Showing posts with label Filthy hippies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Filthy hippies. Show all posts

Saturday, July 22, 2023

Hippies - Is There Hope?

 



Hippies, typically filthy, unwashed, misguided and now trans blasphemous parodies of men and women. Yes indeed, but is there hope for these misguided denizens of Austin, San Francisco and Portland? Perhaps, and here at the Compound we've worked with Beans to suggest a template.

Lure them to a pop festival, a "freak fayre" if you like. Secure the perimeter, set up in force with tents, safari rifles and all of that. Next step? Drop the boom, I won't go into detail. And then?


hippie

Issue the wretched hippies with fatigues and boots, shave their hair, start remedial PT, get that drill going (they don't get real rifles at this point, obvs), issue ironing boards and starch. And carry on, all conducted by LL, the RHSM (Regimental Horse Sergeant Major) who's taken over the SOUND STAGE, with its mighty amplification.




Hear it, punters, "By the left... QUICK MARCH!" And watch them move like clockwork across the desert expanse. Think yourselves lucky, hippies. And what can we say, problem? Solution. Yes, there is hope.

Peace And Unity,

LSP

Tuesday, April 26, 2022

Filthy Hippies

 



One of the things about hippies is they don't wash. But sometimes they get near water and even in it, like a crew of motorcycle hippies chancing it out of Austin who ended up in my friend's stock tank. His Mossberg pump told them to leave, along with the snakes, and they did.




Speaking of which, the last trailer full of stuff left my friend's (RIP) place today. I tell you, he sure collected and where is all that going now? Hey, you get the sermon. Moral aside or perhaps reinforced, we found his old '60s service dress uniform. Neatly pressed. Respect.




My friend was a member of an experimental US/AUS chopper unit which saw action in Laos and Cambodia. Their motto? Get The Bloody Job Done. And they did. Utter respect. Anyway, we got the job done today and all was good.

A friend, RIP, landed at LAX during the conflict and a hippy punched him in the taxi rank, shrieking "baby killer." He hit that hippy right in the face and a cop came up, "Do you want me to book her for assault?"

Your Best Pal,

LSP