"CHECK THIS OUT, MR. TIMMY: we get on the horn to the Dalai Lama and offer him enough (it'll only take a pound or two) to turn on all of Tibet's occupying Chinese!" Ron is a trip in his own right . . . LSD is the key to get the Buddhists their holy land back, says he. Everything is back in place with the Brotherhood, with product again coursing through the arteries of LA, the Bay Area, and the rest of the West where it will ultimately reach all the little vessicles from Beverly Hills to Bombay. The sliver of moon over the Pacific is visible for only a minute before dipping away inconsequentially. The vista is riddled with stars. On the porch at the ranch I tell Ron what a decent thing he's done, and how the karma will return to him a thousand fold, by giving so generously and selflessly of the science and surreptitiousness invested in him.
"I hope not," I think I here him breathe telepathically.
