continued…

In contrast, most of the clowns (hippies) that imagined themselves to be musicians in the sixties had not only little understanding of what they were doing, they openly admitted it. They were blatantly proud of he fact that they had no clue at all what they were doing or why they were doing it. I suppose you can validly make this claim if your “art” consists of smashing rocks and coconut shells together while you are stoned out of your mind. Unfortunately, the hippies couldn’t even make this claim because in order to “perform” their “art” they required technological devices. Thus, we wind up with a thoroughly sick and twisted menagerie of environmentally conscious (but unwashed), mind/consciousness expanding (but intentionally drugged out of their minds), love and peace nitwits (that supported North Vietnam as a more morally advanced society than America) that depended upon the technological genius of Thomas Edison, Jim Marshall and Leo Fender in order to sing and sell their pointless little songs about the evils of Big Business Capitalism and the glory of Free Love Collective Farming.

Perhaps the most ironic thing, though, about the hippies is what happened to them if they managed to live through the sixties. Most of them got jobs, turned thirty (they must not trust themselves anymore, would you if you had been a hippie?), donned business suits and bought a house and a car or two. But this is not yet the ironic part. That is reserved for the fact that most of them still believe in the “ideals” of the sixties. But the poor fools somehow lost their “courage”, just gave up on their cherished “ideals” and “dropped” back into the society that they so vehemently opposed. So, now they are productive, responsible, property owning free market participators but they don’t even know that these things are virtues. How do these poor slobs live with themselves? Perhaps by seeing that the sixties are still alive and well in American Culture and that they were the ones that brought this sickness about.

Sometimes people call me a hippie as an insult. The only ground they have for this assessment is the length of my hair. If this person is of no concern to me, I let it go because I am pleased that even if they are wrong about me, they are at least correct in identifying “hippie” as a derogatory term. If this person is someone I care about at all I will take the time to explain that I am not a hippie, nor do I have any intention of becoming one. If they are extremely focused on my hair and will not buy an aesthetic argument, I tell them my hair is a reference to “long hair” music: i.e. Beethoven, Mozart, Liszt, Paganini, etc.

Sometimes people call me a hippie as if it is a compliment. It’s not just the hair, it is more a reference to the rebellious, counter-culture hero aspect that some people still ascribe to hippies. A more baffling case of psychotic delusion would be hard to imagine.

Just to set the record straight, I am going to sum up.

Hippies were dirty (as in unwashed), lazy, drugged out, irrational, communist idiots. I, on the other hand, am a clean, ambitious, sober, rational, capitalistic intelligent human being.

Hopefully, in the future there will be no more confusion on this issue.