In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE],

Mushrooms. You wouldn’t think you could build an empire with those tiny bits of fungus, but you’d be wrong. Apparently, mushrooms can make you rich. And they did make The Hookah Dude rich. Rich beyond your wildest dreams. My dreams are actually much wilder, but I think it’s safe to say that The Hookah Dude was stupidly rich.

How? Mushroom futures. Yep. Apparently betting a lot of moola on what people will pay for shrooms in the future, and then paying less for them now, will make you a lot of money.

Or something like that. I really don’t get how it works. I think it’s all like going to Vegas, but what do I know.

Anyway, The Hookah Dude makes a killing on shrooms. He doubles down and makes even more money, and he does it again and makes an even more amazing amount of 💰.

Swimming pools, movie stars, the whole shebang.

Then it all went terribly wrong. I don’t know why we write “Then it all went terribly wrong”, in stories like this. I mean, if the story was, “And now The Hookah Dude is richer than ever and really happy” that would be a terrible story.

Groovy

So I suggest we save some letters and abbreviate to “TIAWTW” from now on. It’s good for the environment.

TIAWTW. The Hookah Dude quadruples down on the forest fungus and overnight, people decide they aren’t interested in shrooms anymore. Not in salads, not on pizza, not on a plane, not on a train… you couldn’t get one Sam I Am to care about, let alone buy, a mushroom.

Disaster ensues. H.D. can’t pay the mansion mortgage, Mrs. Hookah Dude takes off with all the little Hookah Dudes, and all he’s left with is one mushroom, a hookah pipe, the old stereo he had in college (with those really gigantic speakers that weight a ton), and his vintage vinyl collection (which is pretty cool).

You know the rest. He loads the pipe up with “not tobacco”, puts on his broken RayBans and cranks up In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (the long version) on his college stereo. Someone also left him an old lava lamp, which is kinda perfect and pretty cool.

He’s been like that for as long as anyone can remember.

“Who are you?” No I’m not asking who you are. Hookah Dude keeps saying “Who are you? Why? Cause he’s completely blitzed and doesn’t remember from one minute to another who you are.

You just start making up other names after a while to amuse yourself.

Don’t like to read? No problem. Click the video and hear Victoria read to you.

The moral of this story? It’s either “Don’t bet on fungus”, or “Get rid of those ancient, heavy college stereo speakers (but not the turntable), cuz who wants to carry that crap around. Not your friends. No matter how much pizza you offer them.”

Dude, are those my speakers, and what’s in it for me?

This better be some good pizza and not that Dominos crap.

Bottomline it for me

  • TIAWTW. Use it. It’s good for the planet.
  • Mrs. Hookah Dude is suing for the turntable.
  • In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. The long version or nothing.
  • Hookah pipe? Not tobacco.
  • Who am I? Uh, Jeff, no Clark. Name’s Jeff Clark.

That’s it. I’m not gonna get all mushy.

See ya’ ~ Kevin

p.s. The website is playing a very special anniversary remix of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. The socials want you to carry their speakers.

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