Getting high at Disneyland is, as everyone knows, a delightfully surreal experience, but getting high at Disneyland and making a children’s book out of your adventure will immortalize that weirdness forever. That’s what I did after my wife, Tania, ate some pot candy, and we rode the Mad Tea Cups, one of the original and most simple rides at the park, yet for me it wins the award for “Most Psychedelic.”
Tania was giggling before we even boarded a teacup. Once the ride began, she fell into hysterics. I took pictures of the whole thing. A few days later, using an online publishing service (I used Blurb.com, but there are dozens to choose from), I laid out the pictures, wrote a silly story (complete with ridiculous, discursive footnotes), and had one copy printed (approximately $40).
The small, hardcover book was a great surprise to Tania. She loves it, and it always puts a smile on the face of anyone who visits and happens to pick it up. It’s instances like this where print beats digital every time. So get high, make a stupid book about it, and immortalize your weird. And maybe go to Disneyland, too.
1. As Dasein, I ineluctably find myself in a world that matters to me in some way or another. This is what Heidegger calls thrownness (Geworfenheit), a having-been-thrown into the world. According to Heidegger’s analysis, I am always in some mood or other. Thus, when I say I’m depressed, the world opens up and is disclosed to me as a somber and gloomy place. I might be able to shift myself out of that mood, but only to enter a different one, say euphoria or lethargy, a mood that will open up the world to me in a different way. As one might expect, Heidegger argues that moods are not inner subjective colorings laid over an objectively given world. For Heidegger, moods (and disposedness) are aspects of what it means to be in a world at all, not subjective additions to that in-ness. Here it is worth noting that some aspects of our ordinary linguistic usage reflect this anti-subjectivist reading. Thus we talk of being in a mood rather than a mood being in us, and we have no problem making sense of the idea of public moods (e.g., the mood of a crowd). In noting these features of moods we must be careful, however. It would be a mistake to conclude from them that moods are external, rather than internal, states. A mood “comes neither from ‘outside’ nor from ‘inside’, but arises out of Being-in-the-world, as a way of such being” (Being and Time 29: 176). Nevertheless, the idea that moods have a social character does point us towards a striking implication of Heidegger’s overall framework: with Being-in-the-world identified previously as a kind of cultural co-embeddedness, it follows that the repertoire of world-disclosing moods in which I might find myself will itself be culturally conditioned.—Stanford Encyclopedia Of Philosophy
2. The Matterhorn was one of the last of the main Alpine mountains to be ascended, not because of its technical difficulty, but because of the fear it inspired in early mountaineers. The first serious attempts began around 1857, mostly from the Italian side; but despite appearances, the southern routes are harder, and parties repeatedly found themselves having to turn back. However, on July 14, 1865, in what is considered the last ascent of the golden age of alpinism, the English party of Edward Whymper, Charles Hudson, Lord Francis Douglas, Douglas Robert Hadow, Michel Croz and the two Peter Taugwalders (father and son) were able to reach the summit by an ascent of the Hörnli ridge in Switzerland. Upon descent, Hadow, Croz, Hudson and Douglas fell to their deaths on the Matterhorn Glacier, and all but Douglas (whose body was never found) are buried in the Zermatt churchyard. Whymper later described the deaths as follows:
Michael Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give Mr. Hadow greater security was absolutely taking hold of his legs and putting his feet, one by one, into their proper positions. As far as I know, no one was actually descending. I cannot speak with certainty, because the two leading men were partially hidden from my sight by an intervening mass of rock, but it is my belief, from the movements of their shoulders, that Croz, having done as I have said, was in the act of turning round to go down a step or two himself; at the moment Mr. Hadow slipt, fell against him and knocked him over. I heard one startled exclamation from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downward; in another moment Hudson was dragged from his steps, and Lord Francis Douglas immediately after him. All this was the work of a moment. Immediately we heard Croz’s exclamation, old Peter and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks would permit; the rope was taut between us, and the jerk came on us both as one man. We held, but the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and Lord Francis Douglas. For a few seconds we saw our unfortunate companions sliding downward on their backs, and spreading out their hands, endeavoring to save themselves. They passed from our sight uninjured, disappeared one by one, and fell from precipice to precipice on to the Matterhorngletscher below, a distance of nearly four thousand feet in height. From the moment the rope broke it was impossible to help them. So perished our comrades! For the space of half an hour we remained on the spot without moving a single step.
Two years after Lord Francis Douglas’s death, his brother the Marquess of Queensberry achieved fame as the man who gave his name to the Marquess of Queensberry rules of boxing. Forty years on, as the father of Lord Alfred Douglas, he became the man who brought down Oscar Wilde. Their sister, Lady Florence Dixie, also came to public attention, as a traveller, war correspondent, writer and feminist. Their brother Lord James Douglas suffered for many years from depression and alcoholism, and in 1891 he killed himself by cutting his throat.
Alfred’s father, the Marquess of Queensberry, quickly suspected the liaison [with Wilde] to be more than a friendship. He sent his son a letter, attacking him for leaving Oxford without a degree and failing to take up a proper career, such as a civil servant or lawyer. He threatened to “disown [Alfred] and stop all money supplies.” Alfred responded with a telegram stating: “What a funny little man you are.”
Queensberry was infuriated by this attitude. In his next letter he threatened his son with a “thrashing” and accused him of being “crazy.” He also threatened to “make a public scandal in a way you little dream of” if he continued his relationship with Wilde.
Queensberry was well known for his temper and threatening to beat people with a horsewhip. Alfred sent his father a postcard stating “I detest you” and making it clear that he would take Wilde’s side in a fight between him and the Marquess, “with a loaded revolver.”
In answer Queensberry wrote to Alfred (whom he addressed as “You miserable creature”) that he had divorced Alfred’s mother in order not to “run the risk of bringing more creatures into the world like yourself” and that, when Alfred was a baby, “I cried over you the bitterest tears a man ever shed, that I had brought such a creature into the world, and unwittingly committed such a crime… You must be demented.”
When Douglas’s eldest brother, Lord Drumlanrig, heir to the marquessate of Queensberry, died in a suspicious hunting accident in October 1894, rumours circulated that Drumlanrig had been having a homosexual relationship with the Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery. The elder Queensberry thus embarked on a campaign to save his other son, and began a public persecution of Wilde. Publicly, Wilde had been flamboyant, and his actions made the public suspicious even before the trial. He and a minder confronted the playwright in his own home; later, Queensberry planned to throw rotten vegetables at Wilde during the premiere of The Importance of Being Earnest, but, forewarned of this, the playwright was able to deny him access to the theatre.
Queensberry then publicly insulted Wilde by leaving, at the latter’s club, a visiting card on which he had written: “For Oscar Wilde posing as a somdomite”—a misspelling of sodomite. The wording is in dispute—the handwriting is unclear—although Hyde reports it as this. According to Merlin Holland, Wilde’s grandson, it is more likely “Posing somdomite,” while Queensberry himself claimed it to be “Posing as somdomite.” Holland suggests that this wording (“posing [as] …”) would have been easier to defend in court.
3. The Tea Party here referenced is the one featured in Alice In Wonderland:
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and the talking over its head. “Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,” thought Alice, “only, as it’s asleep, I suppose it doesn’t mind.”
The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw Alice coming. “There’s PLENTY of room!” said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
“Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. “I don’t see any wine,” she remarked.
“There isn’t any,” said the March Hare.
“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” said Alice angrily.
“It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,” said the March Hare.
“I didn’t know it was YOUR table,” said Alice, “it’s laid for a great many more than three.”
That Tea Party, not the one that’s comprised of a gaggle of right wing, conservative, Christian nutjobs.
4. Cannabis foods, including hash brownies, space cakes, and magic cakes, are food products made with cannabis in herbal or resin form. They are consumed as an alternate delivery means to experience the effects of cannabinoids without smoking or vaporizing cannabis or hashish. Instead, the cannabinoids are put into cake, cookie, brownie, or other foods, and are consumed for recreational or medicinal purposes. There has been some dispute as to whether Princess Tania was referring to cannabis-laced treats when she talks of magic cake.
5. Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride is a dark ride at Disneyland. It is one of the few remaining attractions that was operational on the park’s opening day in 1955. The ride’s story is based on Disney’s adaptation of “The Wind in the Willows” (1908), one of the two segments of the film The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949). The sign above the entrance to the ride reads “Toadi Acceleratio, Semper Absurda.” The Melvins have a song influenced by the ride, titled “Toadi Acceleration.” The Melvins are one of Princess Tania’s favorite bands.
6. Jackass star Chris Pontius once prank called Little Caesars and ordered some crazy bread. “But hold the bread,” he said, “and just gimme THE CRAAAAZY!”
Out on the streets, that’s where we’ll meet
You make the night, I always cross the line
Tightened our belts, abused ourselves
Get in our way, we’ll put you on your shelf
Another day, some other way
We’re gonna go, but then we’ll see you again
I’ve had enough, we’ve had enough
Cold in vain, she said
I knew right from the beginning
That you would end up winning
I knew right from the start
You’d put an arrow through my heart
Round and round
With love we’ll find a way, just give it time
Round and round
What comes around goes around
I’ll tell you why
—“Round And Round,” Ratt
8. The spins (as in having “the spins”) is an adverse reaction of intoxication that causes a state of vertigo and nausea, causing one to feel as if he or she is “spinning out of control.” It is most commonly associated with drunkenness or mixing alcohol with other psychoactive drugs such as cannabis. This state is likely to cause vomiting, but having the spins is not life threatening unless pulmonary aspiration occurs. The most common general symptom of having the spins is described by its name: The feeling that one has the uncontrollable sense of spinning, although he or she is not in motion, which is one of the main reasons an intoxicated person may vomit. The person has this feeling due to impairments in vision and equilibrioception. Diplopia (double vision) or polyplopia are common, as well as the symptoms of motion sickness and vertigo.
9. Human tolerances depend on the magnitude of the g-force, the length of time it is applied, the direction it acts, the location of application, and the posture of the body. The human body is flexible and deformable, particularly the softer tissues. A hard slap on the face may briefly impose hundreds of g locally but not produce any real damage; a constant 16 g for a minute, however, may be deadly. When vibration is experienced, relatively low peak g levels can be severely damaging if they are at the resonance frequency of organs and connective tissues. To some degree, g-tolerance can be trainable, and there is also considerable variation in innate ability between individuals.