Bob Dobbs wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:


I wonder where that country went???

Still looking for it myself.

“ Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later?
Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak
that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very
special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe
not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music
or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and
alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bull****, but even
without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think
that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head
in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the
time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe
forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore
half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning
across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean
shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the
Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and
Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other
end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while
I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter
which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high
and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay,
then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You
could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that
whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t
need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las
Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see
the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled
back."
-HST

San Francisco,,, Open them Golden Gates! I spent four days and nights at
Oakland Army Terminal/Base in the first few days of January 1964.I used
to catch a bus from Oakland to San Francisco.One time, in San Francisco,
going across Treasure Island, (whatever happened to Robot Wars which
used to be on tv? I Love that show!) I walked into a store and I started
looking at a soft back book of black and white photos of naked women, I
was only twenty three years old, still young and innocent. Onother time
in San Francisco, a woman two or three storeys up in a building, she
wolf whistled out the window at me.I kept on walking down the street.
cuhulin

wrote:
San Francisco,,, Open them Golden Gates! I spent four days and nights at
Oakland Army Terminal/Base in the first few days of January 1964.I used
to catch a bus from Oakland to San Francisco.One time, in San Francisco,
going across Treasure Island, (whatever happened to Robot Wars which
used to be on tv? I Love that show!) I walked into a store and I started
looking at a soft back book of black and white photos of naked women, I
was only twenty three years old, still young and innocent. Onother time
in San Francisco, a woman two or three storeys up in a building, she
wolf whistled out the window at me.I kept on walking down the street.
cuhulin

You blew a chance at getting laid on the spot. Women were using men's
rules for getting some. I had one girl just about drag me up to her
apartment in L.A. in 1969 and it was a one bed, 3 room mates deal.
We did the deed on the bed as her room mates toked.
1969 was a phenomenal year and I don't see any repeats coming.
It will just have to remain a great memory.
Around the same time, next to the same apartment, I was standing with my
hands clasped in the back, about butt height when I felt something warm
in my hands. A girl had just come up from behind and made herself
comfortable with her girl parts snuggled into my hands.
Again with the upstairs routine but a different room.
I never even got her name, but she was happy, I was happy and stunned.

Bill Baka

dave wrote:
Bob Dobbs wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:


I wonder where that country went???

Still looking for it myself.
“ Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later?
Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak
that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very
special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe
not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music
or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and
alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bull****, but even
without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think
that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head
in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the
time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe
forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore
half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning
across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean
shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the
Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and
Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other
end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while
I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter
which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high
and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay,
then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You
could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that
whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t
need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las
Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see
the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled
back."
-HST

That pretty well describes it, except I had a 1968 Rambler so I could
carry a porta-party and it got 22 MPG at 120 MPH all the way down to
Tijuana. I had my 'Cougar' with me. It was kind of nice being her sex
toy since I never had to worry about getting laid. She was a major horn
dog and almost made me at 20 look 'not horny enough'.
Damn,
I miss the 60's.
Bill Baka

On Oct 7, 8:42*pm, Bill Baka wrote:
dave wrote:
Bob Dobbs wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:

I wonder where that country went???

Still looking for it myself.
“ Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later?
Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak
that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very
special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe
not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music
or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and
alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bull****, but even
without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think
that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head
in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the
time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened..

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe
forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore
half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning
across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean
shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the
Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and
Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other
end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while
I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter
which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high
and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay,
then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You
could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that
whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t
need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las
Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see
the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled
back."
*-HST

That pretty well describes it, except I had a 1968 Rambler so I could
carry a porta-party and it got 22 MPG at 120 MPH all the way down to
Tijuana. I had my 'Cougar' with me. It was kind of nice being her sex
toy since I never had to worry about getting laid. She was a major horn
dog and almost made me at 20 look 'not horny enough'.
Damn,
I miss the 60's.
Bill Baka- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

***How young was she Baka...16...?...*grin, sh%t eatin style"

Krypsis wrote:
nurk_fred2000 wrote:
On Oct 7, 8:42 pm, Bill Baka wrote:
dave wrote:
Bob Dobbs wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:
I wonder where that country went???
Still looking for it myself.
“ Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years
later?
Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of
peak
that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very
special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe
not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music
or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and
alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bull****, but even
without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think
that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a
head
in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the
time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened..
My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe
forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore
half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning
across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean
shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the
Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and
Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other
end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral
while
I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter
which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high
and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .
There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay,
then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You
could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense
that
whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .
And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we
didn’t
need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in
Las
Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see
the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and
rolled
back."
-HST
That pretty well describes it, except I had a 1968 Rambler so I could
carry a porta-party and it got 22 MPG at 120 MPH all the way down to
Tijuana. I had my 'Cougar' with me. It was kind of nice being her sex
toy since I never had to worry about getting laid. She was a major horn
dog and almost made me at 20 look 'not horny enough'.
Damn,
I miss the 60's.
Bill Baka- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

***How young was she Baka...16...?...*grin, sh%t eatin style"

Will someone please explain to Nurk what a cougar is! He is quite
obviously too stupid to know!

Krypsis

That much is obvious!
My 'Cougar' was about 38 and the horniest woman I have ever known.
I lived with her and her 18 year old daughter for about 6 months.
They supported me in fine style. Cougar worked nights as a bar maid and
daughter worked days in a head shop on Sunset Strip during the days. The
18 year old was my target but I wound up double-dipping, legally.
Be jealous Nurk, be *very* jealous.
1969, for me, was just about an all time peak year.
Viet Nam? Draft? College?
Nope. Took the year off to get laid, laid, and laid some more.

Poor Nurk must be a frustrated *Virgin*.

Bill Baka

Bill Baka wrote:
John Barnard wrote:
nurk_fred2000 wrote:
On Oct 2, 11:41 am, Bill Baka wrote:
Nick Danger wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:
Alcohol and tobacco have done more damage to my non smoking friends
than any amount of Pot smoke could ever do.
Pot smoke vs tobacco smoke? Parts is parts and smoke is smoke -- and
your lung parts are looking for oxygen, not smoke.
Please 'splain how pot smoke can't help but be harmful to your lungs.
A real answer please, no tap dancing.
A. My second major in college was chemistry.
B. I never smoke straight street *dope* since that is for dopes.
C. I dissolve out the plant goo from the cellulose that I don't want to
smoke.
D. I separate out the tar and other stuff like Chlorophyll and and
added
chemicals to get pure THC.
E. If I am ambitious or have plenty of raw material I isomerize the THC
cis-trans mix into the active stuff.
F. If I am really ambitious I can attach an acetate radical for about
50% greater bio-availability.
G. After all this you can't possibly take more than one hit off a bong
or smoke more than 2 hits off a joint and still move.
H. Therefore it is totally impossible to smoke a pack a day.

Satisfied?
Actually my second major in college was any and all things scientific.
Passing the entrance requirements was 0.0000% of a problem.

Bill Baka

***what a Dork!...seperate out the tar and chloryphyll...?...what a
croc of sh%t...attatch an acetate radical for a 50% juice to the bio
availability...?...wheres your degree from...NYC Elementary...?....now
you claim to be an expert Welder...Bwahahaha!...:-)



Nurkie,

The effects of your STDs on your brain are apparent.

Acetylation of a number of biologically active materials can help to
increase their bioavailability.

Please get an education!

Well John,
It is nice to know there are some intelligent people here.
He could have just picked up an allergy medication and read the
ingredients to see all the things being ingested. Almost all
medications, prescription or not, have a radical of some sort attached.
I chew Tums like candy for the Calcium, not the Carbonate that is attached.
Benadryl, Diphenhydramine HCl helps me to sleep, thanks to a radical, HCl.
I guess Nurk is a write off.

Now that I have some of the Nurk's marked I know a bit more about who to
talk to on here.

I actually wanted to see if this group had anything related to shortwave
for my Hammarlund to chase down. I have the speaker output hooked to a 4
channel scope so I would be looking for telemetry or anything unusual.

Bill Baka

Hi Bill,

I was in the Pharma industry for over 10 years. I've got one that
finished an expanded Phase II in California and Thailand (UC781) and
should hit market one of these years (5 years would be my guess) and
have been involved with Phase III trials with another drug so I know a
little bit ;-) about pharmaceuticals.

It's good to see that someone else has a chem. background here.

Cheers!

John B.

nurk_fred2000 wrote:
On Oct 5, 6:51 pm, John Barnard wrote:
nurk_fred2000 wrote:
On Oct 2, 11:41 am, Bill Baka wrote:
Nick Danger wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:
Alcohol and tobacco have done more damage to my non smoking friends
than any amount of Pot smoke could ever do.
Pot smoke vs tobacco smoke? Parts is parts and smoke is smoke -- and
your lung parts are looking for oxygen, not smoke.
Please 'splain how pot smoke can't help but be harmful to your lungs.
A real answer please, no tap dancing.
A. My second major in college was chemistry.
B. I never smoke straight street *dope* since that is for dopes.
C. I dissolve out the plant goo from the cellulose that I don't want to
smoke.
D. I separate out the tar and other stuff like Chlorophyll and and added
chemicals to get pure THC.
E. If I am ambitious or have plenty of raw material I isomerize the THC
cis-trans mix into the active stuff.
F. If I am really ambitious I can attach an acetate radical for about
50% greater bio-availability.
G. After all this you can't possibly take more than one hit off a bong
or smoke more than 2 hits off a joint and still move.
H. Therefore it is totally impossible to smoke a pack a day.
Satisfied?
Actually my second major in college was any and all things scientific.
Passing the entrance requirements was 0.0000% of a problem.
Bill Baka
***what a Dork!...seperate out the tar and chloryphyll...?...what a
croc of sh%t...attatch an acetate radical for a 50% juice to the bio
availability...?...wheres your degree from...NYC Elementary...?....now
you claim to be an expert Welder...Bwahahaha!...:-)
Nurkie,

The effects of your STDs on your brain are apparent.

Acetylation of a number of biologically active materials can help to
increase their bioavailability.

Please get an education!- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

***Rock on Barney...are you a druggie?...do you like underage
girls?...do you manipulate Class 1 narcotics too?...seems to me you
and Baka are pretty chummy...*grin*


I like you Nurkie - you're wrong all the time! You really need to quit
being so envious of people with an education and try to get one yourself.

I've managed controlled materials with the government's blessings - I
doubt any government would ever give you that okay.

JB

dave wrote:
John Barnard wrote:
nurk_fred2000 wrote:
On Oct 2, 11:41 am, Bill Baka wrote:
Nick Danger wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:
Alcohol and tobacco have done more damage to my non smoking friends
than any amount of Pot smoke could ever do.
Pot smoke vs tobacco smoke? Parts is parts and smoke is smoke -- and
your lung parts are looking for oxygen, not smoke.
Please 'splain how pot smoke can't help but be harmful to your lungs.
A real answer please, no tap dancing.
A. My second major in college was chemistry.
B. I never smoke straight street *dope* since that is for dopes.
C. I dissolve out the plant goo from the cellulose that I don't want to
smoke.
D. I separate out the tar and other stuff like Chlorophyll and and
added
chemicals to get pure THC.
E. If I am ambitious or have plenty of raw material I isomerize the THC
cis-trans mix into the active stuff.
F. If I am really ambitious I can attach an acetate radical for about
50% greater bio-availability.
G. After all this you can't possibly take more than one hit off a bong
or smoke more than 2 hits off a joint and still move.
H. Therefore it is totally impossible to smoke a pack a day.

Satisfied?
Actually my second major in college was any and all things scientific.
Passing the entrance requirements was 0.0000% of a problem.

Bill Baka

***what a Dork!...seperate out the tar and chloryphyll...?...what a
croc of sh%t...attatch an acetate radical for a 50% juice to the bio
availability...?...wheres your degree from...NYC Elementary...?....now
you claim to be an expert Welder...Bwahahaha!...:-)



Nurkie,

The effects of your STDs on your brain are apparent.

Acetylation of a number of biologically active materials can help to
increase their bioavailability.

Please get an education!


And salts are more stable at room temperature.


It's often easier to recrystallize the salts to increase their purity.
From an industrial point-of-view this easier to do than trying other
methods of purification.

On Oct 6, 3:41*pm, dave wrote:
Bob Dobbs wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:

I wonder where that country went???

Still looking for it myself.

“ Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later?
Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak
that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very
special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe
not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music
or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and
alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bull****, but even
without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think
that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head
in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the
time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe
forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore
half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning
across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean
shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the
Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and
Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other
end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while
I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter
which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high
and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay,
then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You
could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that
whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t
need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las
Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see
the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled
back."
* -HST

[HST] Hunter S. Thompson -circa- 1972
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fear_an...g_in_Las_Vegas