Here’s an entertaining interview (in the “old hippies never die, they just keep reminding us why they still shouldn’t be given political power” sense) with Grace Slick, the former Jefferson Airplane singer, in which she talks about the time she tried to slip acid to Richard Nixon:

Q. Okay, tell me about trying to slip Richard Nixon acid at the White House.

A. See, Trish Nixon’s daughter went to Finch College, and it was so small that she invited all of the alumni to a tea at the White House. But my name when I went there was Grace Wing, that doesn’t mean anything right? Now, Grace Slick meant something. So I get an invitation to the White House and I call up Abbie Hoffman and say [Sing-songy] “Guess what I have….I’ve got an invitation to the White House.”

So I put 600 mics of acid under a long fingernail I had for cocaine, and we go and we’re standing in line, and the security guard comes up to me and says, “I’m sorry you can’t go in. You’re a security risk.” And I go, “What?!” And he says, “You’re on the FBI list.”

You have to admit, this would have added some spice to Nixon’s speeches.

“And so, effective at noon today, I will… ride to nirvana on the wings of a rainbow, where Checkers and I will square dance with Lilliputians, bathe in liquid marshmallows and listen to the dormouse read poetry to the white rabbits and smoking caterpillars while Bebe Rebozo turns cartwheels under a big-top made of cheese. Go ask Pat, when she’s ten feet tall. Feed your head, my fellow Americans. Feed your head.”

Read the rest of the interview to find out why Slick thinks that we should run our society like racoons. How having a bunch of people dead by the side of the highway is going to help anything is beyond me.


“My knuckles… they’re alive… the big one looks like Liddy’s head in the garden of Eden…”


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