Acid Heroes

July 7, 2018

You’d think it would have occurred to them that this sort of thing would happen when they erected this statue

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 6:41 pm



June 24, 2018

My main recurring dream

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 11:07 pm

. . . . . . . . .


I had my main recurring dream again last night. I call it my “Curious George” dream, after the mischievous monkey character in the children’s books. And, like in the books, I start out trying to reach some goal, only to, step-by-step, be pushed farther and farther away from my goal. It’s like moving backwards.

The dream starts out with me riding on a BART train trying to get to some place. But I fall asleep and miss my stop and end up at the end of the line. The train is completely deserted except for one person who is sitting in the seat right next to mine. I’m annoyed by this violation of my space, and get up to push him away from me. But I realize it’s not actually a person, but a big bundled sleeping bag that someone had left for me. I guess they saw me sleeping there, realized I was homeless, and left it out of pity.

I get off the BART train, and get into another train that is headed back in the other direction. Then a big group of boisterous, obnoxious high school kids get on the train. I’m hoping they don’t come back to where I’m sitting. But that’s exactly what they do. They surround the area where I’m at. This one young guy — who’s face is peeling from being in the sun too long — gets in my face and starts acting derisive and mocking. He makes fun of my face, which, apparently is very red. Then he tries to stick his hand into my pocket to steal what I got in there. I want to smack the guy, but I have to treat him gingerly because I’m afraid if I get heavy with him, the whole pack of kids will turn on me.

Then the BART train transmogrifies into a Greyhound bus (you know how dreams are) that is barreling down the highway. I start packing up all my bags of stuff to prepare myself for when I reach my destination. Two of my feral cats — Blondie and Mini Scaredy — have also been accompanying me for this whole misadventure. The bus stops at a red light. And, for some reason, I decide to get out of the bus for a moment to take care of some business. But before I can get back on the bus, the bus takes off down the road. I’m chasing after the bus, hollering at the bus driver to stop. But it’s no use. And pretty soon the bus is gone.

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. . . . . . . . . . .. ..

So now I’ve got to figure out some way to contact the bus station, to get all my stuff and my feral cats before they get rid of them. Even worse, I realize I have no clothes on. I’m standing there on the side of the road completely naked. So now I’m really in a jam.

I wander down to the beach by the ocean. A large group of people are hanging out there in their bathing suits. So at least I won’t be too conspicuous in my nakedness — maybe I can pass for a nude beach-goer. I ask one of the men where I am, and he tells me I’m in some town I’ve never heard of. And I’m at least 70 miles away from Berkeley, my destination. He, too, is mocking and derisive towards me, makes fun of my red face. I realize these people will be no help. So I head off down the road trying to figure some way out of my predicament.

I come across a big house and sneak in the back door. Nobody seems to be home, so I steal a shirt and pants and head back towards the highway. I suddenly realize I have my cellphone — so for the first time I start to feel hopeful. I can contact help on my cellphone. And I got clothes on. So things are finally looking up. I get to the freeway — I’m thinking of hitching a ride to the next town so I can figure out where I am. But there’s a barrier that separates me from the freeway. So I’m running alongside the freeway, trying to somehow get on it.

And then I woke up.

As I usually do when I have a bad dream, I went right back to sleep. I like to keep dreaming until I finally get a good dream. I ended up sleeping until 2 in the afternoon, when I finally got a good dream. I’m hanging out with Hate Man and the Hate crew down by his garage, eating slices of apple pie. THE END




March 20, 2018

The Good Old Days

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 6:18 pm

Image may contain: one or more people, drink, closeup and indoor



I’ve concluded that THESE are the Good Old Days. And that today — March 19, 2018 — is a Good Old Day.

In fact, verily as I speak, I’m feeling wistfully nostalgic about some of the things I experienced and felt earlier in the afternoon.

Those were the Good Old Hours!!




March 18, 2018

Well, this is a tricky issue, theologically speaking. The guy was praying to God to intervene. But what if the lion was praying to God for some supper?

Filed under: Backwords from Ace,Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 9:02 pm


Alec Ndiwane, a Zion Christian Church prophet, was attacked on a safari while trying to show that God would save him in front of fellow church members in South Africa’s Kruger National Park..

February 27, 2018

Twisted Image #24

Filed under: Backwords from Ace,Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 7:12 pm

Twisted Image #24



This was another Twisted Image cover from November of 1990. Its just a parody after I was described by no less than CREEM magazine as “incendiary.” (I had to look the word up in the dictionary. “Incendiary.” I wasn’t sure they meant it as a compliment.)

February 26, 2018

Feral Cat Crime Blotter

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 9:26 pm



At approximately 7 AM, February 26, 2018, the suspect was first spotted lurking in the vincinity of the Backwords Campsite in the Berkeley Hills.  The suspect was described as a gray, male raccoon, approximately 7 years old, and weighing about 25 pounds, with a distinctive black mask covering his eyes.  According to eye witness reports, the raccoon stole a considerable amount of cat food from two different cat food dishes. According to police records, this raccoon is a repeat offender and should be considered armed and dangerous.



February 22, 2018

Back in 1996 I used to hitchhike back and forth from Berkeley to Arcata every month

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 7:46 pm

Image result for humboldt "101 north"


Its weird how certain songs can be like time capsules that transport you back to the time to when you first heard the song.

I remember the first time I heard that Dolly Parton song, I Will Always Love You, it was back in 1996. I used to hitchhike back and forth from Arcata to Berkeley every month. And this one time I happened to get picked up by this black man.

Now when you’re hitchhiking around and you get in some guy’s car, you’re usually a little paranoid. Because you never know who you’re dealing with. So you’re sort of checking them out as you’re talking to them. To make sure they’re cool. And I was a little more paranoid than usual. Because I rarely got picked up by a black guy in my travels. OK?

So we’re chatting back and forth as we drive up 101 North, about 100 miles from Arcata. And in the course of our conversation he mentions he’s the father of a young son who suffers from some kind of physical disability. I forget what it was. Parkinson’s Disease or something like that. And for the first time I noticed his son is sitting in the backseat of the car. He’s about 5 years old. And I can tell he’s seriously physically impaired in some way. But he’s quietly sitting there and he’s otherwise doing OK.

So at that point I realize the black guy is OK. He’s a loving, caring father who’s taking care of his son. So I relax and I’m no longer paranoid.

Image result for humboldt "101 north"

Then the guy decides to play some music. So he pops a cassette into the cassette player. And its that Dolly Parton song, I Will Always Love You. Which is the LAST think I expected some black guy who picked me up hitchhiking would play. A Dolly Parton song. So this ride is just getting weirder and weirder.

I’d never actually heard the song before. But as the song was playing I couldn’t help it. I started crying. Maybe to some people its a corny song. And maybe it is. But I was so overwhelmed by the emotion of the music and the weirdness of the moment. I turned my head to look out the window. So he couldn’t see me crying. You don’t want to cry in front of some other guy. Because that’s sissy stuff. Plus. the guy might start getting paranoid about ME. Some stranger he let into his car who is now publicly weeping over a fucking Dolly Parton song. Sheesh.

Later I would hear the Whitney Houston version. And I cry when that one comes on too.

But EVERY time I hear that Dolly Parton song I flashback in time to that moment. Riding in a car on Highway 101. In 1996.



February 20, 2018

A Presidential story for Presidents Day

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 9:55 pm


My first memory of a president was President Kennedy. Ironically, I heard about him for the first time on the day he got his fool head blown off.

I was 7 years old at the time. And I was sitting at my desk in my 2nd grade classroom. When this older kid came walking into the classroom. He talked to my teacher for a few moments. Then he walked over to me and said: “Your mother asked me to get you and walk you back to your house.”

So that was weird. We left the classroom. And walked together down the streets of High Bridge, New Jersey. The streets were completely empty. Because everyone was

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either in school or at work. So it was like walking through a ghost town. And I kept thinking: “Am I in trouble?” And I tried to remember if I had done anything bad lately that would cause me to get pulled out of school.

When I got home my Mom was in an ultra serious mood. “Somebody just killed the president,” my Mother said. “That’s why we took you out of school.”

“Oh,” I said.

“It could be the Russians are behind it,” said my Mother. “And they might start launching atom bombs at us.”

Image result for kennedy dallas motorcade


“We may have to go down to the cellar and stay in the shelter,” said my Father, gravely. “And wait it out until all the radiation is gone.”

We had this crude, make-shift “fall-out shelter” in our basement. It was basically just a room with a bunch of canned foods and bottled water and flashlights.

I wasn’t sure what “radiation” was. But it sounded like some deadly form of invisible cooties.

Then we huddled around our black-and-white television set. Men were rushing back and forth apparently doing important things. It all seemed really SERIOUS but I had no idea why.

I went up to my bedroom and played with my toys. And I don’t remember anything else about that day except that i was probably happy I got out of school early.



February 16, 2018

Two Generations of Hate

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 10:15 pm

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This is a painting that I commissioned from the street artist Johnny Rev (also known as John Dammit and 8-Track).

I call it “Two Generations of Hate.” Because the guy on the left was this young gutter punk named Hatred.  And the guy on the right is this old street person named Hate Man.

I still got the painting stashed somewhere in my storage locker with all my other junk. Probably some day the painting will get sold off at an art auction for a lot of money.  But me and Johnny Rev probably won’t be around to collect any of the dough. That’s usually how it works in the art business. Art is a great field of endeavor.



February 12, 2018

Watch “A tour of Telegraph Avenue with Ace Backwords” on YouTube

Filed under: Uncategorized — Ace Backwords @ 2:19 am

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