I just returned to Chicago from a trip down the west coast.  Adding to the usual amount of sporadic shooting and hassles hippies and psychedelic VW microbuses got, I picked up a heated debate on a Newport, OR radio talk show.  Newport is on the coast highway.  You have to pass through.  The locals didn’t see it that way.  They wanted roadblocks on both sides of town to keep the freaks out.  Hippie vehicles...

The SIU Acid Queen was exotic and bizarrely out of place in the supermarket checkout line, helplessly trapped in unrelenting white fluorescent.  The cashier was uneasy.  “Three fifty six.” “The chicken is still conscious,” she replied, “It’s screaming.”  The cashier called security. I followed the Acid Queen out.  “Taj!” She turned sharply.  I felt her eyes pierce me all the way to the back of...