, who died in here?”, hours after the interview.

Discussion of Axis I, Bold as Love

The patient’s catatonic state, total disruption of social functioning and disregard for personal hygiene are indicative of a Major Depressive Disorder. Patient was given a prescription for sertraline, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, with a plan to begin cognitive therapy.

Follow Up

The patient’s manager wheeled him in six weeks later, reporting that there had been no change in his condition. I concurred that he looked somewhat lifeless. His manager became defensive. “What are you saying? Are you saying he looks dead? Well, I’ll tell you mister, he put out three albums last year. Does that sound like a dead guy to you?”

The patient is not responding well to cognitive therapy, we will concentrate on more behavioral strategies like short walks and relaxation breathing. It is also recommended that the patient switch from sertraline to zyprexa.

Hey all,

Forgive the lack of activity of late. I am traveling for work for most of January and may or may not be able to post for a couple of weeks.

I don’t know whether it’s encouraging or depressing that traffic to this site remains pretty much the same whether I show up or not. I guess my ramblings are no match for semi-clothed pictures of Bon Jovi.

See you all soon…..