God, give me the Sublime…

Early man walked away
As modern man took control
Their mind’s weren’t all the same
and To conquer was their goal
So he built his great empire
And he slaughtered his own kind
He died a confused man
Killed himself with his own mind
Were only gonna die from our own arrogance
That’s why we might as well take our time.

Sublime – We’re gonna die for our own arrogance.

Cannot complain about that. There is a Bruce K. Alexander book or two summed up in three minutes. Brilliant. Why do I bother thinking? I should just re-listen to all my old favourite songs. It is all there already.

At least all the complaints are.

The answers are a little more out of reach.


Old War Stories

Listening to some old Sublime brings back some memories all right… I feel another old war story coming on.

Driving a little Subaru two door 4WD with a trailer load of two thousand cannabis seedlings… Two hundred KM journey to the cannabis fields. Finding the cover had blown off and all the campervan people for the last hundred KM or so would have been looking straight in at all my hard work.

We were dodgy. Well, I was dodgy. The others thought they were dodgy. The didn’t know what dodgy was until we needed potting mix, fencing and plant supplies. You need fences around cannabis in New Zealand. We have possums everywhere. The little fuckers ruin your crops. And then the hedgehogs get into it. Even our native birds have been known to walk rather than fly. When you see them around the cannabis plants, you will see why. Humans smoke ounces of weed to get high. Our birds eat it to get low. I reckon anyway. Stuff them.

But what is worse than those? NZ PIGS! I mean, real pigs. Like four legs.

And even worse than them? Two legged farmers and pigs in helicopters.

This Sublime CD was the soundtrack of that summer. I had every bit of the backyard, including the old broken down cars planted out with cannabis seedlings. Years of collecting the best seeds led to about six months of growing a bloody huge amount of the best cannabis. When the plants were only three inches tall they had to start to be moved. They were all in seed raising trays, and all were in the back yard. The area was frosty at night, so had to move them all into specially constructed indoor areas in the basement. It was a job I tell you. A real life honest to god job.

Part of the job was to get five hundred seed raising root trainers. Four plants per system. Another part was to find about 30 large sacks of seed raising mix (dirt). Another part was working out how much fencing and netting to get (you have to have a roof unless you want animals to eat all your buds….) And then there was the water crystals… You cannot go and water the plantation all the time, so I found about $1000 worth of water crystals worked about right spread over all the patches.

To get this sort of set up we went to the gardening centre. 

At least, I went to the gardening centre. One guy stayed in the van. We cleaned the whole van out and got a car trailer. When we left the garden centre I had to sit in the middle of the two other guys up front. The van and the trailer were loaded beyond capacity. We did this trip twice. The third time the garden centre had run out of fencing, netting and our pick of the nicest shrubs.

Not many garden centres are open at 3am, so was pretty good luck that no local pigs of two legged variety could be bothered waking up at that hour.

Needless to say, we got a genuine bulk supply discount on our extremely large purchase.

I don’t think the other two guys had experienced anything like it. They were a bit jumpy and panicky and edgy. They learnt. A little too well. They became dodgy fuckers in their own right shortly thereafter. When growing large amounts of cannabis it pays not to be dealing with tweedle dum and tweedle dee.

Idiots. Both of them. One guy still probably watches Italian gangster movies to practise his bad ass looks and threatening words before leaving the house each night. What a clown. 

The other guy married a Japanese lady. Who has probably divorced him once she got NZ residency. Can’t see any other reason for it. Sure wasn’t his ability to keep his mouth shut.

So, after a few months of growing these two clowns had a falling out over some lovely young lass or another and the writing was on the wall. They started visiting our patches without everyone else. And then stuff started going missing. They blamed eachother. I blame them both too.

We find ourselves a nice pilot girl whom had just got herself a solo license.

Actually, she was my friends missus. He went psycho and turned into a real bitch during filming of The Last Samurai a few years later when me and her drove 300km and “spent a weekend” together according to him. I drove, she got on a plane, flew to her sisters 21st piss up and flew back. I drove back and we got back in time for her film work at 6am Monday. No time for wanking, never mind actual real sex. Idiot. Tweedle fucken dumb.

Uhm, shit. Old stories aren’t really my thing. I need editing.

Actually, court documents aren’t my thing either. I need editing.

We go flying over the Southern Alps of New Zealand to check out how all our plants look from the air. When I say “fly over” the alps, I mean “fly through” the alps. There is no way a little plane like we hired could climb over the mountain ranges. We had to follow the roads through the mountain passes.

We spot the area and fly low. We do spins, turns and …. “Oh shit. I can see the patches plain as bro.”

Where abouts NZFiend? 

Over there… [points down and keeps pointing at patch as plane goes flying past at 200km/h] 

Oh shit.

Yeah. Dude, they stand out like a sore knob on a pit bull.

Uhm, yeah. Guess we should have expected that.

Yeah, fuck it. You would have thought that felling those old native tree’s would have looked natural. 

Yeah, it does. It’s just the green colour is… Well….

Yeah dude. We have some work to do….

I had knocked over a couple of very large native trees (without the proper consents from local government, of course) and camouflaged the cut marks to the extent they looked rotten and had maybe fallen over naturally. The tree’s let sun light into the grow area, but also acted as a nice support for the netting required to keep all the animals away. This patch was just too fucking big. Even though I had argued and managed to leave natural ferns and shrubs in the patch, the cannabis had now grown taller and… Stood out like a sore knob on a horny pit bull.

We started flying back after checking the other patches. We had work to do, for sure. We were talking about this quite enthusiastically when I say “Hey, pilot chick… Where the fuck are we?”


I don’t know how else to say this, but WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE?

Yeah, where the fuck are we?

I don’t know, I am just flying south…

You fucken what?

I am just flying south…

Yeah, I get that. But fucken what?

You mean to tell us, as paying passengers on this hunk of shit that we purchased for the afternoon, that you, as pilot of said hunk of shit, do not know where we are?
(okay, so his real words were not these exactly. They were more like “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck”… I am paraphrasing a little to show the true intent of tweedle dums words.)


HOLY FUCK. Look at the fucken dash board.



A compass.

How about looking at the fucken compass once in a fucken while?! Fuck fuck fuck

Hey guys….
(they were now arguing quite heatedly. This was not what I had in mind for a mile high threesum. Happy endings good. Death, not so…)


Shit, sorry… What?

Look out the window.


We were fast approaching the end of the road basically. We had been flying up a valley, but the valley was… Well, running out. It was a dead end.

I reckon that to get back to __________ we need to get over that ridge there
I say pointing to a ridge

Can we make it over that?

she puts the power down and the nose up
Nope…… We ain’t making it over that…..


Uhm. Hey, pilot chick… 

Yeah NZFiend.

Rather than dying, coz even if we survive hitting that cliff, we are 2000m up the side of a frozen mountain and we only have shorts and t-shirts on…

I have a knitted jumper on my seat….

Anyway… How about you do a fucken u-turn. And make it quick.

Do you reckon we can do a u-turn?

I don’t know, it’s fucken tight.

I vote U-Turn. And now, fuckit.

The pilot chick had the plane turning right already. I don’t know how close we were to the cliff on the way in, but it was close. The wing tips were vertical. The cliff, no shit, filled the whole windscreen. And the whole view out the left was just looking up at cliff with a small patch of blue sky about two million miles away. And the view out the right was… Well… It was rock and ice too.

This was the best fun I had since giving up motorbike riding.


Oh my god NZFiend, you fucken nut.

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh that was fucken choice. Do it again. Can we go do it again?

Tweedle fucken dumb slaps me over the head really hard…. Nervous laughter from everyone.

We got back to ________________ and fell out the sky from twenty foot up. I think pilot chick was so happy to be near a flat asphalt landing pad with real life fire trucks that she just turned off the engine, the fuel and just about had the doors open before our air speed dropped and we stalled out the sky onto the runway. Just about broke the wheels off.

Awesome. Simply the best.

Wish we had cameras back in the late nineties. This trip would have got us going viral YOU TUBE for sure. And not just for our Kiwi accents.

Postscript – The police reported finding 1200 cannabis plants in the area in their annual “war on drugs” report. So, they found two thirds of mine and no one elses? Yeah, right. Lying pigs. The next year the police flew into the side of a mountain killing all on board. The spotter police guy was originally from Wellington C.I.B. He once tried to plant drugs during a search of a flat called “The Hilton”. It really was not a Hilton.

Guess the drugs won that battle in the end.

To win the war the police need a better pilot. And the luck of the devil.

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