Somewhere, Maine - In a surprising reversal outlaw country music legend / marijuana farmer Johnny Crashed has withdrawn from the Trump Inauguration Ceremony where he was scheduled to play his classic "Everybody Wants to Be King" right before the swearing in of President Elect Trump.
Below is the full text of the open letter Crashed posted to his Facebook page.
To all my fans:
As many of you know I was invited and initially accepted an invitation to play at the upcoming inauguration of President Elect Trump. The truth is that Mr. Trump and I go back a long way. Back in the late seventies I was living in the Lower East Side of NYC and met the Donald (or the Douche as we called him behind his back) through mutual call girls we frequented. From 1979- 1981 I believe I was his principle cocaine dealer. We may have even done some gay shit in a hot tub with Rick James once. He had money. I had drugs. It was a match made for the times.
Still I was surprised to get the invitation seeing as I haven't spoken to him in thirty years and the only thing we have in common nowadays is the desire to bang his daughter. Plus I had left that scene and started my journey towards cannabis while he continued paying hookers to snort coke off his dick. To each their own I always say. But when the invitation arrived I felt a wave of nostalgia come over me and I rationalized my performing as perhaps just the thing he needed to realize that he was a huge pile of dog shit and perhaps change his ways.
But as it came down to the wire and everyone but the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the Rockette's and Toby *#%$& Keith had withdrawn I did some hard thinking. Frankly I was ok with sharing a stage with the choir and the dancing girls but no f---ing way am I opening for that flag waving, crappy song writing, fake cowboy, moron, Toby Keith. I would rather spend a night having sex with Hillary Clinton while her husband jerked off at the side of the bed.
So to all my friends and fans, my apologies. I was temporarily blinded by the possibilities of getting a career bounce out of this gig. I'm still sitting on 400 of the 500 CD's I ordered of my last CD. I could really have used the help paying for my antibiotics.
A Trump campaign spokesperson denied that Mr. Trump had any kind of gay sex with Mr. Crashed as he was always too busy "grabbing 'da pussy".
Long ago in a previous life I was deeply involved in the political world. Always holding onto a thread of hope that my participation in the electoral process would matter. But it didn't. And my heart was broken by one candidate after another always showing themselves to be either disconnected from the unbalanced reality that our country exists within or too much a prisoner of their own inflated ego and self importance to inspire me long term.
When recently asked by a reporter from MSNBC about whom I would be voting for in this upcoming election I admitted that I had not participated in politics for a long time and I would likely be writing in my German Shepard, Sam, for president. If I bothered voting at all.
Now to be fair to Sam, he did not ask to be put in this position. He's quite content with the job he currently holds, which is head of security here at Open Sky Farm, protecting not only my pot plants but also my adopted girls. (I'll call them Baby G. and Johnny Jr. as they are not quite ready for the spotlight) But the truth is that in terms of honesty, loyalty, integrity, general demeanor, and fur, he is far and away the best person I know and I think he would absolutely "Make America Great Again!". (Btw...when was this?...was it when we occupied this country and slaughtered most of its original inhabitants?...was it when we shipped human beings into this country from Africa and made them slaves?..was it when we began an industrial revolution that now threatens to end life as we know it on the planet?..was it when we killed 4-6 million Vietnamese in a "conflict".. was it Mathew Shepard? George Jackson? Richard Nixon? Columbine? That slogan always leaves me wondering.
Now I don't want to tell anyone who to vote for (or for that matter, whether to bother voting). This kind of a decision is entirely your own and can only be determined by doing a gut check on how you view the world. Do you validate a system that offers only a choice between Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton (or as I like to say "between a cock and a cunt"). Or do you simply refuse to engage and take your limited energy for resistance to a different playing field?
With all this in mind, I thought I would send out a video link for a tune that never goes out of fashion..."Everybody Wants to be King"..by yours truly.....
Enjoy (and please note that Sam is refusing corporate contributions to his campaign but happily accepts donations of both raw meat and tree stumps.)
Once upon a time in a land called Somewhere, Maine there lived a little girl named Rayn. In many ways Rayn was just like other girls. She held tea parties with her dolls and dogs. She was fascinated by glitter and nail polish. And by all of her own accounts she was a princess.
And as a princess she passed through the early part of her life with cameras snapping, pink dresses, and the endless admiration of her adoring public.
She spent her days in this beautiful kingdom, where she had been brought as a baby by two doves named Sampson and Delilah, cooing and dancing, in the most loveliest of ways. But still she felt lonely and wished for a friend who did not have fur or feathers.
One day a strange creature named Hoop Girrrl appeared with magical and colorful circles that would endlessly float around her waist. She was also very nice to Rayn, cooked great food, and danced almost as good as Rayn did. But she confessed to Rayn that she was also very juggley and was always dropping things! She said that only the magic kiss of a handsome farmer could help her.
As time passed the girls friendship grew and Hoop Girrl taught Rayn how to make pancakes, needle felt, and of course make hula hoops. In return Rayn showed Hoop Girrl all her best dance moves and how to talk to animals.
One afternoon as they lay out in the sun listening to “This American Life with Ira Glass”, Hoop Girll asked where Rayn had gotten her beautiful hair. That is when Rayn decided to tell her about her good friend Johnny Crashed who was a wandering musician/farmer playing only the finest of outlaw country music while growing medicine. It was from him that she had stolen her beautiful locks of hair after he came home from the infamous Lazzlo compound with bleary eyes and needing a nap.
Rayn then told Hoop Girrl that only the magical smooches of Johnny could make her less juggley and Rayn asked Hoop Girrl if she would like to meet him. Hoop Girrl was a little flustered as she had never met a real live outlaw country musician but decided to take a chance and said yes, she would like to meet this man even though Rayn said that he was grumpy and had not smiled in years.
So one day early in the morning, Rayn and Hoop Girll danced down to the magical pond that Johnny would swim in. There they spotted Johnny doing laps, while his friend Sam played with the log stumps on the shoreline. They snuck up and stole Johnny’s clothes that lay on the shore and left a note with a clue.
When Johnny emerged from the pond he could not find his clothes anywhere but saw the piece of paper with the clue and he read it outloud to himself, it said
“For those who seek a place to grow
In a sweet smelling garden (or six feet of snow)
Here is the home for you and your pooch
Find us today and we will give you a smooch”
Johnny thought for a minute and then he knew what he had to do. He picked up his guitar, turned and walked up the trail to the distant farmhouse on the hill, followed by Sam, his German Shepard. When they got to the house they looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Inside was Hoop Girrrl and Rayn waiting for them with smiles and laughter and open arms to greet them. Johnny smiled for the first time in years.
The long awaited CD by Johnny Crashed "The Trial of Johnny Crashed" is now available in recycled CD bins everywhere along with all his other CD's and the home made porn that failed even in the Asian market. The new CD features colorful artwork of an outhouse on his farm, court documentation from a few of his legal battles, and a couple of photo's that are included to make him seem more interesting then he really is.
The CD is the culmination of two years of work at a few studio's in Maine one located in a cold, musty garage in Central Maine, and the other a Christian compound that always smelled like like a grow room. The studio musicians who contributed their talents to the project include at least three that Johnny no longer talks to.
So far the CD has created no buzz whatsoever with the exception of an angry phone call from his ex as well as numerous threatening letters from a number of lawyers representing some asshole who feels slighted.
"I'm pleased that the CD is now available to be trashed by all my haters", said Mr. Crashed in an email. "I'm also proud that I didn't take my own life during the three years it took to complete the damn thing. It always seemed like a possibility."
If you would like to enjoy the music of Johnny Crashed, please send $15 to: Cow Pasture Productions, PO Box 122, Sumner, Maine 04292.
I. There comes a time when the pathways of this wicked world collide with the burden of truth each of us carries in our heart. There is a point where we must stare upon these truths no matter how ugly and confront what we have wrought. For there is no question that we have all fallen short. And as we have lined our pockets with the riches that Babylon offers we have also fallen into despair. Trading all that is sacred for the opportunity to now vainly stare at ourselves in the glare that surrounds us.
II. So will the love of a partner now be replaced by the love of a plant? Will the warm embrace of your children be forsaken for the lumens of a 1000 watt grow light? Will you sacrifice friendships while gaining security? Will you destroy your family for the promise of whatever lies behind the curtain? Will you now commodify the healing power of this medicine in order to line your pockets? Place expectations upon it so heavy that it collapses under its own weight? Ask this plant to carry you rather then simply support you? Or add it to the vast list of icons and idols that you worship so blindly that your devotion turns into delusion.
III. Now as judgment day awaits us all, who do we throw our lot in with? Is it devil or deity? And when we fall down on our knees do we give it all or just pretend to see the lines between truth and iniquity? For we must always remember that the devil comes in many disguises and goes by many names. Luring us with convention. Tempting us with riches and false glory. Leading us down a path of self deception that blinds us to the trail of tears we have now left in our wake.
PEOPLE Magazine named country music legend Johnny Crashed as its 2016 "Sexiest Man Alive" in this week's issue, besting perennial favorites Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, in the annual popularity contest.
PEOPLE Magazine spokesperson Ima Douche said that "Johnny Crashed is everything that today's woman would want in a man. He has the rugged charm of a young Sean Connery with the smooth approach favored by hipsters like Glen Quagmire and Disco Stu. Plus they say he has some African-American blood on his father's side which means that not only is he packing some heat (take that Donald Trump) but in today's multi-cultural world it's almost a necessity. After all what modern woman wants to sleep with a white guy? Boring..."
There were reports of a severe increase in domestic violence after the issue hit the newsstands as women everywhere where forced to confront the inadequacies of their partners. Many local bands, including the Portland group, the Lazzlo Family have announced a temporary hiatus due to their womenfolk requesting that they dress and act "more like Johnny" if they want to get some.
When asked about the annual designation, Mr. Crashed had this to say. "While I find tabloid journalism to be on par with commercial radio d.j.'s and Portland talent buyers/venue bookers, once in a while they just get it right. As my good friend Muhammed Ali once told me, 'Damn I'm pretty!' Also, carry around cute babies and act like you love doing it. Women are suckers for a father doing his job. Well, actually not all of them."
Johnny Crashed also is said to be the centerfold of the up and coming calendar, "The Men of Open Sky Farm" coming soon to gay bookstore near you.
Somewhere, ME - In a stunning announcement yesterday, legendary outlaw country songwriter Johnny Crashed called for an end to limits on Illegal Space Aliens. Mr. Crashed had been highly critical and vocal of presidential candidates Donald Trump and Ted Cruz anti-immigration platform saying that it did not represent the compassionate spirit that exists in the best parts of our countries heritage. But it was still a major surprise when he released this statement.
"I grew up listening to the songs of Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, Pete Seeger, Jean Ritchie, Sweet Honey in the Rock, and Billy fucking Bragg. And in their songs you will always find men like Donald Trump and Ted Cruz. Men who had money and power and privilege. And used it for all the wrong purposes and in pursuit of all the wrong things. And these musicians I listened to made it their lives to make sure that generations to come remember the follies of these jackasses and their darkness. In this spirit I want to add my two cents into the current political debate with my new video, SPACE ALIENS UNITE!
Now to be fair I have had my share of negative interactions with Space Aliens over the years. Many of you know that my marijuana field was wiped clean by an alien space ship only two years ago. What I had hoped was going to be the start of a new intergalactic business arrangement quickly turned into nothing more then a cosmic stick up. I lost thirty pounds of MOB to some punk space alien who probably used it to fuel his ship. But I'm not bitter and I'm not going to let one bad encounter put me in judgment of an entire universe. It would be like judging all of Naboo based on the behavior of Jar Jar Binks"
The statement also included a list of demands including: an end to quotas on women under 21 from the countries of Venezuela and Brazil, mandatory girl on girl action at public school assemblies, and the immediate slaughter of all commercial radio d.j.'s.
ENJOY THE VIDEO and remember as Johnny Crashed says, "It's all just a matter of perspective isn't it?"
Somewhere, Maine - At a hastily called press conference outside the Buckfield Mall, local marijuana farmer Johnny Crashed endorsed Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders for President. The outlaw country musician was at the mall picking up a breakfast sandwich for his German Shepard/best friend Sam and a Pepsi for himself when he was approached by a reporter about a rumored arrest warrant for outstanding child support.
Quickly turning the subject matter over to politics Johnny Crashed reminisced about his thirty year friendship with Senator Sanders. "I was going to school in a town right next to Burlington...but since the drinking age was eighteen at the time I spent most of my time drunk and puking at the bars downtown….even with the $.25 drafts and $1 well drinks i was quickly broke and needing money to sustain my drinking habit...my friend Hector (a mushroom dealer who lived down the hall in my dorm) suggested I start dealing weed. Pretty soon I was being invited into the inner circle of the Burlington elite….I remember one time being at a party with Trey (Anastasio from the band Phish) and dosing him with some family acid. While he was spinning I fed him a bullshit tale of an Indian blood feud involving a chimpanzee and a weasel named Fee. He sure made some money off of that one…"
Crashed continued…"Anyways Ben and Jerry also became good friends of mine….and they would often use my customers as a testing ground for potential new ice cream flavors….i'd be doing lines off the boobs of some local hippie chick and they would sit there and watch me while screaming 'you gotta meet Bernie, you gotta meet Bernie'...They knew we both shared a strong hatred for corporate America and it turns out that Bernie was also looking for a new weed dealer...Over the next 3-4 years we would usually get together once a week or so to talk politics and puff…He wasn't making much money as Mayor of Burlington so I would usually end up fronting him a dime bag...But every week he was back to cover the front. No excuses.
Here's the thing…I got (at least) two daughters…I don't want them growing up in a world reeking of imbalance and brutality…and my good friend Bernie Sanders can play a vital role in bringing corporate resistance to the world stage…so i have decided that not only will i be co-headlining (with Willie Nelson and Snoop Dog) on what is being called the Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die/Feel the Bern tour but I am donating all of my remaining outdoor harvest (from last fall) to the campaign to help keep both the candidate and his volunteers fully medicated as we move towards victory in New Hampshire and Iowa."
A Sanders campaign spokesperson declined to comment for this story but did confirm that she had also heard rumors that Ben and Jerry were sexual deviants.
Somewhere, Maine - Local marijuana growers were visibly upset at their weekly marijuana fueled orgy held at Openly High Farm in the hills of western Maine, after the comments of Gov. Paul LePage were brought to the groups attention.
Johnny Crashed, owner of the farm, and a longtime drug dealer/musician, had this too say, "I take it as a personal insult from LePage that he would subtly imply that it is black drug dealers doing the knocking up of white women here in Maine. I'm a proud Irishman and I came up here ten years ago from the big city to sell drugs. In that time I have successfully impregnated not one, but TWO, white women in this states borders. Each one has given me a fine daughter. And if I can add a second wife like I'm planning, I'm going for a son next year. Where's the shout out to me and my kind?"
Morningstar, a local hippie hill cat participating in the orgy, commented, "Listen Mr. LePage, if you had to limit your sexual exploration to white guys stinking of pachouli, you would be out banging the brothers as well. At least they got jobs and don't act like such bitches!"
"It just really hurts to hear these things. What's a white drug dealer gotta do to get the same respect as my African-American peers. I mean I'm no Rasta, but I'm doing my part." Johnny Crashed added as he climbed back into his hot tub.
Local music fans met the release of a new video, "Love is Such a Heavy Burden" from the Johnny Crashed CD "God, Guns, and Ganja" with a large yawn today as they had already spent 6-8 hours watching their news feed on Facebook and were simply too tired to care.
That being said, here is the URL