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1. The Pol Pot Journals.
2. Can You Pass the Acid Test?
3. Memoirs of a Drugged-Up, Sex-Crazed Yippie.
All books are $20 + $2.25 shipping and handling. War on Drugs/ War on People is not available at this time. I can autograph it, but it is a collectors item. If you want insurance on that book , you must provide the funds yourself.
I will take about a week to get autographs back and up to two weeks for the books themselves. Send $6 for overnight delivery.
If using Pay Pal email your order to ottozero2001@yahoo.com. For mail send a check money order, or cash if you are bold, to
Otto's Books,
4865 N. Maize,
Maize, KS 67101
USA.
Be sure to specify which book you are ordering.
Otto's Books
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thursday, January 08, 2009
New Pol Pot book
The Pol Pot Journals have been replaced with I Am Pol Pot by Steve Otto, the ghost writer. It’s on Lulu but it is supposed to be available on the usual book outlets, such as Amazon and Barns & Noble soon. So it should be available through your local Borders as well as through Barns and Noble.
It is still available at Lulu, http://www.lulu.com/content/5492340.
It is still available at Lulu, http://www.lulu.com/content/5492340.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Can You Pass the Acid Test?:
New
Here is a comprehensive reference book to songs, publications and objects of art that reflected the last century’s counter-cultures as well as government and mainstream press attempts to censor them.
Sex sells and the subject is brought up several times. But this book is more of a documented history of the US drug and porn culture. It does not have a lot of gratuitous sex or drug use portrayed in it as in Memoirs or a Drugged-Up, Sex-Crazed Yippie, my fictional novel. This is more of a resourse book and will come in handy for those who want to argue about America's drug laws. It is heavily researched and has some amazing information in it. It is political and serious. So it's a completely different book, but I think many readers will want to get a copy. For one thing it exposes the racism of drug laws. It also shows how the narcotics population has remained nearly unchanged since the early 1900s. Some great arguments against our "war on drugs" can be found in this book.
Available at:
barnsandnoble.com
Amazon.com
Here is a comprehensive reference book to songs, publications and objects of art that reflected the last century’s counter-cultures as well as government and mainstream press attempts to censor them.
Sex sells and the subject is brought up several times. But this book is more of a documented history of the US drug and porn culture. It does not have a lot of gratuitous sex or drug use portrayed in it as in Memoirs or a Drugged-Up, Sex-Crazed Yippie, my fictional novel. This is more of a resourse book and will come in handy for those who want to argue about America's drug laws. It is heavily researched and has some amazing information in it. It is political and serious. So it's a completely different book, but I think many readers will want to get a copy. For one thing it exposes the racism of drug laws. It also shows how the narcotics population has remained nearly unchanged since the early 1900s. Some great arguments against our "war on drugs" can be found in this book.
Available at:
barnsandnoble.com
Amazon.com
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Codeine got me through the Disco days
The following are excerpts from Memoirs of a Drugged-Up, Sex-Crazed Yippie,Tales from the 1970s counter-culture: Drugs, sex, politics and rock and roll
By Steve Otto
Chapter Twelve
Disco sucked
But the cocaine was real good
Cocaine was a popular drug among the disco set. That was definitely the case here in Kansas. That may be part of the reason that Rusty and I were able to get nearly pure cocaine on such a regular basis.
I still preferred narcotics to coke. I remember when Tony first explained to me the process of signing for a bottle of codeine cough syrup. We were sitting at his apartment one evening after I got off work.
“I usually ask for Novahistine,” he said. “There’s one called DH and another called expectorant. They both have the same amount of codeine.”
Naturally I couldn’t wait to try it. I went to a pharmacy on the main street of Lawrence. The regular counter was in the front. I had to walk to the back of the building, passed the rows of shelves covered with over-the-counter medical items and up to the prescription service area. It was one of Lawrence’s older buildings, with white cement walls.
“Yes?” the dark haired clerk, in his 40s, asked.
“I’d like some Novahistine DH,” I said nervously.
He pulled out a bottle, then a ledger. He filled in everything except my name and address.
“Fill this out,” he said.
I filled out the ledger, paid about $3.90 for the bottle and left. Once out the door and out of sight, I drank half the bottle. Once I started to feel it, I drank the rest. By the time I got home, I kept feeling these little rushes going down my back. I felt great. This was one of the best highs I had ever had.
“Why don’t you just get a bottle of whiskey?” Rusty asked, when I got home.
“This is a much better high than whiskey,” I said.
I’m sure he thought it sounded disgusting, but I didn’t care. There were restrictions on how often a person could buy it and how much they could buy. Over the next few months I went to some other pharmacies and discovered I liked the DH the best.
On one occasion I went out to Quantrill’s Saloon, using codeine, with Harry. I met Harry while I was hanging out in the various main street bars. We played pool one night and I had an unusual sense of confidence that allowed us to run the tables a few times. We played partners and we seemed unbeatable. When I was high on that stuff, I could function as if I seemed straight and I had this overwhelming sense of well-being.
Quantrill’s was a popular bar with both local young people and some of the long-term college kids. It was a large building in the older section of town. The bar itself was in the middle of the room and there was a few pool tables near the back, and lots of brown wooden chairs and tables near the front door. It had pale green walls and a slightly damp and musty smell that no doubt came from the building’s old walls. There was a jukebox and a picture of Quantrill on the wall.
Josh, from the Public Notice, complained one evening that people would name things after William Quantrill.
“He burns down most of the town for the Southern cause and they name a flea market and bar after him,” Josh said.
The paper had run an article on the same theme. Quantrill was famous for his raid on Lawrence, in 1863, in which he and his men slaughtered much of the town’s male population. They were Confederate irregulars and they burned most of the buildings. Lawrence was considered a Union stronghold. The article had a cartoon with a man holding a bloody knife. He had a button on his shirt that read: “Our hero.”
Despite Josh’s reservations about the place, it attracted many good-looking young women. Harry and I often tried to pick them up. I remember talking to one woman, a tall blond bombshell, after I took some codeine. I had an easy time talking to her because I was calm and cool. I wasn’t nervous at all.
“So you’re a business major,” I said to her. “That’s interesting. I’m interested in journalism.”
“Aren’t journalists idealists?” she asked?
“Yes.”
Our conversation went nowhere and I never talked to her again.
By Steve Otto
Chapter Twelve
Disco sucked
But the cocaine was real good
Cocaine was a popular drug among the disco set. That was definitely the case here in Kansas. That may be part of the reason that Rusty and I were able to get nearly pure cocaine on such a regular basis.
I still preferred narcotics to coke. I remember when Tony first explained to me the process of signing for a bottle of codeine cough syrup. We were sitting at his apartment one evening after I got off work.
“I usually ask for Novahistine,” he said. “There’s one called DH and another called expectorant. They both have the same amount of codeine.”
Naturally I couldn’t wait to try it. I went to a pharmacy on the main street of Lawrence. The regular counter was in the front. I had to walk to the back of the building, passed the rows of shelves covered with over-the-counter medical items and up to the prescription service area. It was one of Lawrence’s older buildings, with white cement walls.
“Yes?” the dark haired clerk, in his 40s, asked.
“I’d like some Novahistine DH,” I said nervously.
He pulled out a bottle, then a ledger. He filled in everything except my name and address.
“Fill this out,” he said.
I filled out the ledger, paid about $3.90 for the bottle and left. Once out the door and out of sight, I drank half the bottle. Once I started to feel it, I drank the rest. By the time I got home, I kept feeling these little rushes going down my back. I felt great. This was one of the best highs I had ever had.
“Why don’t you just get a bottle of whiskey?” Rusty asked, when I got home.
“This is a much better high than whiskey,” I said.
I’m sure he thought it sounded disgusting, but I didn’t care. There were restrictions on how often a person could buy it and how much they could buy. Over the next few months I went to some other pharmacies and discovered I liked the DH the best.
On one occasion I went out to Quantrill’s Saloon, using codeine, with Harry. I met Harry while I was hanging out in the various main street bars. We played pool one night and I had an unusual sense of confidence that allowed us to run the tables a few times. We played partners and we seemed unbeatable. When I was high on that stuff, I could function as if I seemed straight and I had this overwhelming sense of well-being.
Quantrill’s was a popular bar with both local young people and some of the long-term college kids. It was a large building in the older section of town. The bar itself was in the middle of the room and there was a few pool tables near the back, and lots of brown wooden chairs and tables near the front door. It had pale green walls and a slightly damp and musty smell that no doubt came from the building’s old walls. There was a jukebox and a picture of Quantrill on the wall.
Josh, from the Public Notice, complained one evening that people would name things after William Quantrill.
“He burns down most of the town for the Southern cause and they name a flea market and bar after him,” Josh said.
The paper had run an article on the same theme. Quantrill was famous for his raid on Lawrence, in 1863, in which he and his men slaughtered much of the town’s male population. They were Confederate irregulars and they burned most of the buildings. Lawrence was considered a Union stronghold. The article had a cartoon with a man holding a bloody knife. He had a button on his shirt that read: “Our hero.”
Despite Josh’s reservations about the place, it attracted many good-looking young women. Harry and I often tried to pick them up. I remember talking to one woman, a tall blond bombshell, after I took some codeine. I had an easy time talking to her because I was calm and cool. I wasn’t nervous at all.
“So you’re a business major,” I said to her. “That’s interesting. I’m interested in journalism.”
“Aren’t journalists idealists?” she asked?
“Yes.”
Our conversation went nowhere and I never talked to her again.
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