On The Road to The Brotherhood

598135-R1-02-2The Brotherhood of Eternal Love
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Thu Oct 26, 2006 12:03 pm |
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The Brotherhood of Eternal Love

(Images: Highway 101 outside King City. We got your Acid Test right
here. My distant black & white kinfolk, Broderick Crawford, calling
in a colorful, but dreadful Shock & Awe attack on King City.)

http://rougeknights.blogspot.com

After a stop for lunch in King City California, James let Keith
drive. No sooner did we pick up speed and come around that big bend
in Highway 101 going South, then Keith spotted a Highway Patrolman
way ahead giving someone a ticket. He must have felt us coming as we
felt the black Dodge slowly moving to the right. James and I waited
for Keith to make a steering correction, but, none was forthcoming.
As my stomach muscles tightened, Jame’s hand moved on the dashboard
instinctively. This was a huge cop. He must have been about six foot
five. Was Keith going in to bag him as a trophy?

We could see his wrap-around mirrored sunglasses taking us in,
assessing our trajectory, and it didn’t look good. Like a deer
caught in headlights, he was frozen, not knowing what to do.
Realizing it was too late to get around to the ditch side of the
car, he straightened up and sucked in his giant frame, he trying to
maintain his cool and not show the guy behind the wheel any fear,
guessing correctly that he was at the complete mercy of a friggen
freak.

“God have mercy, what kind of nut do we have here!”

James now braced his other hand on the ceiling of the car, just in
case Keith was not a good shot, and went plowing into the parked
car.

We both knew better then to say anything to Keith as this might
incite him to try to get even closer to the fuzz without hitting
him. Keith was just wanting to put a little scare into him, make
him crap his pants, perhaps? But, you never know for sure when drugs
are involved.

Sitting in the back seat in back of James, I knew I was going to get
a good close-up of Fat-ass as we sped by. Throwing his arms atop the
car, the Patrolman plastered himself against the car. It was a
crucifixion scene.

“Shrrrroooooooooooommm!”

I got a good look at a big black gun as we flew by.

James turned to Keith and gave him a look.

“Fuck that was close! Uh-oh, he’s running to his cruiser!” James
spoke as he looked behind us.

I had quit speaking, had been observing silence for four months, I
grown weary of the bullshit, especially Keith’s bullshit. Ever since
we got into speed he was hard to shut-up. Speed had the opposite
affect on me, after all I had been conducting very deep
conversations inside myself since I could remember. And, after being
up for three days, Keith announced he was a god, even perhaps, god,
and I guessed this is what he was doing now, proving god was above
the law, and, god was merciful. But would god obey the siren and
pull to the side of the road?

It was one of those great Hollywood walks as he sauntered up to the
window and bent his tall frame over. He then took his shades off his
big o’ head, and took in Keith with his steel gray eyes. Then came a
big o’ grin on his face as he looked in Keith dead in the eyes, who
made no attempt to hide the truth he did that on purpose. The Fuzz
looked at me and James, and all we could do was concur. There was no
other explanation.

“You’re too much.” The patrolman spoke, trying to keep the upper
hand, show us and this madman behind the wheel that he was not
shooken up, not give him that, the little shit. If he had dragged
Keith from the car in anger, jacked him up, and put him under
arrest, then you got to take the little freak on drugs to town and
share him with the other officers, who would probably get a good
laugh.

“Get going!”

Keith put the Dodge in gear, and when we were out of sight of The
Law, James had Keith pull over, it the last time he ever let him
behind the wheel.

No sooner did we arrive at our destination a house on the beach in
Laguna Beach, then the occupants were jamming needles into their
arm, they shooting up the best batch of LSD to date (or so they
said).

James had told us these were big mucky mucks in the Acid World, and
I assumed if you had the guts to shot LSD, this would be proof of
how high up in Movement you were. There were about five of these
surfer dudes, their surfboards and wetsuits all around the place. I
wondered how turned on and dropped out any surfer could be, I living
in L.A. in 1963 thru 1965, I going to Uni High where there were
allot of surfers, and the Surfer Consciousness abound. Many of my
schoolmates had bleached blond hair, drove a Volkswagen, and wore a
German Iron Cross around their neck. I considered surfers to be
Aryan types. And, now that the summer of Love had broke out up
North, sure, why not shoot LSD and go ride a wave. How fun! Beats
Cop-Killing out on the Highway, we led to our doom from some god
wanna-be from England who claimed he was descend from the Kings of
Ireland, and now on the beach, Keith never took off his coat, he
thin blooded like all the Limys back in Britain.

I refused to have someone tie my arm off and shoot me up. I just sat
there, stupefied in a stinking pile of kelp like the rest of the
L.A. morons who clung to the sea for help, for escape from the
gargantuan identity crisis that lay sprawled out for fifty miles,
seven millions souls captured in their little boxes and tin cars.
Shooting acid is going to get you somewhere? What a fucking bummer!

James got bored with shooing off the zillion kelp flies that came to
rest on you like a pile of shit, and got up and walked over to this
gorgeous blond in a bikini who was sunbathing with a million kelp
flies all over her.

“Excuse me!” James spoke, his gentle eyes glinting behind his gold
framed antique glasses, he looking like a French doctor from the
19th century.

“I just want to know how you can lay her and not be bothered by
these flies!”

The beautiful young woman raised her head, and with a smile
answered;

“Oh, you get used to them!”

I wanted to asked her how she got a tan with all these flies
blocking out the sunlight.

“Oh, I just clap my hands every ten minutes or so.”

Just love your speckled tan!

Only after I got a computer and started doing research for my
biography, did I come to suspect these surfers were `The Brotherhood
of Eternal Love’. I can not say for sure, for, nothing was for sure
in those days when it came to drugs. In my next posts I will provide
evidence that this was the Brotherhood, and there is a thing
called “Christ Consciousness'” that may have bid Bush to go after
the Evil One, the “Beast of Babylon” because he is on a Trip, a
Christ-trip. And, he gets a goodly dose of this trip most everyday,
in a big needle stuck in his cop-like ass, he keen on putting all of
Islam under arrest in the name of Baby Jesus, the only mortal ever
allowed to have a Colorful Life because he was the Son of God.

When I first took LSD men still wore hats on the bus and buried
their faces in black and white newsprint. I was on the 38 Geary bus
when I read LSD had become outlawed. The Vietnamese people were
being murdered because they saw too much red.

Vic claimed the actor Broderick Crawford was his mother’s cousin. He
sure looked allot like Big Fred Broderick who had the identical
bushy eyebrows. Crawford starred in the T.V. series `Highway
Patrol’. When you add Skip Sutter to the equation we might be seeing
the source of `My Brother the Cop’ which might make a great T.V.
series about two brothers who go back home to live with the folks in
the 90s because their lives are a complete failure. One is a Super
Cop, and the other a Super Freak, and they can never get along.
Their wives have divorced them for unique reasons, but, have
remained best friends. One is a world traveler and time-share
salesperson. The other is a famous esteem spokesperson whose
motto “I just gotta be me again!” has made her a multimillionaire.

Jon Presco

“The Brotherhood of Eternal Love

The Brotherhood of Eternal Love operated a psychedelics distribution
network throughout the United States, most notably in California
where the organization received large shipments of hashish from
Pakistan and Afghanistan, helped by Welshman Howard Marks (now a
prominent figure in the cannabis culture). With funds from their
hashish smuggling, the organization produced and distributed large
amounts of the legendary “Orange Sunshine” LSD. The organization was
headquartered on a ranch in Garner Valley, near Idyllwild. Members
paid the Weather Underground to break Timothy Leary out of prison.
The organization evolved from Timothy Leary’s League for Spiritual
Discovery. Many of the Brotherhood’s members were deeply religious
people who viewed marijuana and acid as sacraments. Many of its
members were interested in peace and in ending the Vietnam war. A
1972 Rolling Stone article dubbed them the “Hippie Mafia.”

http://www.signaturebooks.co.uk/cgi-bin/ai.cgi?ISBN=1904879950

BILLY HITCHCOCK (until the summer of 1969) and Ronald Stark (after
the summer of 1969) were successive investors in a West Coast church
called the Brotherhood of Eternal Love. As Brotherhood patrons,
Hitchcock and Stark acquired ingredients for two different
generations of LSD-25 distributed under the name Orange Sunshine.
Hitchcock Orange Sunshine amounted to about ten million hits
produced in Windsor, California by Nick Sand and Tim Scully until
June, 1969. It was endorsed by Timothy Leary “above all other
brands” and attributed with “cosmic influences” ( Lee and Shlain,
243). After Hitchcock’s money laundering was uncovered and his
Orange Sunshine dried up, an unknown who went by the name Stark
showed up to sponsor production. 1960s historians speculate that
some of Stark’s Orange Sunshine may not have been LSD at all.

Legend has it there was a girl named Sunshine, a flower child, who
inspired chemists, financiers, and high priests alike.

http://www.sunshine69.com/OS.html

The Brotherhood of Eternal Love

The Brotherhood of Eternal Love operated a psychedelics distribution
network throughout the United States, most notably in California
where the organisation received large shipments of hashish from
Pakistan and Afghanistan, helped by Welshman Howard Marks (now a
prominant figure in the cannabis culture). They are famed for paying
the Weather Underground to break Timothy Leary out of prison.

http://www.nerdshit.com/archive/2005/07/24/lords_of_acid_h/index.html

Timothy Leary on Nick Sand

Question: After moving west to California in the late 60s, you
became connected with a group called the Brotherhood of Eternal
Love. In 1973, Nicholas Sand, a chemist for the Brotherhood, was
arrested in St. Louis for operating two LSD laboratories.
Indictments in California around the same time also named Ronald H.
Stark, who allegedly operated an LSD lab in Belgium. In the book
Acid Dreams, the authors name Stark as being a CIA informant. In
retrospect, do you believe the CIA was involved in putting acid out
on the street to preempt a possible political revolution?

Leary: I don’t know about that. But it’s a matter of fact that most
of the LSD in America in the late 50s and early 60s was brought in
by the CIA and given around to hospitals to find out if these drugs
could be used for brainwashing or for military purposes.

You talked about Nicholas Sand. The whole concept of the Brotherhood
of Eternal Love is like a bogeyman invented by the narcs. The
brotherhood was about eight surfer kids from Southern California,
Laguna Beach, who took the LSD, and they practiced the religion of
the worship of nature, and they’d go into the mountains. But they
were not bigshots at all. None of them ever drove anything better
than a VW bus. They were just kind of in it for the spiritual
thrill.
Nick Sand was a very skillful chemist. He made LSD that the
Brotherhood used. He was a very talented chemist.

The guy Stark. I was accused of heading this ring. I never met
Stark. Never knew he existed. I heard he’s a European money
launderer. But that was not relevant to what was going on out here.
What is relevant to your question is … yes, the CIA did distribute
LSD. As a matter of fact, the DEA (the Drug Enforcement Agency) is
out there right now setting up phony busts, setting up people,
selling dope. And it’s well known that during the Reagan
administration Ollie North was shipping up tons of cocaine to buy
money to give to the Contras and the Iranians.

The CIA has always used drugs very cynically. They run opium poppy
plantations in the golden triangle of Thailand and Burma because it
helps the anti-communist group there. The CIA doesn’t care about
drugs, they’re just interested in playing their game of power and
control, and in the old days, anti-communist provocation.

http://www.serendipity.li/dmt/nsand/leary.htm

http://www.ocweekly.com/features/features/lords-of-acid/18743/

http://www.serendipity.li/dmt/nsand/index.html

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to On The Road to The Brotherhood

  1. Reblogged this on rosamondpress and commented:

    Most of my life I struggled against the fiction writers, the illusion makers.

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