Trippin’ Into Psychedelia

The best part about this clip–other than, um, THE DOORS–is the ponce “hosting” it.


From his diary, written shortly after this concert was filmed*:

“I awoke to find myself covered with a slimy substance…When I finally pried my eyelids open, I saw where I was: a dank room with dirt on the floors. There was a ceiling fan undulating like a Moroccan schoolboy…The furniture was ramshackle, however, hanging on the wall was an Andy Warhol original litho of Elvis in a Western stance, holding a gun. Suddenly, I remembered everything. A strange American chap by the name of Mr. Mojo Risin’ sidled up to me at the after-party. He asked me if I wanted something to drink, and I before I could answer, the long-haired stallion grabbed me by the nape of my neck and pressed his lips against me. Instinctively, my mouth opened, like a whale inhaling a shipload full of sea men. Next came a liquid, which splashed against the back of my throat in much the same manner that Pollock created his canvases. It wasn’t vodka or gin or even Blue Nun. No…Mr. Risin’ had slipped me a ‘Jimmy.'”

(*Not really)

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