The Adventures Of Ted Nugent…Drug Czar

There have been some bizarre events along the rock and roll highway; like this…

Yup, Elvis Presley and Richard Nixon. No mere photo op, a real confab. Elvis gave Nixon a gun and Nixon gave Elvis a D.E.A. badge.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

So, I wasn’t particularly surprised to hear that another rock star has officially threw his hat in the ring to fight the war on drugs. This guy…

…wants to be your new Drug Czar!!!

Ted Nugent…Drug Czar.

Ted says…

We have all the laws we need to fight drugs. What America needs is the will-power and a renewed warrior spirit to crush evil and evil doers…

…Call me, President Obama. Hippies, dope heads, corrupt politicos and various other human debris hate me, which makes me the perfect man for the job.

As Drug Czar, I would charge our mayors and police departments to commit to fighting the drug gangs their top priority. Our inner cities will remain war zones until we commit to taking the trash out.

Yeah!! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

Picture this; on a sweltering summer night, deep in the heart of the Chiapas, in the center courtyard of a military style compound, there is gathered a super secret, yet large in number, audience of hippies, dope fiends, corrupt politicos, evil drug lords and various other human debris. They are roasting a succulent goat, celebrating their success and, at the same time, plotting their future strategy of overtaking the world powers by numbing them with dope, opening the door for a one-world government that they, the hippies, dope fiends, corrupt politicos, evil drug lords and various other human debris, will control with complete autonomy.

But, unbeknownst to them, silently through the Mexican night, there flies a stealth jet; point of origin Detroit USA. The cabin of the plane houses eight, specially designed, super high gain, 1,000 watt, all-tube uber amps. On top of the jet, as if surfing, rides a loin cloth wearing super hero clutching a Gibson Byrdland guitar. None other than the Motor City Madman.

As the plane nears the target location, Ted plugs in. The sound, an unmistakable clunktcha, sets the rain forest canopy rippling for miles in all directions. Suddenly, The Nuge bends the b-string at the twelfth fret, grins and waits for the feedback to build. A horrifying, hellish sound, hitherto unbeknownst to mankind erupts from the stealth bomber and reaches a magnificent crescendo exactly as the plane swoops to buzz the compound.

The hippies, dope fiends, corrupt politicos, evil drug lords and various other human debris look in to the moonless sky, paralyzed with fright. How could everything go so horribly wrong? At, that very moment, the Drug Czar, reaches behind his muscular, gleaming with sweat, right shoulder and produces a golden arrow, the tip soaked with Ronson lighter fluid. He lights the arrow, with a trusty American made Zippo lighter and pulls bowstring taught. Using the eagle eye that God gave him and specially designed, night vision Ray Ban Wayfarers, Ted locates his target; one especially offensive hippie with long, frizzy, greasy, lice ridden ridden hair.

The aim is true. Just as the hippie’s head is engulfed in flames, Ted stomps down on a Morley fuzz/wah that is rigged to open the hatch and let loose a bulging payload of napalm. Our hero opens throat and spews forth a blood curdling rock and roll scream for the ages as the bomber flies off through the rising smoke.

As dawn breaks through the jungle mist all that remains are the charred corpses of hippies, dope fiends, corrupt politicos, evil drug lords and various other human debris and…rubble.

The drug war is over my friends. It ends in victory for the righteous.

The world is safe for humanity.

Thank you, Drug Czar.

Thank you, Motor City Madman.

Thanks, Ted.