Bill Clinton's generation of twits, thieves, anti-Americans, fools,
ignoramuses all wrapped up with arrogance
Woodstock: Generation Idiot
By Warner Todd Huston
August 16, 2009
Sickeningly, an effluvium of nostalgia over the debacle concert near
the town of Woodstock, New York in August of 1969 is everywhere. It's
the big 4-0. We should take this anniversary to remember that the
catch phrase of the Woodstock generation eventually became "don't
trust anyone over 30." In the case of the white wash of what really
happened with the concert in Max Yasgur's field, the warning is
fitting because the truth seems to be forgotten for the fluffy
propaganda of how wonderful the concert was. The concert is also
emblematic of some of the vapid 60's generation by no means all of
them, but the worst of them, to be sure.
In this single event we see some of the worst aspects of Bill
Clinton's generation of twits, thieves, anti-Americans, fools, and
ignoramuses all wrapped up with the arrogance that we've come to
associate with the extreme left in America today. Just think of how
this messy event went down.
Originally Michael Lang, John Roberts, Joel Rosenman, and Artie
Kornfeld imagined that they were creating a for-profit venture in the
initial planning stages of the concert. Of course, we all know that
the concert became "free" the moment too many people showed up and
arrogantly crashed the poorly secured facilities the promoters
created on the Yasgur's farmland. Sadly, the freeloaders that came
without tickets didn't care that other people were losing money, they
didn't care that they were destroying someone's property, and they
paid no mind to what was right. They wanted something for free and
arrogantly stole it outright. That attitude pretty much exemplifies
the Clinton generation.
But that wasn't the only ill-planned aspect of this concert. The mess
started from day one.
The team that created the concert were not well acquainted with each
other and disagreements on the goals for the event came from the
beginning as each seemed to have his own vision of what this whole
thing was supposed to be. The money men, Roberts and Rosenman, didn't
realize that their partners didn't much care about the money aspect
of planning and were quite free with the finance men's cash. This, of
course, is typical of the Clinton generation that finds it quite easy
to spend other people's money , isn't it?
The initial site the concert was to be held on was withdrawn by the
city of Middletown when it became clear to the city council that the
planners really didn't have any idea what they were doing. There
weren't enough portable toilet facilities rented by the promoters nor
food vendors arranged and the area was too small for the large number
of concert goers expected. Yasgur's farmland was settled on after
several other plans fell through.
Not only was the vaunted "free concert" supposed to be a capitalist
venture, but according to Country Joe McDonald there was also a bit
of extortion involved early in the concert's planning. It just so
happened that Abbie Hoffman, well known criminal and the agitator of
Chicago 7 fame, found out about the thing and had contacted the
promoters demanding $10,000 as protection money to keep his "yippies"
from crashing the event and perpetrating violence there. Like many of
the Clinton generation, extortion, coercion and criminality is always
in the mix.
Of course, we all know what happened during the concert. Rain made
the land a gooey mess, food was practically non-existent, toilet
facilities were utterly inadequate, Yasgur's land was ruined with
tons of garbage left behind the uncaring hippies in attendance, and
several died. It was all an utter debacle.
In the end all the worst of the 60's hippie generation were in
evidence in the Woodstock concert. Bad central planning, over
spending of the budget by people not responsible for actually raising
the money, criminality and extortion, a disregard for private
property and an complete breakdown in order and common sense. This
sort of foolishness typifies the Clinton generation.
But, it should be remembered that there was another part of the 60's
generation. There were those that protested against the yippies and
hippies, those that proudly went off to war, those that worked, went
to school and tried to become useful members of society. It is
unfortunate that those great Americans have been forever tainted by
the debacle that was Woodstock, forever associated with all the worst
the 60s had to offer.
Don't get me wrong, much of the music was great. I love to hear
Janice Joplin belt out her version of the blues as much as the next
guy. But all the wrong lessons were learned by Woodstock. And so
Woodstock went on 40 years ago this weekend, but may it soon be
Warner can be reached at: email@example.com
Both a Dream and a Nightmare
The concert was a joyous celebration of freedom and an expression of chaos
AUGUST 14, 2009
By MARTHA BAYLES
The 1969 Woodstock festival wasn't held in Woodstock, N.Y., but in a
dairy-farming hamlet 43 miles away with the evocative name of Bethel.
On the 40th anniversary of what has clearly become a milestone in
American cultural history, there is a surprising resonance between
the meanings we take from Woodstock and Bethel as mentioned in the Bible.
Bethel first appears in Genesis as the place in Canaan where Jacob
dreams of a stairway to heaven with "messengers of God . . . going up
and coming down it." This resonates with the notion of Woodstock as a
vision of ideal community, where all may enjoy total freedom because
all are committed to peace, love and harmony.
The second mention is in 1 Kings, where Bethel is one of two sites
where the ruler Jeroboam corrupts his people by erecting a shrine to
the Golden Calf. To less starry-eyed observers of Woodstock, this
reference evokes a nightmare vision of human beings given over to
self-indulgence, debauchery and destruction.
Which is the true picture? Most Americans embrace one and reject the
other, a reflection of how polarized we have been ever since that
summer when Jimi Hendrix kissed the sky and Neil Armstrong walked on
the moon. Yet one reason for the continuing allure (not to mention
commercialization) of Woodstock is that it was neither all dream nor
all nightmare. It was both.
On the dream side, the first performer of the weekend, folk singer
Richie Havens, recalls looking out at the sea of humanity and feeling
"at the exact center of true freedom." Asked to keep playing until
the next act could arrive, Mr. Havens heroically obliged, ending a
three-hour set with an improvised medley of the old spiritual
"Motherless Child" and a rousing chorus consisting of one word: "Freedom!"
Watching this inspired performance, it's hard not to think of certain
subsequent mass meetingsin Krakow, East Berlin, Beijing, Kiev,
Tehranthat expressed the same primal urge to break free of all
restraint. Some cultures fear and distrust this urge, but American
culture applauds iteven though our political tradition teaches that
true freedom is not the total lack of restraint but the capacity to
substitute self-restraint for the chains of arbitrary power.
Surprisingly, this lesson was in evidence at Woodstock. The event was
banned from two other upstate communities because of dire predictions
of "maddened youths" rampaging through the streets. Given the violent
demonstrations, assassinations and bizarre crimes occurring at the
time, these predictions were not paranoid. Yet Woodstock proved them
wrong, largely through the efforts of the Hog Farm, an exceptionally
well-organized hippie commune whose members, in the words of local
merchant Art Vassner, "kept the peace. They were dirty, but they were nice."
Yet chaos was never far from the surface. Abbie Hoffman, leader of
the anarchist Youth International Party (Yippies), grabbed the
microphone during a performance by the Who to make a political
speech. And it quickly became obvious that any attempt to restrict
admission would result in a riot, so the sale of tickets was
abandoned, along with the fence surrounding the concert area.
Among the various parties taking credit for cutting that fence was
another anarchist group called Up Against the Wall Motherf**kers.
Significantly, UAW/MF emerged not from any organized political
movement but from the arty fringes of Manhattan's Lower East Side,
where the priority was not to end racism or war but to ridicule and
attack "bourgeois" figures such as Andy Warhol and rock impresario Bill Graham.
A few years later, such adolescent nihilism would produce its own
species of music: punk rock. But at Woodstock, this had not yet
happened. Indeed, one of the main forces keeping the peace was the
relatively upbeat tone of the music. From folk acts like Joan Baez to
rock groups such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, the performers drew
on a rich and varied array of vernacular American sounds, ending with
Jimi Hendrix's fractured "Star-Spangled Banner," a brilliant virtuoso
piece that says more about the temper of the times than a hundred
Still, the unhappy fate of Hendrix, who died the following year,
brings us back to the Golden Calf. In the late 1960s drugs were held
up as a quick and easy path to spiritual transcendence. At Woodstock,
the worship of this particular false idol peaked during the
performance of Sly and the Family Stone. Watching Sly Stone power his
way through "I Want to Take You Higher," it is obvious that his roots
lay in the Pentecostal Church. But on this occasion he was not
referring to the Holy Spirit.
It is a curious irony that most of the nostalgic films about the
Woodstock era, from "Forrest Gump" to "Across the Universe," are love
stories, because true love was hardly the watchword of the time. On
the contrary, the motto was "If it feels good, do it." Of the trio
"sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll," the first item remains the most
divisive. This is because while the orgy at Woodstock may not have
reached biblical proportions, it did encourage the 1960s generation
to regard sexual fidelity as an antiquated Puritan notion, and erotic
liberation as the key to sanity and happiness. It would take another
generation for that to show up as a really bad trip.
Ms. Bayles is the author of "America's Cultural Footprint," to be
published by Yale University Press in 2010.
Woodstock generation didn't live up to its idealistic start
August 15, 2009
Forty years ago today, more than a half million people gathered on a
hillside on Max Yasgur's farm in Bethel, N.Y.
Thirty-two musical acts showed up to perform in the heat, the rain,
the mud, at the break of dawn and as the sun dropped on Sullivan
County at the birth of what would become known as the Woodstock Nation.
For many, it was a defining cultural moment. For others, it seems, it
was a fleeting flirtation with idealism that extinguished itself with age.
Woodstock was not only a place and event, it was and remains a state
of mind. You didn't have to be there to "be there."
Despite all the romanticism that has developed over the years
surrounding the three-day miracle on Yasgur's farm, there were some
harsh realities, and the report card on the Woodstock generation - in
general - is not very good.
The festival was never billed as a gathering of the tribes, a
communal experiment in peace, love and understanding. It was put
together as a vehicle for its organizers to raise money to build a
recording studio in Woodstock, about 40 miles from the concert site.
It was an exercise in building venture capital, not the creation of a
temporary hippie heaven.
Of course, during those three very incredible days, there was a
certain something that occurred to give some hope of a better day ahead.
There was magic at the site as the crowd made do, shared, took care
of itself and did so without the slightest hint of violence or fear.
There was a tuning-in to the universal hum of Mother Earth and the
goodness in the world as those in attendance learned to share without
regard for color, race or creed. There was a shedding of tradition
and convention. The relevance of Woodstock was it brought together
the young people of the day, focused them on working together - even
in terms of civil disobedience, if necessary - to relieve the world
of war, anger and strife.
It all gave hope for a generation going forward together in the name
of harmony instead of the rocky road we were traveling.
For some, the experience transcended youthful idealism, and the
principles of fairness, openness and peace became part of their
not-so-mainstream lives. It was so much more than smoking dope and
free love. And we were better off for that.
Unfortunately, for many, the lessons did not stick. As Peter Fonda
said at the tail end of "Easy Rider," the counter-culture epic movie,
"We blew it." Well, at least some of the citizens of the Woodstock Nation did.
The 1960s counterculture was based on a wariness of those in
positions of authority. The Joint Chiefs of Staff had forced the
president to ratchet up a very unpopular war. There was social unrest
in the streets. Women were struggling for equal rights and
recognition. And the environment, which had for so long taken care of
itself, was starting to show its age.
There was great courage among our young people of that time as they
gathered together in singular voice to reject the tired values of an
uptight generation and live with, at the very least, tolerance and acceptance.
What happened to some of the children of Aquarius, however, is they
became the next withered generation.
They sold out, trading peace and love for pieces of silver. Thus, the
re-election of Richard Nixon, eight years of Ronald Reagan and eight
years of George Bush, no progress in the area of health care, the
"don't ask, don't tell" military policy and little new in the arena
of social equity.
The idealism of that age is still carried by some, but not enough, as
we have seen many of the once freedom-loving hippies of yesteryear
turn into the fat cats of today. They were what we called the plastic
people, the "weekend hippies" who adopted the "if it feels good, do
it," philosophy but didn't really understand that real social and
political change would be hard work, and it all slipped between their fingers.
How many of those who danced in the rain and mud would do so today?
Contact Local News Editor Ed Kociela at firstname.lastname@example.org or
From free love to narcissism
by Clive Hamilton
14 August 2009
The fortieth anniversary of Woodstock is a time to reflect on the
awesome power of the market. Its ability to colonise, corrupt and
suck the life out of all that is good and noble and inspirational is unbounded.
The story of the market's total victory can be told by comparing the
original Woodstock festival in 1969 with "Woodstock 99", an attempted
reprise of the famous love-fest where the ideals of youth rebellion
and the counter-culture reached their apotheosis.
The original Woodstock festival was imbued with a sense of harmony
and tolerance and was everywhere seen as a "victory of peace and
love". When the number of young people turning up exceeded
expectations, the organisers threw open the gates to make it a free concert.
The only reporter to attend the entire event, Barnard Collier of The
New York Times, had to resist his editors' demands to put a negative
spin on the festival: they wanted "a social catastrophe in the
making", he later said. He wrote instead of the "fascinating
cooperation, caring and politeness among so many people" and of an
"amazing and beautiful accident".
Thirty years later Woodstock 99 was an unapologetically corporate
venture, with sponsors, vendor malls and ATMs. It was widely
criticised for gouging patrons with "grossly overpriced water, beer,
and food". Ticket holders were frisked on the way in to ensure they
carried no contraband bottles of water.
The concert had an impregnable perimeter fence, and 500 private
security guards were employed to keep out those who had not paid. But
security inside the enclosure was inadequate, and the concert was
marred by arson, looting, violence and several allegations of r-pe.
In sharp contrast with the harmony, peace and love of Woodstock 69,
Woodstock 99 was noted for its exploitation, fights and "palpable
mood of anger".
So what happened? How did the baby boomers whose rebellion shook the
foundations of conservatism in the sixties and seventies end up
supervising the most materialistic, egocentric and decadent societies
the world has ever seen?
It wasn't all bad, of course. The victories of the social movements
of the sixties and seventies were necessary and inevitable. The
sexual revolution blew away strictures that caused so much misery
the shame of pre-marital s-x, imprisonment in unhappy marriages and
the neuroses that stood in the way of s-xual pleasure.
The demand was to replace a society of oppressive rules and
conventions with a society of autonomous individuals committed to the
welfare of all and discriminating against none. For the first time we
would be free to control our own destinies.
Yet today, despite the advances, we have never experienced more
pressure to define ourselves in accord with images created by others.
We wanted to be free, but ended up making a gilded cage in which to
live. The door is open, but we are too afraid to exit. For decades
psychologists have collected data on a personality trait called the
"locus of control", a measure of the extent to which we believe we
control our own lives rather than being subject to outside forces.
The research shows that since the 1960s young people in the West have
become more inclined to believe external forces control their lives.
Remarkably, declining scores on locus of control tests are greater
among young women, despite the opportunities for women delivered by
feminism. Perhaps we should expect no more of an era in which for
many the desirable life is the one lived out of control binge
drinking, indiscriminate s-x, and capitulation to every desire.
Equality came to mean freeing girls to behave as badly as boys and
created a new gender "girls with balls" as one writer put it
where once we imagined perhaps something closer to boys with ovaries.
The objectives were noble, but the demand for individual rights in
the sixties and seventies released a self-centredness that has grown
into full-blown narcissism. In the fifties only 12 per cent of US
teenagers agreed with the statement "I am an important person"; by
the late 1980s, 80 per cent described themselves this way.
In our pursuit of tolerant pluralism we created a society of radical
individualism, a phenomenon dubbed "boomeritis" by author Ken Wilber.
Appeals to the principles of equality and freedom often allowed
egocentric demands to flourish. Slogans such as "Let it all hang out"
and "Do your own thing" were soon interpreted as "No one can tell me
what to do".
Self-worth became self-worship.
The marketing language used today mirrors this development precisely.
Narcissistic interpretations of liberation are the bread and butter
of modern advertising. Consider these tag lines from magazine ads:
"Just do it."
"Go on, you deserve it."
"Just for you."
"If it makes you happy, it's a bargain."
"I don't care what it is, I want it."
It is now apparent that the radical demands of the liberation
movements dovetailed perfectly with the logic of hyper-consumerism.
The self-creating individual was ideally suited to the needs of the
market, and it is now apparent that the social conservatism of the
fifties that was the source of so much oppression also held the
market in check.
It's little wonder that Gen Xers and Gen Ys take a jaundiced view of
Woodstock nostalgia. Sure they have been the beneficiaries of the
social movements of the Woodstock era, but they know that the balding
boomers, after taking time out for a bit of wistfulness, will soon
get back to fucking up the world.
Sacred Cash Cow at 40
AUGUST 17, 2009
By NANCY DEWOLF SMITH
By the time the first Woodstock concert ended in the summer of 1969,
it was obvious that the weekend of Aug. 15 would not soon be
forgotten. Even so, the geyser of commentary on this 40th anniversary
is remarkable. Most cultural phenomena look slightly ridiculous
through the prism of time, and laughs at Woodstock's expense are long
overdue. Not yet, alas, not yet. Like much else being said about the
event, "Woodstock: Then and Now" (Monday from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. ET on
the History Channel) treats its subject as a major turning point in
the history of mankind. With a reverence bordering on the religious,
it even gives Woodstock credit for the presidency of Barack Obama.
Fortunately, this particular spasm of relevance isn't laid on us
until the end of the film, leaving lots of time for ordinary
enjoyment by the nostalgic, the curious andit must be saidthe
increasingly forgetful. So it is not boring when director Barbara
Kopple summons up a familiar cast of characters, some in archival
film only, to recycle the familiar storyabout how mop-headed
organizer Michael Lang met pot-friendly Capitol Records executive
Artie Kornfeld, and the two then found a Wall Street Journal ad
placed by John Roberts and Joel Rosenman soliciting investment proposals.
Whether any genuinely new tidbits crop up here, I could not say, but
some have eternal appeal. There are the photographs of the town
council meeting of Wallkill, N.Y., the original venue for the
concert, the men dark-suited and necktied like a gaggle of John
Erlichman clones. Mr. Roberts recalls how these citizens tormented
the hippified Michael Lang, with "catcalls and hoots" and comments
like: "Is that Mr. Lang or Mrs. Lang?" Ah, for the good old days.
Although few ended up paying once crowds swarmed the fences, one guy
shows us a framed copy of the advance ticket he bought for $8. Not a
fortune, especially since it seems clear, though never said here,
that the majority of the people who converged on the site were
middle-class kids, overwhelmingly white, for whom gate-crashing en
masse constituted a thrilling revolutionary act. Did 350,000 attend
or half a million? It hardly matters. A band member of Sweetwater who
arrived late by helicopter recalls peering at the colorful acres of
fields below and asking the local pilot what kind of crops were
growing. "Them's all people," came the reply.
Stories about rockers with performance anxiety always bear retelling.
Yet one of the most satisfying here is about someone who may be
kicking herself today for another reason: Joni Mitchell wrote a
lovely song about Woodstock; but she wasn't there, because her
managers were afraid she'd be unable to get out in time for an
important booking on . . . the Dick Cavett show. Other fleeting
pleasures include the sight of a middle-aged Country Joe (and the
Fish) McDonald in short hair and a tie. Or a network reporter, still
tragically unhip after all these years, reminiscing fondly about his
time covering "the kids" and their concerts.
Ours being the Age of Hagiographyat least where the '60s are
concernednobody in this film has a bad word to say about the kids or
the concert. Any insults aim only at the media jerks and other liars
who tried to hide the fact that Woodstock was a beautiful experience
of humanity united in peace and love.
Enough of this sort of thing, and you form a new appreciation of the
saying that love hurts.
"I came of age at Woodstock," one former attendee recalls during a
string of rhapsodic summings up of the great meaning of being there.
It was so exciting to be part of "one big American ball of hope,"
says anothereverything leading up to the soaring observation that
Woodstock gave us Barack Obama. In such ways has the counterculture
that once celebrated breaking rules become a repository of solemn
orthodoxy as rigid as the code of those stiffs at the Wallkill town
meetings. Thus has the concert that celebrated free love and cast off
vulgar old capitalism with free food and free music become the
ultimate cash cow that keeps on giving.
Given the myth-making machinery on display here, it is refreshing to
note a few hints of reality from people young enough to have
grandparents who were at Woodstock. Students at the New York "School
of Rock" seem eager to learn about the famous concert. But they
aren't fools, either, judging by a young woman who says her
performances are inspired by Janis Joplin and then sagely adds: "I
hope that I'm channeling some part of her ... [but] hopefully not the
alcoholic, heroin-addicted part of her."
Out of the mouths of babes, free to see and speak the truth. A saving
grace in this sometimes dispiriting era of Woodstock puffery.
Beyond the romance of Woodstock
August 13, 2009
Forty years ago, the Woodstock festival defined youthful idealism, or
so thought its sometimes spaced-out, frolicking concertgoers. A few
days of peace, love and music hey, what else would it take to
change the world?
Time unmasks the uncomfortable realities of life's most narcissistic
moments. Woodstock rightly remains a legendary musical event, but
through clearer eyes, it also should be remembered in less fawning
light than pop culture treats it.
The nearly half million people who gathered on that New York dairy
farm in August 1969 wanted to be part of something, anything, that
confronted social conventions in a nation struggling with a bloody
war, racial tensions and stirring feminism. In retrospect, though,
Woodstock wasn't just a protest venue, but a poorly planned concert
that has been elevated to mythic proportions by its problems as much
as the music. If we fail to remember this, we risk over-romanticizing
the event, judging it either too kindly or too harshly.
The reality is that Woodstock originally envisioned as a fundraiser
to build a recording studio was neither the nirvana claimed by its
fans nor the apocalypse claimed by its detractors. The Woodstock
phenomenon began as a business venture, became an idealistic
storyline that marked the culmination of 1960s culture, and became a
business venture again.
That's particularly evident this year as the anniversary has become a
multimillion dollar cross between a high school reunion and a
marketing orgy that gives a few aging boomers the opportunity to pull
out old bellbottoms and halter tops for a swagger down memory lane.
At least eight new books, a new TV documentary, a new DVD of the old
documentary, and director Ang Lee's rock 'n' roll comedy Taking
Woodstock commemorate the concert.
For individuals, the story ended in different and unexpected ways.
Many took the Woodstock culture into their adult lives as civic
leaders, environmentalists, lawyers, corporate giants an ironic
counter to the culture many professed to disdain in their youth.
Others, however, tragically became lost souls whose youthful naivety
ended in destructive brews of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll as did
many of the acts they cheered. Culturally, the free love vibe gave
way years later to the AIDS crisis, and the
drugs-without-consequences era helped to create a global drug war and
led to crippling drug addictions.
No matter how strong the allure of the Woodstock mythology, it's hard
to ignore those realities both good and bad of the Woodstock story.
[See URL for numerous embedded links.]
Woodstock, Celebrating 40 Years Of …
by Jules Crittenden
August 14, 2009
… flaming hypocrisy from the back-to-nature crowd, which trashed a
meadow, disturbed the bucolic peace with electronic noise, disrupted
dairy operations, narrowly avoided a public health disaster,
contributed to the destruction of untold thousands upon thousands of
lives, and never looked back … except in self-congratulation!
CBS celebrates Woodstock's 40th anniversary with what almost sounds
like a pot-addled ramble about the fact that Woodstock wasn't
actually in Woodstock. Voice of America mulls the legacy, scrabbles
about for some depth, doesn't find much.
"It was an inspiration I think for people to get back to the land,
return to the 'Garden [of Eden],' change the world, leave the
constraints of urban life and do other things," (Woodstock attendee
Vara Neverow) said.
VOA also dredges up this vintage quote from dairy farmer Clarence Townsend:
"It's a disgraceful mess!" he said. "My fields are all cut up. Our
second cutting of hay is going. [As for] my cows, the milk truck
didn't get here, so the milk had to be thrown out."
This uninformative US News & World Report blog post on the influence
of Woodstock suggests it popularized rock music. I thought the
Beatles and Elvis did that, but whatever. I recall as a boy at the
time being heavily influenced by photos of nude women cavorting in a
muddy pond. Being a smelly hippy looked like fun. I'd say a lot of
our society got sucked in by that, so there's your legacy. Hedonism
wrapped in misguided self-righteousness and hypocritical idealism.
Living like there's no tomorrow while pretending you're making the
future a better place. Hey, it was fun while it lasted. Even the dog
end of it, which I caught. Nothing like it. Plenty of it out there
still if you haven't had enough yet.
Meanwhile, the Boston Herald remarks with insufficient reverence:
Wasn't Woodstock supposed to kill our capitalist society with flower
power and LSD?
Well, capitalism is striking back with enough 40th anniversary
Woodstock swag to fill Wavy Gravy's rainbow school bus.
The Boston Globe's Steve Kurkjian recalls covering it. Steve's a nice
guy but the comments say more than the article:
2. Who the h*ll cares about Woodstock….how about we reflect on the
109 American servicemen who lost their lives in Viet Nam during that
3 day period 40 years ago !!!!!
3. All i remember is the mud and the rain. And Gracie Slick and
Ritchie Havens, and the Who and the amazing trumpet player from Sly
and the Family Stone. God what a great concert. And a strange and
5. doing drugs, dodging the war, getting stoned and listening to
crappy music. yep…..the 60s.
……enter Baby Boomer "how would you know, you werent there" replies on
how this "festival" changed the course of human events. Spare me.
6. I am a 32 year old guy who would like to thank all the ne'er do
wells and losers who were at the forefront of ruining this great
country. Nothing like celebrating doing drugs and listening to music
for three days straight. Far out. Don't eat the brown acid.
7. Mike - people like you were and are ruining our country…
12. the sad thing……these are the clowns ruining the country…….still
living in the past….
13. lets talk about this in a civl way people this was a wondeful
event that changed the world peace and love peace and love….
Surber, Mustang owner, has a Gran Torino moment. "Get off my lawn."
Riehl revels in the bogus hippy spirituality of it all.
Blue Crab wonders at the mystery of it all: How did a lot of dopes on
dope in a muddy field turn into a watershed moment in American history?
Pundette dives deeper into the shallowness.
Here's CBC pop culturist Greig Dymond, decrying the "generational
smugness" and general hippy-dippiness.
The Dissident Frogman reflects on growing up dissident in post-hippy France:
being young in 80s' France sucked way beyond proportions …
But hey, I suppose that's in part what gave me a certain edge when it
comes to swallowing Collectivist horseshit …