In The Time of Job When Mischa Was A Zippie - January 20th 1973 Part 3

Part 3 - The Coronation (The Saga of the Rat Float)

The Presidential motorcade had safely reached its destination, in spite of our best efforts, and Nixon was now giving his inaugural address on the East Portico of the U.S. Capital Building. Yet the aroma of marijuana smoke still permeated the air, giving evidence to continued Zipster activity.

I, along with a few others, had separated from one protest group and now linked up with another. These rabble-rousers were vociferously shouting slogans while pulling a rather outrageous looking float of the Rat King (which, of course, bore a strikingly comical resemblance to President Nixon). As we paraded through the streets, we were joined by a contingent of the American Indian Movement (AIM), some White Panther remnants, and various assorted stragglers, most of whom had found themselves separated from their original protest organizations. However, the increase in size of our group seemed to trigger a renewed interest from the authorities, and soon the pigs had descended upon us with increased militaristic fervor.

The cops began launching attack upon attack, their apparent goal being the capture of our Rat King float. Diligent efforts on our part to keep it free from apprehension by the Man were met with billy-clubs and the arrest of a few of our comrades. It seemed that the quest of the armed pigs to capture our Zipster float had escalated in their eyes to the level of “holy grail,” and with soon-to-be ridiculous consequences. As the last of the Zippies and allies were battled away, the Rat float, with its Nixonian head, protruding nose and rodent body, fell into police state custody. But what was to transpire next was in some manner a consolation for the loss of our trophy float.

The Rat display was now surrounded by armed officers. Their next order of business was obviously to impound it. And it was here that the comedy of errors began. For as the officers started to lift the Rat float into their paddy-wagon, it began to bend this way and that way and this way and that way. As they scrambled from side to side, exerting great efforts to maintain control of their prized catch, they began bumping into and even falling over one another. It seemed that the harder they tried to subdue the silly sculpture, the more they wound up looking like modern-day Keystone Cops.

Adding insult to injury, a few Zipsters had begun playing kazoos in synchronization to the pigs' blundering attempts to impound the float. This proved quite the soundtrack, amplifying the outbursts of laughter now erupting from every direction. The chortles and guffaws that had broken out among our rabble began eliciting comical utterances from even the straightest passersby. Throughout it all, our Zippie chants of “Free The Rat! Free The Rat!” just grew louder and louder.

The channeling of the Keystone Cops continued in overdrive, leaving us high-minded protesters doubled over in laughter at the inanely futile and blundering antics. Some of us even threw debris at the cockamamie officers as they pulled one boner after another. Finally, in dire frustration, they simply gave up and began to dismantle the indomitable float, dildo-esque nose and all.

During this hilarious melee, someone loudly proclaimed: “Gee, all that's missing is a few pies being thrown in people's faces!”

I turned and, in amazement, found myself face to face with legendary Zipster Aron Kay. He sparked up a joint and introduced himself.

“So you came from Detroit?” he asked, as bellows of smoke exited his lungs. “Yep!” I answered in earnest. I relayed to Aron how I had traveled back in time for a repeat performance of this historical Zipster action, as well as to introduce myself to him in the past.

Aron's stoned-out eyes grew large. “Did you find a time machine to lead you to me?”

“Of course I did—a time machine called LSD!”

I told Aron all about the Grande Ballroom Wilson Mower Pursuit card, with its perforations into little tabs, and how these little hits of LSD had enabled what I now referred to as “time-tripping.”

“How magical!” he exclaimed.

I went on to tell him that I had been a fond admirer of Yippie action, especially the takeover of Tom Sawyer Island at Disneyland in 1970. He listened attentively as I related how, in the upcoming year of 1994, I would visit Disneyland with a few members of Hawkwind and relate this righteous Yippie action to them. When the band members would inquire as to whether the Yipsters had had any weapons with which to capture the island, I would tell them, “They had plenty of pot.” “Wow!” Alan Davey would exclaim. “With that, they could have held out for days!”

Then I told Aron that on a particular phone call of the future, when I was speaking with him about the events that had transpired this very day, he had said that he wished we had met each other at the time, and I had told him that perhaps that could in fact be arranged.

“So, Aron,” I smiled, with a grin that went from ear to ear, “just as you requested of me in the twenty-first century—that I come to you and introduce myself in past real time—here I am!”

“Damn!” he exclaimed. “I thought that John and Yoko getting us the mouse-ears was cool! You, Mischa, are very unique. Your journey with LSD is just making this day even better!”

“You will say those same exact words to me in 2012, in one of our conversations in the future!”

Aron and I continued our exchange a bit longer, blending brains so to speak. Soon, however, the Man began anew his quest for the arrest of more Zippies, and in the confusion that followed, off we ran in different directions. 

Stay tuned for Part 3