by the way, that ditchweed that I got from stefan (not stefan) was covered in some type of strange resin that smelled like frankensence and myrrh....I was a little spooked by it but ended up smoking it the nonetheless...so far no side effects...
and despite the fact that no rumpelstitskin from the motor booy affair was played that night by our lurching space child, the show was not ruined for me...george actually responded to my incessant requests by laughing (or scoffing -not quite sure) and then turning around to hit a joint (probably provided by stefan)...the only thing that was somewhat ruinous was how drunk I ended up getting- and the pile of crap food from the am/pm I ended up ingesting...gloryhallastoopid!!!!!....
P-Funk Report:
Eric McFadden (the young, Lenny Kravitz wannabe who is P-funk's latest Maggot Brainer guitar/mandolin player) and his All Star friends came to Dante's on Tuesday. A lame-o emo/funk/punk McFadden set was followed by playing the entire Chronic album at least twice. Chris bought a dime sack off a guy named Stefan (not to be confused with Stefan) and we hit up the phonebooth down the street. Upon our return we were greeted with the opening licks of Red Hot Mama and the stage began to fill up with funkateers. Blackbyrd McKnight and George were the only Funkadelic players. But the newbie All-Star folks knew all the songs and kept up with George just fine. I'm always shocked at how fucking tight Clinton is even stoned and cracked out and 93 years old. He can still sing, he can work a crowd like a mofo and he keeps that band wrapped so tight around his little finger it was turning purple. Clinton's daughter, the Sativa Diva, came out and spit a few verses about how much she likes smokeing weed. Her dad squinted at her approvingly with that famous goofy grin plastered on his face. Sativa's definitely got more hip-hop chops than Corey Parker, but then so do I.
Chris became obsessed with hearing Motor Booty at one point and it almost seemed to ruin the show for him. I couldn't give a fuck. Worn out by waiting till midnight for a 9:30 show to start, I had to leave with the sound of the Atomic Dog encore rocking Old Town as we boogied back across the Burnside bridge. In the middle of the bridge Chris tried to smoke another bowl and accidentally smashed his "unbreakable" pipe. We threw the remains in the Willamette and called it a night.
