Bernie Sanders Kicked Out of Hippie Commune For Not Working. Chortle.

An upcoming book, We Are As Gods by Kate Deloz, tells the world that presidential hopeful, Bernie Sanders, was kicked out of a hippy commune in Vermont, Myrtle Hill Farm, in 1971 for "sitting around and talking" and not doing any work.

From the Washington Free Beacon:

Sanders’ idle chatter did not endear him with some of the commune’s residents, who did the backbreaking labor of running the place. Daloz writes that one resident, Craig, “resented feeling like he had to pull others out of Bernie’s orbit if any work was going to get accomplished that day.”

Do You See Sanders? No, You do Not.

Sanders was eventually asked to leave. “When Bernie had stayed for Myrtle’s allotted three days, Craig politely requested that he move on,” Daloz writes.

Sanders moved on, though the commune remained until the 1980s, when police found some $200,000 worth of marijuana and a small arsenal of weapons.

What did Bernie do after Myrtle Hill? Steal food out of people's fridges, apparently:

“You get out!” my mom yelled, hitting the man on his skinny ass. “Out, out!” Under her tan skin, my mother’s face was red with indignation. We didn’t have much in our fridge, but my mom would fiercely defend it. The man pulled his head out of the fridge, dropping the food on the shelf. His hair was curly; a cherub’s full-bodied curls framed his startled face. Chagrined, he loped off to the other apartment housed in my family’s converted two-room schoolhouse in Huntington, Vermont, the site of a late-night mock-up session for The Vermont Freeman, the alt-weekly my parents published. Years later, I’d find out that man was Bernie Sanders.

During that time Bernie wrote Man and Woman, and what can we say? Getting the order of the boot for not working at a hippie commune is pretty special, and we all know that hippies are thieves. But I'll tell you this, Bernie Sanders may be an old compol leftist, but he's not an Illuminati Devil Witch like Hillary Clinton. He just isn't.

Illuminati Devil Witch

Democrats, all -10 of you that read this so-called "blog", vote for Bernie. At least he's an honest commie and not part of the DC power elite that are doing their best to turn us into a nation of serfs and slaves.

Kick out the JAMS.

LSP

Opening Day, On The Road

"Did you get out in the Dove Fields?" asked a sportsman friend, yesterday. "No," I replied, "I spent the opening day of dove season at the tire store." This is true, rather than risk a blow-out for the sake of a few avian acrobats, I got my tires changed.

Silent Running?

First I went to Walmart, and they wanted $700+ for a set of 4 of their cheapest all terrains. I thought better of that and went down the road to Pedro's. "I want some tires for this truck, Pedro," I stated, gesturing grandly at my rig. "You can have these," said Pedro, pointing at a stack of used Goodrich Rugged Trail T/As, "They don't make no noise on the road or anything."

Note Umbrella

Pedro fitted those tires for around a third the price of Walmart's offering, and I watched the progress in the blazing sun. A false economy? Perhaps, perhaps not, at least my truck will now be silent; no-one will hear it coming.

Californians, Heading to Texas

The tires may be used, but they have plenty of tread. There's a moral in that, somewhere, if you care to draw it, but in the meanwhile I'll get busy turning the old tires into sandals to sell to all the Californians who are surging into Texas.

On the Road,

LSP

Burning Man Freak Fair Infested By Bugs. Shocka.

This year's Burning Man hippy throw-down was infested by bugs. "What!" You cry out in amazement, "A freak fair, infested by bugs!" 

Yeah, that's right, bugs, in the Nevada desert. The hippies brought them there.

Hippies Goofing Off Around a Fire

Hippies are notorious for bad personal hygiene, thieving, hustling, and lying around, out of it, when they're not goofing off around fires or dressing up like Indians.

"Indian"

There's very little water in the Nevada desert, which makes cleanliness difficult. Far out, eh?

Make of that what you will.

LSP

Summer Solstice Hi-Jinx

It's the Summer Solstice, or Litha, when hippies like nothing better than to go to an ancient stone circle, goof about, get brewed up and rip each other off. Some get all mysticke and worship the Sun gods.

Here's a sample ritual:

Gods who bring us light, we honor you!

Hail, Ra, whose mighty chariot brings us light each morning!

Hail, Ra!

Hail, Apollo, who brings us the healing energies of the sun!

Hail, Apollo!

Hail, Saule, whose fertility blooms as the sun gains in strength!

Hail, Saule!

Hail, Helios, whose great steeds race the flames across the sky!

Hail, Helios!

Hail, Hestia, whose sacred flame lights our way in the darkness!

Hail, Hestia!

Hail, Sunna, who is sister of the moon, and bringer of light!

Hail, Sunna!

We call upon you today, thanking you for your blessings, accepting your gifts. We draw upon your strength, your energy, your healing light, and your life giving power! Hail to you, mighty gods and goddesses of the sun!

Just a bit of harmless tomfoolery, right? 

Remember this. It's all fun and games until you wake up and find a demon gnawing on your elbow.

Your Pal,

LSP

LL Flies to Texas

Some people don't have much to say and what they do say is depressing, negative, boring and stupid. None of these things apply to LL, and I know this because he broke free of California and visited Texas this week.

The conversation was varied, ranging from drones and kukris to Atlantis, soteriology, and everything else in between. Of course most of this is classified, but not all; here's a paraphrase, as we were taking a break at the range.

  "I say, old chap," I asked, adjusting the settings of my thermal visioning monocle, "What d'ye think of Preppers?"

  "Preppers?" Growled LL, channeling General Patton, "I've always been a prepper, because I've always been prepared, but some of these guys are too narrow. Their plan lacks perspective."

  "How's that?" I replied, cutting the head off a snake with a handy, razor sharp kukri.

  "Well, I turn up at their fort with a canon, a Civil War cannon, that has a range of not much less than a mile, and I start pounding that compound with hot shot. What then? Yeah, maybe they run out, perhaps they sally forth. I want that, I want them in my kill box."

  "A Civil War cannon?"

  "Right. A Civil War cannon. Maybe a trebuchet. I could make both of them, so could you."

   "So perhaps the redoubt should be underground?"

   "Exactly."

After some ranging about we drove south to meet friendly forces. Rumors of hedgehogs are entirely without foundation.

Texas, which is perfect, is nonetheless a poorer place without LL.

God bless,

LSP