I think if I were to ever do anything with rhododendron, which is not bloody likely, I'd use a fraction of a small, single leave from the rhododendron in my yard. I'm happy to let others assay this for sure. Maybe a bucket list thing like IV DMT...
IV DMT...?
My dude. Surely you jest.
Jesus Christ on a cracker.
I can't tell if you're puttin' on the Ritz,
but you are one seriously silly bitch...
I greet your ghost with the appropriate doses of fear and respect--and while there is absolutely no combination of circumstances on God's green Earth which would necessitate my present incarnation to SLAM THE GOD MOLECULE--unlike you, apparently, you gloriously sick individual, you delirious and delightfully depraved window-licker--I'll will confess the shamanic-money-shot of my dreams is as follows: if I were able to smoke a lung-load in triplicate of DMT immediately after slamming one of my imfamous but exceedingly rare shots of soy sauce--AKA keep on rockin' in the Fentanyl-free world--hella rare, greaser hair, in 2020 thanks to our sponsors, a delightfully old-school independent-yet-Zeta-adjacent mom-and-pop op--I anticipate, with sweating palms and a drop in blood pressure-- this
milkshake brings all da ancestral to da yard. I try not to get my hopes up but I do envision this particular flavor leaves an aftertaste of God and the Devil at the back of the tongue.
You have a rhododendron in your yard? How neat!
FYI TL;DR--
(I'm pretty sure, at this point in my research that I would find the effects of Mad Honey to be in pretty POOR TASTE to say the least. Deliriants are pretty much major suckage and can kiss my taint. Logically I know this...AND YET: I am such a gosh-darn sucker and also a slut for shamanistic soul food--the legends draw me in--I want to know what all the BUZZ is about--it's getting to the point where I'm ready to endure an unnecessarily LOUD and uncalled for, full-retard-strength ass-flogging delivered by the punishing tendrils of my one-night Mistress, rhododendron--I'll suffer in silence through the BENDS and the SPINS and the sea sickness on a hard wood floor--I'll grin and give it the old ascetic embrace of the ancient Desert Fathers--I'm an old soldier and a damn salty dog--and ENOUGH WITH YOUR OVERINDULGENT LINGUISTIC DILLY-DALLYING!--IT IS TIME FOR YOUR LONG-AWAITED COMMUNION WITH THE DAMN DELICIOUS INTERDIMENSIONAL HIVE-MIND--you understand the appeal--I just want to hear the bees, man--I long to feel the insectile sussurrus rising and hitting those resonant frequencies in my wet flesh--hot DAMN--I long to gaze AFTER LONG LAST upon waves of wasp drones, sinuous and synchronous, that move like sheets of azure and ebony silk, performing before my infidel eyes the ancient break-dance they call their language--and in that moment, genitals swaddled as they have been this entire time in strips of Mad Honey-saturated muslin--I shyly strive to meet the compound eyes of the throned queen--I confront the fractal likenesses of my grotesque human form--a thousand fetishes reflect out at me from the depths of her royal, compartmentalized visage--she is pure class, Her wings spun from sugar and a bitter taste--of vintage Hell's Angels crank, gelatin windowpane--the alluring curves of a segmented carapace is alien elegance-- all this as I sit below her quivering feet, I see myself as they see me--some kind of ignorant, rockabilly baboon--surrounded on all sides by a superior insect intellect--infinite iterations dancing as one--and I get where I was going all along: I HEAR WHAT THEY'RE SAYING TO ME LOUD AND CLEAR. I WEEP OPENLY AND WHEN THEY BEGIN TO COAT ME IN ROYAL JELLY I DON'T PROTEST, NOT AT ALL)
Afterword.
Then again, I don't know if I should be dipping my feet into an unfamiliar, highly sophisticated and predatory insectile consciousness. I think HIVE MIND is code for DIRTY COMMUNIST WITH A DIRTY BEARD and I sure as shit ain't no PINKO WUSSNUGGET--so like a self-respecting RED BLOODED AMERICAN I should probably just MacGyver this shit:
Freedom Hive:
a fresh, American twist on an old insecto-communist favorite!
You're guests will be sure to ask, why are my lips tingling?
--2-3 shots Absinthe
--deep deep breaths while you clean out the cat's box
--1 FAMILY-SIZE BOX OF HONEYCOMB CEREAL, to be eaten in one sitting
YEP, THAT SHOULD HIT THE SPOT REAL GOOD
--from the land of black, black tar and green, green chili...