John Kerry’s “Sista Souljah” Speech at the American Embassy in Cuba

Forget about Al Gore running in 2016, it’s John Kerry we need to be watching:

“In the words of that famous Cuban-American Tony Montana:  ‘F-f-ffock you!‘ ”


“No wait–excuse me–that was the wrong quote–I mis-swore: ‘First you get the money, then you get the pussy!

(Louder applause)

“And now with the reopening of our embassy here in Cooba, we can proudly proclaim: It’s pussy time!”

(Wild applause)

‘Say hello to my little friend!’

(Wild applause)

‘Oy Conyo!’ ”  (Applause) ” ‘What you lookin at? You fucking cockroach! Who the fuck you calling a Spic, mang? Chi chi, get the yeyo. And don’t be calling me no dishwasher or I’ll kick you fuckin’ monkey ass!’

” ‘You wanna go to war? We take you to war, OK! There’s not gonna be a next time you dumb fucking Cuban.’

‘I’m Tony Montana, a political prisoner from Cooba. And I want my fuckin’ human rights now!’

Audience:  “Black Cuban lives matter!

Fresh Business Ideas from 500 B.C.

Scythian Saunas with Real Sensimilla not that Seedy Shitty Scythian Stuff

According to Herodotus, the ancient Scythians made marijuana saunas. See if you can spot his error:

“Inside this little tent they put a dish with red-hot stones in it… They take some hemp seed, creep into the tent, and throw the seed on to the hot stones. At once it begins to smoke, giving off a vapor unsurpassed by any vapor-bath one could find in Greece. The Scythians enjoy it so much that they howl with pleasure. This is their substitute for an ordinary bath in water, which they never use.”

MODERN UPDATE:  no seeds, obviously, just buds.

You see, the Scythians were smart, especially given their backgrounds, but they weren’t so culturally advanced as to have sensimilla (seedless marijuana). Consequently, when the Scythians threw their spindly seedy buds on the fire, Herodotus, who got fucked up, thought the seeds were the point. ‘Understandable, given that the seeds pop and put out more smoke and considering how fucked up Herodotus got.

It’s amazing he remembered anything. Truly a great ethnographer.

But like Colorado, it would have to be well-regulated. Like you’re only allowed one sauna per day or something.

Would it sell? What are you an asshole? Of course it would sell!

Gladiator Goo

The Romans were smart enough to market gladiator sweat and stupid enough to buy it.

We honor that capitalist spirit of intelligence and stupidity and go one better by offering gladiator dick-cheese, the goo that accumulates inside the foreskins of the uncircumcised penises over in Old Europe.

Really old Europe. Like Transylvania and stuff. Places so old the sun barely shines there anymore.

And yes, these are genuine gladiators and other heroic sports and military figures. We didn’t just scoop the cheese from some genetically defective geek or something. These are manly men with so much testosterone they’re deadly.

A vial of their manly essence will make you deadly cool too. A few smears of Gladiator Goo and all the ladies will be fawning all over you inside your new Scythian Sauna complex.

You Are NOT Unique and THIS Is How You Should Smuggle Drugs: Unintended Lessons from National Geographic’s Locked Up Abroad

Watching Locked Up Abroad you realize that everyone has the same story:

“I was smuggling contraband because I was young and felt invincible–I got caught—how am I going to tell my Dad?—(sniff)—Prison was hell—you’ve got to be strong—My parents forgave me and pulled some strings—etc.”

This makes me question the assumption our culture shares about how “unique” each person really is. I mean, these people are living on the knife-edge of danger, experiencing the exhilarating rush of adventure and adversity that makes each moment seem so intense and life so special—and it’s all the same! Even the superlatives I just used to describe it are clichés distilled from a mash of everyone “who’s ever really lived.”

And if those people aren’t unique, how unique are we, sitting on our safe fat asses at home?

Obviously, this is not the lesson intended by the producers of the show.

Another lesson I’m sure they did not intend to convey was how to smuggle drugs properly:

You need fifteen “mules.” Fourteen of the mules are decoys, strapped to the gills beneath their clothing with packages of baby powder or some other legal substance—no cocaine or heroin at all—trying their damnedest to fit the profile of a drug smuggler.

[Singing out loud with his headphones, to the tune of “Hey Hey We’re the Monkees”]:

Hey hey I’m a smuggler!
People say I’m smuggling around
But I’m too busy smuggling
To put any Federales down…

At the airport, the fourteen fake mules are located in the front and back of the lines, easily picked off by law enforcement. None of the fake mules actually knows who the real mule is or even what contraband is being smuggled–all they’ve been told is “Go down to South American and strap some legal products to your body and we will pay you $10,000.”

Plausible denial, baby!

Overwhelmed by so many fake mules with so much apparent cocaine, all of which has to be tested (“Hey, you forgot to check this package!”), the real mule slips by on his or her way.

Carlos Castaneda Was Lying But His Jimsonweed Lizards Accurately Predicted His Future

castaneda_booksFrom The Teachings of Don Juan: a Yaqui Way of Knowledge (1968):

“The paste [datura or Jimsonweed, aka loco weed] had dried up and scaled off my temples. I was about to rub some more of it on [using a live lizard’s head as an applicator] when I realized I was sitting on my heels in Japanese fashion. I had been sitting cross-legged and did not recall changing positions. It took some time to realize fully that I was sitting on the floor in a sort of cloister with high arches. I thought they were brick arches, but upon examining them I saw they were stone.

“This transition was very difficult. It came so suddenly that I was not ready to follow. My perception of the elements of the vision was diffused, as if I were dreaming. Yet the components did not change…

“…the next thing I noticed was that I had moved. I was at the top of a stairway and H., a friend of mine, was standing at the bottom. Her eyes were feverish. There was a mad glare in them. She laughed aloud with such intensity that she was terrifying. She began coming up the stairs. I wanted to run away or take cover, because ‘she had been off her rocker once’. That was the thought that came to my mind.

“I hid behind a column and she went by without looking. ‘She is going on a long trip now,’ was another thought that occurred to me then; and finally the last thought I remembered was, ‘She laughs every time she is ready to crack up.’

“….The scene changed abruptly. It was night-time. I was in the hall of a building. The darkness inside the building made me aware that in the earlier scene the sunlight had been beautifully clear; yet it had been so commonplace that I did not notice it at the time.

“As I looked further into the new vision I saw a young man coming out of a room carrying a large knapsack on his shoulders. I did not know who he was, although I had seen him once or twice. He walked by me and went down the stairs. By then I had forgotten my apprehension, my rational dilemmas.

” ‘Who is that guy?’ I thought. ‘Why did I see him?’ “

“The scene changed again and I was watching the young man deface books; he glued some of the pages together, erased markings, and so on. Then I saw him arranging the books neatly in a wooden crate. There was a pile of crates. They were not in his room, but in a storage place. Other images came to my mind, but they were not clear. The scene became foggy. I had a sensation of spinning.

“Don Juan shook me by the shoulders, and I woke up….”


Both components of the vision are about Castaneda’s ultimate destiny. The stone edifice or structure symbolizes both academia and the world of money and comfort. Carlos’s “colleagues” in this edifice are a bunch of “wild-eyed” women, deranged with laughter and nearing total breakdown. They come after him and he must hide–this obviously symbolizes the “witches” etc. (see links below)

The final component–the man tearing out pages from books, someone Castaneda had seen around campus, but did not know–symbolizes the total rejection of Castaneda’s work by academia. In anthropology, Castaneda is now un-quotable except as a foil, a counter-example, which is a fate worse than death to a scholar. The geeky nobody in Carlos’ vision that he barely recognizes symbolizes the diligent academic scholars who went on to less sexy careers than Castaneda, but who in the end collectively decide whose writings are in and whose are out of the un/official libraries of modern anthropology.

As don Juan told Castaneda afterwards:

“The lizards are never wrong.”

POSTSCRIPT:  For background on Castaneda’s deceptions here are two links:


video:   (part of the Tales from the Jungle Series–British documentaries on anthropology’s dirty laundry)