Roll Up, Roll Up — for the Greyhound Bus Hippyland Tour!

So, you're trippin' with your blue-jean baby down a marijuana-scented street, wearing your tie-dyed shirt, love beads and huaraches, when you hear an announcement blaring from a packed tour bus: “Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your left you'll see a hairy hippie passed out in front of the Phật Phúc Noodle Bar. Ahead on the right you’ll notice a parade of shaved-head Hare Krishnas -- such a happy lot, wrapped in their orange gauze! Oh, and do you see those scraggly kids carrying signs that say 'drop acid, not bombs'? They're the pinko-loving, un-American war protestors. Now, just up ahead on your left is a store where stoners buy things called zig-zag paper and roach clips. They call it a 'head shop'….don't ask me why!" Ah, what better way to take in the sights, sounds and aromas of the Summer of Love than to book a reservation on a Greyhound Bus Line "Hippyland Tour" of the famous Haight-Ashbury district!

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Vacancies Abound…in Frank Zappa’s Surrealist-Furnished Motel

I've stayed in my share of dreary motels, haughty hotels, Socialist-designed apartments with poster-board walls, and even nuclear plant "guest houses" (don't even ask) in villages with names that lacked vowels, but I've never experienced anything quite like Frank Zappa's 1971 mind-blowing movie, "200 Motels." But then, I never dropped acid, either. (Becherovka was the only substance available to numb the reality of the Motel Moskva in Brno, Czechoslovakia, the worst of my many lodging nightmares). Every time I thought I was losing my mind - traveling the weary road on business trips in the 1990s - I remembered the opening line of a movie I once saw, and suddenly I didn't feel so alone in my misery: "Ladies and gentlemen, you can go mad on the road." So goes the intro to Zappa's "surrealistic documentary," which opened at London's Piccadilly Classic Cinema in the U.K. on this date in 1971.

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Many Shades of Pale

There have been more than 1,000 cover versions of "A Whiter Shade of Pale," the debut single by British progressive-rock band Procol Harum. The hauntingly beautiful song with its Bach-like melody and trippy lyrics was a perfect soundtrack for the Summer of Love. It hit the #1 one spot on the U.K. charts on June 8, 1967, and remained there for six weeks. In fact, it's one of fewer than 30 singles to have sold over 10 million copies worldwide.

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Hela, Heba Helloa, Everybody

Forty-five years ago today, The Beatles' "Hello, Goodbye" was the number one song in America. For me, the best part of the tune is the sing-along ending coda, "hela, heba helloa." I just love the way it chug-chugs along. (Those words, written by Paul McCartney, mean absolutely nothing in any any foreign language, by the way). "Hello, Goodbye" was the first Beatles single to trick us with a fake ending, then restart with a completely different rhythm. The band referred to the coda as the Maori Finale, due to its tribal sound.

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