Friday, 19 July 2013

A few reasons why I married a black woman... - Web 2.0 - RSS

My wife is beautiful. Not in the sense of American standards of beauty, rail thin models with fake tits and botox; she has the essence of true beauty. She has a powerful spirit. She's smart and funny and I can talk with her for hours. She's a big woman. Not fat, at least not to me, I suppose that's in the eye of the beholder. She has gorgeous curves, deep, chocolate colored eyes, and the most glorious smile I've ever seen. My wife is a big, beautiful, black woman.

The thing is, I can't help thinking about the standards of what "beauty" is. Ask five people and you'll probably get five different answers. Thinking about this, I've come to realize that one's idea of beauty usually stems from one's upbringing, and what you are exposed to throughout your life.

To me, it was never strange to date outside my race. I grew up in a bad neighborhood, so my mom sent me to a boarding school to get me off the streets. This school had a very mixed population, it was a free school for under priviledged children, kids from single parent and poor homes. Hell, it doesn't come as a surprise to me it was mixed, there are poor folks of every color and I was one of them.

In any case, the school was very mixed, but primarily Black, then White, Hispanic, Asian etc. Maybe 70% of the school was black, primarily because of it's location near many predominantly black neighborhoods. At an early age I was exposed to people of many races, so it was never really strange. By comparison, I went to college at a very segregated, primarily white school and it felt like a culture shock.

As I was saying, it never occurred to me to only date white women. Hell I only got out of school on weekends, so if I only dated white girls it'd be on the weekends, or my pick of the two white girls in my class who probably weren't interested anyway. My first serious relationship was with a black woman. I've dated other women as well since then, but in the end I find black women the most attractive women hands down, maybe followed by asian women.

To me, dark skin is healthy skin. When I see a woman with pale, white skin, I see a woman who is, in my eyes, unhealthy. Also, I like bigger women, curvy women. Unfortunately, if you were to place a curvaceous black woman next to a white woman with a similar build, the black woman would be appealing to me, while the white woman would look like varicose veins, saggy tits, a big gut, and cellulite. Black women are just built bigger, they were made to have curves. And I like a soft, curvy woman.

For some reason, again, this is just my personal preference, I don't like pink nipples. Okay, that's not true, I love all breasts, but I'm not really aroused by pink nipples the ways I am seeing some dark breasts with nice brown nipples. Also, tying back to the generally larger build of black women, one out of ten thousand white women may have a nice round ass like a black woman. I don't know what is in these genes, but I like what's in those jeans.

I like black hair, especially natural hair. My wife has a beautiful, puffy afro, her hair is natural and soft and she's not ashamed of it. I think it is beautiful. I like running my hands in it, I like the way it smells and feels. I love black cooking. I would eat soul food all day long and keep eating it as I die of a heart coronary. I know it's bad for me, I just don't care. Just shut up and pass me those fucking collard greens and sweet potatos.

Finally, I like black women's attitudes. I'm generalizing a bit, but in my experience, white women talk, black women do. Too often I hear about white women in bad relationship, I had a lot of female friends in college who would bitch about boyfriends treating them badly and generally abusing them. I rarely hear about black women putting up with this. Hell, there's ben a few times when my wife and I have gotten into big spats and she's threatened to leave or told me to go back to my mother's. Granted, while this wasn't an appealing option, I like the fact that she speaks her mind. She's straight forward and doesn't play games or deal in riddles. If she has a problem with me, she tells me, and I fix it or we compromise. As I've said before, I value honesty over nicety. Honesty makes a relationship work, niceness just prolongs the inevitable breakup.

These are a few of the reasons I married a black woman. See, I've never viewed my wife as black so much as I just saw her as a woman, a wonderful, strong, and opinionated woman. I don't want a fucking trophy for a wife, I prefer real women, thank you very much. I married a woman who listens to me, and who I listen to in return. She's a woman who is willing to compromise and work to make our relationship and our bond a strong and unbreakable one.

The fact that she's black is a non-issue, at least to us. She's black, I'm white, and the only people who care about that are the ones who sneer at us in public. Fuck them, if they don't like it they can go somewhere else. They're not in the relationship, I am. The most important thing for me is that she's a woman who loves me and who I love in return.





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Thursday, 18 July 2013

The "That Guy" List - Entertainment - Humor

If you've ever spent some time in a bar or club you've probably seen the guy that's engaging in some sort of behavior that makes you question if your right for wanting to drag him outside by his faux-hawk, douse him in gasoline, and flick your cigarette at him.

If your sneaking into bars underage you probably are this guy.

Which ever the case may be Big Duckets presents the following as a public service to stop the current and future bar going generations from making these moronic mistakes that do little more than enrage your fellow man.The "That Guy" List

1."Trying To Pick Up the Obviously Uninterested Girl" Guy

"Trying To Pick Up the Obviously Uniterested Girl" Guy walks into the bar and proceeds to raise his Blood Alchohol Content higher then total fucking cost of the war on terror and the war on drugs combined. After sufficiently irritating the shit out of everyone in his immediate vacinity with uncalled for high fives and full on man hugs, he locks in on the lady in which he has the least possible chance of scoring with. In his current state of inebriation he begins to bore his target into a coma with tales of the following:The "wicked sick party" that he and his roommates threw last weekend.What his father/mother does for a living.His Honda CivicHis major.His Love of her major.His Love of everything she loves.His Love for her.The supernal connection he knows she can feel between them.

After about twenty minutes of contemplating suicide as viable option of escape the lady wants out. This generally leads to the involvement of bar security. This is where "That Guy" really shines. "Trying To Pick Up the Obviously Uninterested Girl" Guy, will now try to convince the bouncer/doorman that he and this young woman are indeed friends and have been so for quite a while. Not realizing that when he took his last trip to pisser the object of his affection offered everything but a party in her rectum to be saved. Try as he might "That Guy" simply cannot understand why this woman wants to be saved from him and refuses to let her be. Which usually ends up with "That Guy" being asked to leave the premises.

2."Pick a Fight With The Sober Bouncer Two Times Your Size" Guy

"Pick a Fight With The Sober Bouncer Two Times Your Size" Guy is sometimes a direct result of a bad time with "Trying To pick up the Obviously Uninterested Girl" Guy, but doesn't have to be. Sometimes this "That Guy" comes about due to the fact that your typical bouncer could give two flaming buckets of rat piss less about the following:What you do for a living.How much money you have.How much money your planning on spending.Who you know.

However "Pick a Fight With The Sober Bouncer Two Times Your Size" Guy seldom understands this due to the fact that he is primarily concerned with bolstering his self esteem over his under sized, under used man meat. But no matter how small his package may be, you can be sure that he'll let you know:

He know's the owner.He spends thousands of dollars a week in this bar.He's been coming to this place before it opened.He's got a good lawyer.He IS a good lawyer.How fucked the bouncer is once he makes this phone call.

3."The Money Waving, Ignorant, Impatient, Jack Ass" Guy

Ahhh, "The Money Waving, Ignorant, Impatient, Jack Ass" Guy... This one is more likely to be the reason that the bartender has a bad attitude by the time he/she gets to you. This fuckstick has been waving his money in the air since he stepped up to the bar, ignoring the other hundred people there, like he's the only one who needs a drink. Chances are his wait time has been much shorter than the rest of the people who are patiently waiting for the bartender to get to them. You can pick this guy out pretty easily, he'll be:

Waving his cash around leaning over the bar.Clicking, whistling, or reaching out for every passing bartender who is making a drink for the person ahead of himPlacing multiple concurrent orders (Ex: I'll have 3 shots of jack....make that four...make that five!).Monopolizing the bartender's time to leave a single solitary dollar.Considering the dollar he left a "Hook-up"Expecting a free drink for "Hooking it up"

4."I Look Like A Fag and Need To Fix My Collar" Guy

How much more can be said about america's favorite douchebag. You know this guy. Everyone knows this guy. More then likely still in college and if not, probably a college drop out. "I Look Like A Fag and Need To Fix My Collar" Guy Is usually never alone. Most of the time these "That Guy"'s travel in packs and are primarily comprised of all of the "That Guy" attributes. Moving from one stage to the others with flawless transistion.

So in short, dont be a fuck head, keep your opinion and personal life to yourself, fix your goddamned collar and dont be That Guy.

Copyright 2007 Big Duckets





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Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Help! I Lied to My Girlfriend! - Relationships - Dating

My girlfriend of two years sent me a nice email while I was working. I saw it, read it, and then did not respond as I wanted to get back to work and didn't think anything of it. When I finished working, she had texted me asking why I had not responded. I told her that I had just read it, and that it was nice. She had looked in my email (to make sure it had sent) and saw that I had read it many hours before. She confronted me on it and told me that it is hard for her to trust people, and that she doesn't know if she can trust me any more.

I feel terrible and apologized many times, but am not sure what else I can do. Any ideas? Thanks!============================Hello!

Wait a minute here. First of all, what in the hell is she doing going through your email??? That is your PRIVATE email and she has no business going through it any more than you have going through hers. Change your password right now!

Second, you lied to her? Big fucking deal!!! Do you honestly think she hasn't lied to you? Come on already! Here's the reality: EVERYONE, BUT EVERYONE lies. It's an ingrained part of our communication systems. EVERYONE does it! Anyone that claims they don't is a damn liar!

For her to try to hold you to some unreasonable standard as to have to make up for her feelings being hurt by someone else is pure rubbish - made only the worse by you accepting such a ridiculous responsibility! You're not her therapist; you're her boyfriend, (right?)

You've already apologized and that's that. Now, you need to go to her and ask her what in the fuck she's doing checking up on you and what you say. You were busy - that's it! It's not a big deal and you simply tried to find the most expedient way to deal with the issue which was to lie. BIG FUCKING DEAL!!! Nobody died. Nobody was sent to jail. Nobody's Christmas was ruined. Sheesh!

Tell her to let it go already and that you're not going to be responsible for making up for all the hurts of her past. If that's what she's looking for - total and complete honesty - she's going to wind up being one very sad, very lonely lady.

And YOU stop being such a pussy and putting up with all of this nonsense! It's time to man-up here my brother. Stop feeling terrible and stop apologizing or you're going to lose this girl. She needs your strength, not your weakness and guilt.

Best regards...------------------------------------------------------------------Have a love, dating, relationship, sex or man/woman question? You can write to me by going to: /ask_question.asp for answers. For more information about my books, "Being a Man in a Woman's Worldtm" (volumes I and II), and other products visit: Check out the discussion group at: /group/beingaman and check out the new BAM! TV at

Copyright (c) 2008, Dr. Dennis W. NederAll rights reserved.





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Tuesday, 16 July 2013

Metallica's death magnetic: the metal edge review - Entertainment

Metallica's death magnetic: fuck you, it's great

So Death Magnetic leaked Tuesday night, to no one's great surprise. The narrative being pushed is that a French record store (not named) got copies early and began selling them, and now it's out on the net courtesy of some customer. I don't think that's what happened at all. I think, as is so often the case, it was leaked by someone on the inside. But however it happened, the music's out there, and now it's time for everyone to have their say.

I think,Metallica's in a tough spot with this album. A lot of people these days seem to hate them, or at least get off on abusing them online. They get ridiculed for obvious missteps like Some Kind Of Monster as brutally as for totally extramusical "offenses" like the photo of James Hetfield, Rob Trujillo and their wives or girlfriends or whoever out shopping in shorts and sandals. And I think it's time motherfuckers backed off a little. Fine--Load and ReLoad were not good albums, and S&M was an interesting idea, less than brilliantly executed. But you know what? I've spent a fair amount of time listening to St. Anger over the past couple months, sort of psyching myself up/steeling myself to the reality of Death Magnetic, and it's a much more interesting album than I remembered it being back in 2003, when I listened to it once at the label's offices, went back to my office and wrote a scorching review that got reprinted in about ten alt-weeklies across the country and prob ably earned me a spot on Lars Ulrich's enemies list. I'm not gonna go into total historical-revisionism mode here and now, but trust me: there's a lot to like about St. Anger. Go back and listen with an open mind, and when you're listening to it, remind yourself that it's not about you. They didn't make that album to fuck with longtime fans, and they didn't make it by accident. They made it because it was the album they wanted to make, and it sounds that way (right down to Lars's drums) because that's how they wanted it to sound. If you don't like it, that's your business, but they weren't thinking about you when they made it. And here's the really interesting thing--it now stands revealed as an album that must be heard in the light of Death Magnetic. Not because the new album is a sequel, but rather because DM doesn't sound anything like Anger.

It sounds like is a confident, artistically mature metal band that's no longer running scared. The advance quotes about how the band was attempting to go back and rediscover their 1986 selves? Not entirely bullshit. But that's not the whole story, not even close.

What Metallica's done is write a bunch of riffs that sound like outtakes from Master Of Puppets and...And Justice For All, and interweave them with riffs from the boogie-rock version of Metallica that made Load and ReLoad. And more often than not, it works. The album's first three songs, "That Was Just Your Life," "The End Of The Line" and "Broken, Beat & Scarred" are all fast, tough thrashers with killer guitar solos and the exact mix of riffs I described two sentences ago. Things start off with a heartbeat, and some melancholy guitar straight off the Black Album, but then we're off to the races, the riffage sawing away at your ear as Hetfield barks like a demented auctioneer. If "That Was Just Your Life" was five minutes long instead of seven, it would be a total victory. The same is true of the next two tracks, which are just under eight and six-and-a-half minutes long, respectively; only a failure to edit, not weakness of fundamental structure, keeps them from being cl assic Metallica anthems. Pretty much every song on this album is, if not a home run, at least a triple. Even "The Day That Never Comes," which I didn't much like as a first single (I would have preferred they come out of the gate with "Cyanide," and now that I've heard it, "The End Of The Line" would be a good choice, too), works better within the context of the album as a whole. And the closing one-two punch is phenomenal: just as they did on Master Of Puppets and...And Justice For All, they end this disc with an extended instrumental, the 10-minute "Suicide & Redemption," followed by the headlong, crushing "My Apocalypse."

Death Magnetic is a unified, solid album, something you can't really say about St. Anger or the Loads. The only song that disrupts its flow is "The Unforgiven III," which brings in piano and cellos for a sort of Ennio Morricone feel--no surprise, given they've come onstage to the composer's "The Ecstasy Of Gold" for years. No, it doesn't stay in that territory; it's "Unforgiven III," not "Nothing Else Matters II," and it gets heavy as fuck by the end, while retaining a cinematic grandeur. It's far from a bad song, but trilogies are a bad idea, and the melody and mood this new chapter offers would probably work just a little better if it was allowed to stand on its own, rather than being shackled to the half-decent original song and the wretched sequel.

There's something else important about this album--it sounds like a band. Like four people playing music in a room. A big, reverby room, sure, but still, there's an organic feel here that's impossible to deny. Rick Rubin's hippie-Zen, absentee-landlord approach to the studio is the butt of lots of jokes (including some from artists he's "produced"), but he gotten truly strong performances out of Metallica, so credit where due.

And that brings me to what Death Magnetic says about St. Anger. There are three immediately discernible differences between this album and the last one: Hetfield's vocals, Ulrich's drums, and Hammett's guitar. There are solos (lots of 'em, and damn good ones), the snare sounds like a drum instead of a trash-can lid (indeed, the kit is recorded super-dry, for a sound that reminds me of the early '90s work of New York art-thrashers Prong), and James has recovered his ability to stay on pitch. Which reveals something we should have known all along--that he let his voice crack and go raw on St. Anger because his delivery of that album's lyrics was as much a reflection of his inner turmoil as the words themselves. That's why the drums sounded that way, that's why there were no guitar solos St. Anger was about pain. Relentless pain, with no relief. Metal's punishing, repetitive riffs build tension, which is relieved through the catharsis of the solo. Metallica weren't interested in offering catharsis last time out - they wanted to shove our faces in their pain. Not so this time. It's clear to me after only two and a half listens to Death Magnetic that Metallica have emerged from a defensive crouch they've been in for years, and it's good to have them back. This album is like an armadillo unrolling itself to reveal a dragon. Real metal's been on the upswing lately, with older bands delivering massive albums and new bands building on tradition in thrilling ways. Death Magnetic goes on the shelf alongside Iron Maiden's A Matter Of Life And Death, Testament's The Formation Of Damnation, and Judas Priest's Nostradamus: I didn't think they still had it in 'em, and I'm really glad they do. I haven't loved a Metallica album since...And Justice For All, but Death Magnetic is likely to wind up my Album of the Year.





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Monday, 15 July 2013

Facebook - Relationships - Dating

First, you have to look at your mutual friends. Obviously, you couldnt be looking at her profile if you dont have a mutual friend. Youre not cruising Facebook youre just looking through other peoples friends.

Joe Smith sends you a friend request, and you dont know him, so you look at his friends. You see Mary Thompson is one of his friends, and you add her as a friend.

And of course Mary Thompson confirms you as a friend because the internet is a fucking popularity contest and everyone wants a lot of friends! Facebook and MySpace are like having 5,000 friends that you never talk to! They could give a fuck about me, but they are still all of my buddies.

But when I show up as their happy friend, it makes them feel popular. Being on the internet is like regressing back to junior high school. Dont you feel bad on Facebook when you see someone with like two friends? You think to yourself, oh, what a loser, hes got two friends! Its ridiculous; its such a popularity contest.

So anyway, you go to this womans profile and add her as a friend. She will always add you, and then you send her an email.

Subject line: Man, Joe knew we would be

I always like the dot-dot-dot because when it comes down to marketing yourself, you have to think like a business. Most people in the subject line of an email write hello. What the fuck, hello? Delete.

But you know when you get good junk email, and you swear that you dont want to open it, and when you do open it, youre like, oh shit, I got caught again! How did you get caught? They had a good subject line, right? So your subject line has to be something good that will make her want to open your email.

And then the body of the email: that we would be great friends, so I added you. So now that youre my really good friend, can you help me out with one thing? Who the hell is Joe Smith? He just appeared one day as my friend, and Im hoping you can hope me unlock the mystery of Joe Smith.

You do the smiley face so that she knows that you are funny and clever.

Shes going to open it, giggle and laugh, and shes going to answer you back. You just became her buddy. Then your messages will go back and forth just like any other email exchange.

You have to get clever. Most guys are so bad at emailing.





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Sunday, 14 July 2013

Surrender... - Relationships - Dating

I've been doing a lot of reading on inner psychology and spiritualityrecently and I have noticed something that has reduced my approachanxiety like 90%.The idea is that of surrendering to the moment.I never really bought into the idea that approach anxiety and LMR arehardwired, my thinking behind this is two-fold through experiencerather than theorizing.1. After you have done three or so approaches in a night the AA isgone. I have also met guys like Debonair Dave who don't haveapproach anxiety.2. I have had a lot of lays upwards of 20 with no LMR within an houror 2... So how can this hard-wired thinking pattern be turned off thismany times?So I've been actively looking at the reasons behind both of thesecreated phenomenas...Back to surrendering... to me approach anxiety has always felt like afight between wanting to get the girl and wanting to avoidembarrassment (that was a couple years ago) or avoid having to do alot of work. So there were clearly two conflicting drives.S o in reading The Power of Now Eckhart Tolle talks about letting goof both the past and the future and focusing purely on the present.This piece of advice in of itself reduced my approach anxiety,because if you truly do let go of past thinking, it doesn't allow you tothink about past failures, or your lack of success with women orreasons from before not to approach the set, because that is notoccuring here and now. Here and now you have nothing. In a bar orclub or on the street or wherever you ay want to do an approach youonly have the present. Nothing else matters. Her reaction is in thefuture, so there is no reason to worry about that either. When you goin the field you need to be hyper focused on the present. Don't thinkfollow the strongest desire you have.If you are reading this, then the strongest desire you have is to meetand fuck new women. Don't be ashamed of this desire. It's the onlydesire that keeps us as a species surviving. A lot of guys hide theirdesires, (A qui ck caveat obviously you don't approach a girl and askher if she wants to fuck that's not showing you're desires, it's justshowing your lack of social intuition) But what I mean is don't hideyour desires internally. It is a vital step in becoming a man to come togrips with the dark sides of your desires. Mainly your desires to fuck,kill, and dominate. These are natural human emotions that haveshaped the world; in a way they are the only desires that actuallymatter.The second part of my technique is to surrender to your desires. Stopfighting them... Accept that you feel Approach Anxiety at the sametime you feel the desire to approach, stop trying to feel moreconfident or stronger, or more prepared, and start focusing on whatyou WANT to do right now. In this moment when you see that girl,what do you most want to do that won't land you in jail.All that in fighting in your mind that clutter has NOTHING to do withreality. The present is all you have and as was said in Fight Club " This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time". You can't doanything to change the past and the way to changing the future willoccur in the present.So after you have come to the realization that the present is all wehave, and surrender the fight amongst your emotions, you gain thepower to approach almost without fear.The final step to AA reduction in my mind is to let go of your outcome,this falls in line with the other areas of thinking in terms of anyoutcome occurring in the future and thus being completelyunimportant at the time...Tony Robbins calls acting in the moment getting out of your head intoyour heart. I think it's more about gaining an element of control overyourself and not letting thinking or "the mind" to get in the way ofaction. Actions are what produce results not thinking. Thinkingwithout acting has never produced anything. Even philosophy lead tothe action of writing which is what produced the records of thesethoughts.So how do you actually start on the road to getting out of your headand acting?The first step is to become aware of what you are feeling at any givenmoment. Reducing the amount of white noise in your head byshutting off the deductive thought process and focusing on bodysensations. What do you feel right now from your head to your toes?Feel that and then slowly start taking assessment of your mood.When you can start to identify your mood through feeling, rather thanthinking, you are on your way to being fully present in the momentwhich allows you to act without filtering.

S

Would you like more information on how to approach and attract the women of your dreams? If so, check out my FREE 7-Part Video course at





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Saturday, 13 July 2013

Woodstock: Gods Tears of Joys - Entertainment - Music

Though Woodstock was a sublime event for many of its 500,000 attendees, it had been something less for the 400 in triage for bad acid trips, not to mention the three who died straight. And though it launched some of its 36 bands - notably Santana, CSN, Sly and the Family Stone - it was a downer for others. Pete Townshend of the Who called the historic festival of peace and love "horrible." Grace Slick of the Jefferson Airplane described it as "a bunch of stupid slobs in the mud." Barry Melton of Country Joe and the Fish noted: "When they tell me it was great, I know they saw the movie and they weren't at the gig." Among other star performers who preferred to forget the event were Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Jerry Garcia. "We were just plumb atrocious," said the Dead's frontman. "It was raining to boot and I was high [on Czech acid] and I saw blue balls of electricity bouncing across the stage and leaping onto my guitar." Throughout their set, the Dead were buffeted b y 60 mile per hour winds, and their roadies were screaming that the groaning stage was about to collapse. After the Dead escaped unscathed, Credence Clearwater came on, followed by Janis with her Kozmic Blues Band. Propped up by three roadies, the Queen of the Blues stumbled on stage clutching a bottle of booze in each hand. She'd just shot up in one of the portapotties, and had chased the smack with tequila and vodka, the same triple that would kill her a year later. Stage cameraman, Henry Diltz, recalled that she was "tortured and crying into the microphone. She really screamed in agony on those songs." After climaxing the set with her signature Ball & Chain, she retreated to her tent and fixed again. When her manager called in, announcing the arrival of a Life reporter, she bellowed back: "I'm not talking to fucking anybody! Fuck him, man, and fuck the world." Woodstock was a bitter disappointment compared to Monterey Pop which had launched her career two years before. T he same was true for her former lover, Jimi Hendrix. Since his apotheosis at Monterey, he had toured relentlessly and had become the highest paid rock performer. But his Experience had broken up three months prior to Woodstock. At the same time he had been busted for heroin possession in Toronto. Desperately in need of rest, he had taken a summer trip to Morocco. Here the king's clairvoyant had predicted his imminent death. Returning from abroad, the guitarist retired to his rented mansion in Woodstock where he tried to put together a new band, Gypsy Sun and Rainbows. The group was under-rehearsed and, in spite of Hendrix's objections, his manager booked him as the headliner and closer for Woodstock. He was scheduled to perform on Sunday night but, due to delays, didn't come to stage until early Monday morning when only 30,000 rainsoaked diehards remained in Yasgur's muddy, trash-ridden alfalfa field. Recalled his girlfriend, Leslie Day, who nursed him in a farm shack behi nd the stage: "Jimi seemed really sick, or really high, and was sweating bullets. I was feeding him Vitamin C and having him suck on lemons. He didn't feel the band knew the songs well enough or had had enough rehearsal. He was stressed out." "Stressed" was a euphemism. Jimi had far more on his mind that morning of August 18, 1969 than an unprepared back-up band. His trial was coming up in Toronto and he feared he would be convicted and his career ruined. His close friend, Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones, had been murdered six weeks before. And his own manager was extorting millions from him and conspiring with the mob. Moreover, Jimi hadn't slept in three days and he was freaking on the bad Czech acid from the backstage water coolers. These anxieties were the true apolitical ingredients of his excruciating Star Spangled Banner, the high point of his show for most. As for the rest of the set, he apologized to the audience. "I know it's not together." Recalled Leslie Aday , "He was unhappy with his performance and just wanted to get away where no one could find him." Even his long-time engineer, Eddie Kramer, was alarmed. "Never in his two and a half years with the Experience had he exhibited such disregard for professionalism," he later wrote. "I remember worrying that Woodstock might be the beginning of the end for Jimi Hendrix." And so it was. Exactly thirteen months later the greatest guitar player that ever lived was dead. And three weeks after that the other legendary Woodstock refugee, the Queen of the Blues, joined him. Even so, Woodstock was not a dark memory for Jimi Hendrix. "50,000 halos outshined the mud and history," he wrote in a poem later on. "We washed and drank in God's tears of joy. And for once, and for everyone, the truth was not still a mystery





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