Archaic term for any of the shiny rainbow of barbiturates prescribed like Easter candy in the sixties in spite of causing more death and mayhem than the Vietnam War (to Americans, that is). May help to explain the learning disorders common in subsequent generations.* See also: ape wafers, gorilla biscuits.
*OK, we had learning disorders too; we were diagnosed by professionals as "lazy", "spoiled", "disrespectful", "undisciplined", etc.) (Has anybody with a PhD in Ed Psych ever noticed how fucking boring high school is, except for the handful of anal-compulsive overachievers who will end up either shooting themselves or in charge of further fucking up this barbaric, feudal, shithole of a country?) Off topic! Minus 20 pts!
I was hoping to get into Cindy's pants, but I took some fender benders at the dance to get loose and then sideswiped the vice-principal's Edsel in the parking lot.
Alas, I must disagree with my associates. An earlier archaic and authentic definition of "gorilla biscuits", along with fender benders and ape wafers, referred to any of the brightly colored palette of barbiturates; reds, blues, and yellows,* readily available in the sixties (1967, not some fucking 1987 Grateful Dead concert). It slipped official notice that these drugs caused more mayhem and death than the Vietnam War (except, of course, for the Vietnamese).
Anyhow, I remember being struck at the time by the witty repartee in the example below, overheard in some dingy quasi-hip tenement decades before the band was named and some poseur managed to confuse up and down.
*Optional Text - Weird Ramblings: Now that I think of it, these are the very colors of the Wonder Bread Balloons... Coincidence? That's what they want you to believe! What? Never heard of Wonder Bread? That's because I'm getting so fucking old, and that's why Nembutal is enjoying a new popularity among my peer group, that little ace in the hole you want to keep within easy reach when the time comes for the compassionate healthcare providers to put you on life support and torture your ass for five or ten years until your estate is exhausted. No thanks, sonny; pass the goof-balls and a pint of Ballerina Vodka.
Joe: "Hey, whatchu doin' tonight?"
Moe: "I'm gonna eat gorilla biscuits and drink Old English and go star gazing."
That is to say, he would take a couple of Tuinal and wash it down with malt liquor until he collapsed on some citizen's lawn staring up into the hazy Long Beach sky, hopefully not drowning in his own puke as became customary among some of our idols. Oh well, to each his own.