Fonda: “…During the production of Easy Rider, a few of us traveled down to New Orleans for a coupla’ weeks to film the Mardi Gras parade scenes. Hopper would get fried on acid and quart bottles of Miller High Life and would disappear for long stretches, then show up late at night, his arms covered up to the elbows in fresh gore. ‘What the hell’d you do?’ I asked him on one such occasion.
     “‘Killed a pig, man,’ he told me. ‘Not a cop, but an actual hog. It was, like, so totally emblematic. As an experience, you know? I feel completely elevated.’

“Anyway, one night while Hopper was off fetishizing the heavy wetness of swine innards, Karen Black, Toni Basil and I got busy screwing each other in a rickety cot at this cheap hotel Hopper’d put us up in just off Bonnabel Blvd — y’know, tripping on mushrooms and Beaujolais, experiencing our bodies, kind of intertwined in this hot, sticky-soft tangle, orgasming from time to time and feeding each other crab gumbo out of a waxy takeout container. Very humid, the whole experience. And, y’know, very heavy, emotionally. But my point is, even we three never got our love on in front of a bunch of bound and leashed Iraqi prisoners. And I’m, like, Peter fucking Fonda, y’know? That Lynddie England is one wild, freaky bitch, is all I’m saying, man. Groovy, but in a non-linear kinda way. Dig…?”