Partying like it's 1967
Sarah Atallah, Staff Columnist
Issue date: 9/17/08
The genius duo of Steven Jobs and Steven Wozniak has caused expecting
mothers to put aside the classical music and baby name books. Whether
they're expecting a boy or girl, soon to be parents will name their
baby Steven. "The Stevens," a brainy remake of "The Heathers," will
feature an extra scene after the credits where one of the Stevens
builds a robot, puts a computer together and pats his head all at the
same time.
The Steven tag team has made a dentist friendly fruit famous and
introduced the world to a device that can store both the Sex Pistols
and "Hairspray" soundtrack without any hullabaloo. All I ask is
before the pair makes "I, Robot" nonfiction, the two should be
philanthropic and build a time machine.
Ever since I butterfly stroked out of my mother's womb, I have been
trying to travel back in time to the '60s and '70s. My first duty
would be to bring back a dictionary and read protesters the
definition of peaceful. After giving my message from the future, I'd
strap a record player to my back, put on my hiking boots and join the
Yippies on the climb up General Logan.
Until the Stevens are able to meet my needs, I found another way to
experience the hippie years of the past, while in the present. After
a 20 minute drive, with plenty of rest stops on the way, I arrived at
a Bob Dylan concert and sat on the grass in a '60s fantasy land.
I amusingly discovered that I wasn't the only person attempting to be
in a past decade. A woman with more than one use of grass shouted,
"Back in 19, two and seven I could take my shoes off." A shoe-less
woman is an indication of prostitution by today's standards. After
the barefooted seductress' remark, a couple said, "She's probably old
like us, trying to be young."
Until the concert, I believed that age was just a number. To most
degrees, I've supported the cougar and hughgar communities. Hughgar,
attributed to Hugh Hefner, is the title I think male cougars should
have. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher are great additions to
cougarville, but not all cougar or hughgar couples age as gracefully.
Sitting on the blanket next to us was the prime example of a
disturbing couple with an obvious age gap. The two made out for most
of the show, only stopping when an oxygen tank was needed for one of
them to breathe. Toward the end, we watched as they slow danced with
cigarettes clamped between their fingers. They hoped to start an
avant-garde tango by replacing the classic rose between the teeth
with a romantic cigarette.
Another distraction around us was the couple we referred to as Mr.
and Mrs. Groperson. They seemed to have started a new version of hand
holding. Instead of clasping hands, they cupped each other's buttocks
and even as Dylan sang, "The Times They Are A-Changin'," the
placements of their hands were a-stayin'.
When we left the concert, I missed observing the odd, amusing
audience members that magically managed to place their blankets next
to ours. We were entertained by them the entire night and hope to
always be in such good company. Oh, and Bob Dylan was great too.
--
Sarah Atallah is an English senior.
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