We did?
- Mike V.
-----Original Message-----
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
[mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Sent: Wednesday, June 06, 2007 10:04 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Fwd: [UC] Auntie Ruth's Hemp Bar
OK, I'm game. You I give credit to for genuinely creative writing.
That, and you are capable of spelling my name correctly, unlike my
buddy. But the real problem is that the Orientals left town soon after
the Negroes. Got it?
Sincerely,
pmuyehara
-----Original Message-----
From: Ross Bender <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
To: University City listserv <[email protected]>
Sent: Wed, 6 Jun 2007 9:30 pm
Subject: [UC] Auntie Ruth's Hemp Bar
I dropped by the Green Line Mennonite Coffee Shop and Gin Joint this
evening for my customary Vanilla Chai Grande Con Molto Abbraccissimo and
was brought up short by the sight of a friendly familiar-looking green
leaf waving over a display of "Auntie Ruth's Hemp Bars". Fearing that I
was hallucinating again, I wiped my glasses on a Kleenex and peered
closely at the display. Yep, there they were -- "Auntie Ruth's Hemp
Bars" in multiple flavors: mocha java, panama red, thai stick, and
tutti-frutti, two bucks apiece.
Whoa, I thought, ye olde UC Village gets more and more like Amsterdam
everyday. I picked up one of the mocha java bars and waved it at the
young lady behind the counter with a broad smile.
"No way!" I enthused.
"Way!" she replied with a wink.
"Sweet!" I countered.
"Sweet!" she replied.
So I sat down at my table on the corner, watching the Penn bicycle
cops, who would come rushing up to the Failsafe Line in formation, then
screech to a stop, pop some wheelies, and scream north on 43rd Street.
Every now and then they would get tangled up with some hapless UCD
newbie Safety Ambassador, whom the Penn fuzz seem to regard as hopeless
amateurs, and a skirmish would ensue, with the predictable result that
the UCD guy would get left in the dirt with some bent spokes.
As anybody who's been in this neighborhood more than 20 seconds knows,
that intersection is one of the liveliest in the hood. If it's not the
Penn's Angels and the Ambassadors mixing it up, there are the
Explosively Formed Dudes, or EFD's, raging anarchists who rush out of
the bushes at irregular intervals and whack the bejesus out of the UC
Review box with baseball bats. Sort of a West Philly version of the old
Chinese Fire Drill, although I know Uyehara is gonna cite me for
derogatory orientalist slander for using that phrase.
Anyhow, the Hemp Bar proved to be a major disappointment. First of all,
it was composed of bird seed pasted together with soybean juice and a
couple of carob chips. Secondly, it didn't do anything. I sat there for
a full half hour and nothing happened. Reminded me of the old Fugs'
song:
"I waited thirty minutes for my body to sing
I waited and I waited but I couldn't feel a thing, you know
I couldn't get high. Oh oh no!
Don't know why! Oh yeah yeah!"
More in sorrow than in anger, I went back and carefronted the chick at
the counter.
"Look, I don't know how to say this, but what you advertize as 'hemp
power bars' have absolutely no discernible psychedelic effect. May I
inquire about your refund policy?"
She looked up at me, smiled gently, reached out and stroked my cheek.
"Brother, you just gotta wait for it to kick in, know what I mean?"
I looked again at her, and this time a faint scent of patchouli wafted
its way toward me. She was staring deep into my eyes, and her eyeballs
were pulsating like a lava lamp. The coffee shop muzak was playing "If
you go to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair..."
Strobe lights flickered, and the traffic on Baltimore slowed down to a
lazy crawl.
"Whoa! Duddetttetttette...." I stammered.
"Feel the buzz?" she crooned.
Clutching my chai, I staggered back to my table. A yellow submarine
floated tranquilly into the Park, no doubt on its way to the Bowl. Then
a curious convoy made its way east along the Avenue -- three luminescent
green Hummers preceded a whacking great long Penn Transit bus, carrying
all of three passengers, then a Penn Escort minivan, followed by a float
decorated with bright red poppies topped by Amy Gutmann in a bikini
waving enthusiastically to the throng. Then the Penn marching band
playing "Louie, Louie".
Just then Siano rolled up with a camera glued to his eye.
"Dude!" I exclaimed. "Did you see that? Better yet, did you get that all
on video? Man, this sure beats 15 minutes of the deer in the cemetery!"
"See what?" he replied.
--
Ross Bender
http://rossbender.org/mqrtoc.html
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