Shouting, RAISE HIM UP, HELP HIM UP, everyone pulls KapnKen to his feet and he is transformed from a black clad nasty rapper into a multi hued psychedelic clad . . .

Nicey Rapper who much to M.G.'s delight, bursts into the classic song from Hair:

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius
Harmony and understanding
Sympathy and love abounding
No more falsehoods or derisions
Golden living dreams of visions
Mystic crystal revelation
And the mind's true liberation

And everywhere there was dance and celebration, the peoples raised their arms to the sky, their voices to the heavens, verily there was spiritual rebirth, and happiness did abound and all turned to each other and smiled and exchanged open eye looks of mutual trust . . .

With the new sweet vibe established, KapnKen goes into his nicey rap . . .

 Hola amigos and amigas
Dudes and Dudettes
welcome to my aura
take a nap in the woods
under a warm autumn sun
and a cool forest breeze
you are in charge
of your own destinie

the thought of living without money
is anethema to most people
but those in the know know
you only need enough
for certain essentials
you grow you barter
you form cooperatives
a 91 year old lady
drives her 48 year old car
in for a tune-up
Give us the misfits
and we'll give them
something to believe in
they are our people

hard times need strong rituals
hard times need strong rituals

 Todo es hermoso y constante
Everything is beautiful and constant
Todo es musica y razon
Everything is music and reason
we live in
a psychedelic world
enlightened beings
rise up
on beams of light
inspire no good purveyors
of selfish scams
to change their ways
when I walk
among the palms
the croak of the coqui
supplies the balms
open your alms
to the sound
of the lutes
be assuaged
by the flutes
one sweet dream
came true today

hard times need strong rituals
hard times need strong rituals

 they said
we dosed them
we never
dosed them
we mighta
hosed them
but we
never dosed them
Case rested
I need a good rest
to match the
long strange trip
that's been
a long time coming
the psychedelics
so enfused
into the culture
everything is
happening all at once
we ride the bike path
to happiness

minds are like parachutes,
they only work when open
where were we going
without ever knowing
the way
we had to stick together
just in case
someone got there

Hard times need strong rituals
Hard times need strong rituals

 Don't I was told
smoke weed
on the bike path,
it is a federal offense
nothing beats
a stoned ride
along the bay front
over the golden gate bridge
a downhill run
into sausalito
a ferry boat trip
across the bay
return the rentals,
only to get busted

there is very little
more pathetic
than an aging
feral Woodstocker
standing before
a greying judge
trying to appear
uninformed or blase
on the charge
of smoking pot
in a national park
grey judges
have memories
like spring-loaded bear traps
skating a half pipe stoned
is not an X sport
biking the bridge stoned is
Case dismissed.

At which point the ol Kapn breaks into the song:

By the time we got to woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song and celebration
And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Over our nation
We are stardust
Billion year old carbon
We are golden
Caught in the devils bargain
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

And everything goes dead, the amplifiers the microphones, all squelched by the lady rushing onstage yelling, your time is up. Thank God, I was afraid for a minute there I had committed blasphemy with my rendition of Woodstock. Nodding to do now but go over to the only working microphone, move in on the guy announcing the next act, and thank everyone for their kind attention to the lame Oregonians and their San Fran compatriots didn't get a chance to do the final song. Oh well, we'll put it on the DVD. Now to get the fug outta here.


Bozo is outraged, Helvetica and MG are puzzled, we've been cut off and we didn't finish the number. Oh well, what can you do, at this point all you can do is blast, and as for me, it's blast on out of here, after a big thanks to Freddy Hahne, our main man on the San Fran scene and also the video cameraman; the Bozos, Ed Zingaro aka Dr. Cabro, and Dan Schaefer; the dancers, Helvetica Hahne, Marlene Schaefer and Rebecca Nichols; scat singer, Joni Maxx aka Dr. Joni; technical assistance with the smoke machine and confetti canons, Barry Howarth; and pounding the hand drum, Rudso Shurtliff.

Skypilot Loyd Skiles was at the show and filmed the whole thing on his mini dv camera. Funky, but he got it all. To view it, go to:


With the setting sun beaming on San Francisco, I headed out over the Golden Gate Bridge, across route 37 to I-80 to 505 and onto the 5 for the flat valley ride north, got as far as Williams at nine PM time to crash, found a funky motel on the edge of town.

She wouldn't take a credit card. That's funky. Forty dollars cash. Ouch, that hurt. I had a hundred dollars in cash I'd brought with me and hadn't touched it. If you can't fight em, join em. After a good sleep and a hot cup of coffee thanks to my electric tea kettle and the coffee fixins followed by a cup of granola with yogurt on top, it was hit the road, on up around Lake Shasta, then past Shasta City, with big Mt. Shasta looming over me the whole way.

Then at Weed, take route 97 off to the right for a long run to the Oregon border and a righteous gas stop -- the guy filled the tank for me. Onward to Hwy 58, turn west, climb through rain to the top of the Willamette Pass where it was snowing.

Get out of the car, ah, the fresh clear air, the sparkling snow splattering the face, the freezing cold, it's invigorating, it's full of enthusiasm, it's back into the car for the downhill run to home.

Whizzing down the mountain slopes, drenching rain splattering the windshield, steep curves, huge trucks, while texting, "I'm coming home, coming home . . . " (Performed by a professional test driver on an enclosed course, don't try this in your car-- surgeon's warning)



AFTERWORD: When I asked Boots Hughston-- the organizer and promoter of WEST FEST, the 40th Woodstock anniversary celebration in Golden Gate Park on Oct. 25, 2009-- for $264 to cover my gas and motel expenses from Oregon to San Fran and back, he replied:
I'm sorry their is no more money for this.

I told him:

you've used the word, their, incorrectly now in two emails, this one and another you sent out to the thousands, saying, their is a vidie online of WEST FEST for $9.99. That should have tipped me off.

Oh well, I got stiffed at woodstock, too.


He replied:

You did not get stiffed, I never agreed to cover this expense. I paid for and cover everything agreed to including thousands for dollars to bring you guys down here and you know it - I would be very careful of what you say of imply. I am honest and fair and have always treated people with dignity weather I can spell or not.


I told him:

cer goot, mein heir, like the bald guy who had nay kids, not a hair he could call his own.

don't worry about it, it's like the weather, rains on the just and unjust alike it or not. Stormy Monday here. Whether was gorgeous at Wes Fes.


Then I sent all the above to my lawyer.

He replied:

tell him you contacted you're lawyer.

we're always very careful about what we say of imply. why, just the other day I said of imply, "I wish imply would get to the point, stop beating around the bush."




Kapn Ken