Last Friday the Defecating dropped ass again. This time, however, it was not on the forehead of a young, peaceful girl. I was lucky enough to be present at Allgood Music Festival in Masontown, WV when the feces fiend defied all odds and escaped containment to strike again.

I will share my point of view.

Maybe 10 yards from my campsite, there were 5 or so painted pieces of plywood laying on the ground thursday night. When I woke up Thursday morning, the pieces of plywood had been carefully assembled into an octagon like structure that withheld something extremely powerful within.

This is what the structure looked like from my chair:

I first heard the shrieks when a couple walked by and completely freaked out over what was laying in the box.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, HONEY- LOOK AT THIS”

The girlfriend slowly walked over, looked like she was trying to hold some puke in, and said ” Come on Stan- Let’s just go”

“NO- THAT IS FUCKED UP”

This is when “Stan” looked straight up at me like I was the culprit and said “Fucking Gross Man- Unbelievable”

This really made me wonder what could possibly be inside the box.

To make a long story short, and to save a thirty minute period of other people reactions that were strolling by, I walked up to the box and took a look inside.

This is what I found:

From the words of another spectator that walked by and witnessed the aftermath of this scat attacking maniac:

“I mean, someone actually engineered this box and took a perfectly coiled up snake like shit in it”

After a day had passed, a man walked up and actually picked up the shit with his hands and put it in a trash bag.

I AM NOT JOKING ABOUT ANY OF THIS.

As he picked it up, he was uttering angry nothings about a “defecating wook” and what he would do to him if he caught him doing it again. The man then proceeded over to my camping area and asked for hand sanitizer. This is 100% true even though you probably don’t believe it.

Anyway, I hate to say it, but the Defecating wook has NOT been captured, and he is on the loose, the deuce loose.

Please relax folks- The defecating wook was captured laying on his back in the middle of a wook circle in Athens, Georgia while the group surrounding him waxed his chest. We were lucky enough to have someone donate a quick HEADshot.

I started selling meatballs on tour way back when hippies still ate animals.

It all started one heady night on Phish tour back in the nine-nine. Shit was still gangsta on Shakedown. I had ingested some kind of liquid dropping, pill popping, powder chopping platter of excellence when it started raining meatballs. And not those dinky little, rinky little, stinky little swedish meatballs – these were some seriously plump, juicy, meaty balls. The.biggest.ever. They just kept raining down.

Okay, so you know when you’re on Shakedown and you look at those big ass lights generating a halo of flying insects? Imagine meatballs just taking them out! One by one – just plummeting down to their final destination. Planting their epic meatiness in some heady mama’s dreads, or some wook’s beard. Taking out illegitimate lot babies and puppy pits. Dude, brews, it was a mess. A meaty mess. But I wasn’t surprised that the mess wasn’t left untouched – free food is free food.

Right?

Heady.

Jeez man, I think back – that platter must’ve been some seriously super epic excellence! Well. . . with that, I thought it was like some sort of sign. I mean, a visual is one thing, but shit my nose was bleeding like I got hit by a flying meatball torpedo. (Could’ve been bleeding for a number of. . . more realistic reasons actually. . .)

When I came back to a point of reality, I picked myself up off the lot and took a stroll to the nearest port-a-potty, where I locked myself in, sat my ass down and began brainstorming an uber heady business plan.

That plan did bring me luck on the following tour – shit I was slingin’ meatballs up and down Shakedown like no other. Like it was my job, yo! You’d walk through like… “Mali”, “Doses”, “Clean needles”. . . “Meatballs.” I fucking raged that shit brew – One for $3, Two for $5 . . . sometimes, if I was feeling extra heady I’d hook it up Three for FREE! Hell yeah – Cha-Ching to the Karma gods!

And then, October 7, 2000 happened – Hiatus hit us smack in the face. It was a hit that couldn’t be compared to any damn meatball whack. “Let it be” played over the speakers as the foursome walked off the stage, away from us. Man oh man I cried tears the size of meatballs. So unheady.

I kept having these dreams with angry meatballs just harrassing the fuck out of me. Armys of bloody meatballs chanting, “He ate us, He ate us, He ate us, He ate us!” Dude. . . HE ATE US. . . on. . . HIATUS. WTF. FML. I mean they wouldn’t stop until I promised to cut the meat from my balls. I awoke screaming many a night – definitely a sign. No more meatballs, brew.

Hiatus ended bringing in a new year – 2002. The “He-ate-us Hiatus” was a closed case! Now I came back selling. . .Brew Balls – an elevation vacation.

Chaahaa!!

These took all of hiatus time to perfect – a superb dosage of elevating goodness, minus the meat, plus the treat. A creation consisting of uber mindfulness and crunchy goodness.

When you bite into my brew balls – you experience the calm before the storm. . .what happens right before it starts douching meatballs all over your face. It’s that cool windy feeling, a breeze to please. An extra beat of excited anticipation.

Floaty, flimsy, funny, floppy.

The epic sideways walk down Shakedown.

So no longer do you eat your meatballs.

Meet your eatballs!

. . .brew balls!

Beware!!!! There have been numerous reports (in the hundreds) about a unheady, careless, festy-crashing wook that has been defecating on fellow passed out wooks. Although the notorious “Scat Wook” has been sited in action only a few times, many have arrived at the messy scenes just seconds after his alleged footlong steamers were released. These steamers have been described as unusually large, and they are usually released on the head, neck, or chest area. In one extreme case at Loki Music Festival in 07′, a wook awoke to a hot mouthful of not-so-tasty “brownies” after passing out with one boob out during a Toubab Krew show for the ages. This single incident led to the creation and revolution of the most dangerous and rebellious line of wooks walking any given festival- The Angry Wooks. (For more information on angry wooks, visit the WookBook (Coming Soon))

With TrifoxMedia closing it’s doors, hopeless wooks don’t know where to turn for protection from the monster of feces. According the the United Wook Census of 2009, ticket prices and population of festies have continued to drop rapidly. This is due to one thing, and one thing only- FEAR. Some desperate wooks are going to extreme measures and boycotting festies completely until the justice is served.

The WWWD foundation (What-Would-Wooks-Do) have release an emergency statements demanding that all wooks “keep it heady and stay calm” during these times of distress. They suggest larger-than-usual wook drum circles late into the night that will allow wooks to take turns passing out inside the cirlce, while other wooks protect them with an enclosed, furious music session. Its a win-win situation.

Others have suggested that every brew and brewess that enters a festy must be required to eat a minimum of 10 immodium caps to prove their commitment to a waste-free event.

If you have any information that will lead to the arrest of the defecating wook, please contact your local festy security company for a free cookie and copy of “Boys Life Magazine” autographed by Tea Leaf Green.

Over the past 20 years, there hasn’t been much national recognition and accomplishment from us hard working wooks. However, once extra headtacular wook, Boone Riddle, has gone out of his way to revolutionize our society and lifestyle, and for that we celebrate.

Boone, “The Real Deal” Riddle has spent the last several years of his life studying, meditating, and hunting glowsticks all around the States. Throughout this time, his genius and strong self-discipline has taken his intellectual level from that of a petty little frat boy to the King Kong of Wooks. He has conquered what others try so hard to do, but fail- start a successful, REAL, and profiting business (TriFoxMediaLLC). With one touch of his golden “hoMOE” thong and a long life observation from SleepyB himself, any wook is guaranteed a sudden and drastic change in the quality of the live experience.

In addition, TriFoxMediaLLC will be hosting it’s annual glowstick and gem hunt at Red Rocks, Colorado on June 18th. Mr. Riddle will make a quick, but promising appearance (if he can fit it in his work schedule) to sign your glowsticks and gems. The grand prize will be a crystal.

So, wooks- Please contact Mr. Riddle if you feel like your Ora is missing a color.

www.booneriddle.com

Hello fellow wooks and wookettes. This Sunday, mother’s day, is a special day in many different ways! We are holding a charity event where you can not only promote peace and love across your fellow wook friends, but you can donate cookies and rolls to other not so fortunate wookies. Proceeds go directly to the Motherless Wook Foundation (MWF).

There will be a special live performance by Lance Van Berklee from his new album- “She sucks my balls all day”

Wook on.

Hello all you epic uber heady phish phanatics.