Forty years and a week ago Woodstock happened. I really don't give a shit about it because I was neither born, nor do I give a crap about those double standard hypocrites that took part of Woodstock who are not the same ones who are hard core republicans dictating laws to limit the rights and ability of their children that they went out into this field to enjoy.
Add into that the whole Woodstock 2 really took a dump on the original meaning of the festival. It's like Burning man after it became cool. No way was I going to go to that. So consider me jaded to this who musical arts festival of mythic proportions. Besides that, the few who still remain loyal to the views and lifestyle upheld during Woodstock are ones I really don't want to associate with.
Take Grandpa Woodstock here.
He is clearly someone you do not want to talk to or else you'll be faced with some really incoherent story about the time he lost a cheeto in his hair. While it's a compelling two hour story, it's one that I have no use in hearing a third or fourth time.
And while everyone who wasn't there remembered Woodstock and made some big shit out of it's 40 year birthday last Tuesday, I'm sure Grandpa Woodstock didn't even remember the actual event. I mean, isn't that the real way you tell that you were there?
But this does lead to more questions about the culture behind all this. Is there any thing to be proud of if you're a dirty, smelly hippie like this. You may be happy, but it's because you're buying cutiousness at three dollars a hit. It's not fullfilling and it'll run out eventually. You really don't want to be left holding the bag if a cop shows up, least you'll really be enjoying the time in jail. But how thick does their devotion run for this lifestyle?
I mean, look at that. Bottled water? What are you? Some wasteful capitalist pig? Yes it's a given that he's old and probably needed to drink a lot of water or he'll pass out. I mean, it's pretty clear he's not eating much. I certainly don't want Grandpa Woodstock to die, but he's not doing the Earth any favors by drinking and supporting the plastic bottle companies.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they found that bottle in the trash and refilled it from the tap. But perhaps I shouldn't focus on the bottle water so much as I failed to realize that the woman has a fucking beard! Holy fuck, that's some facial hair she has going on there. I wonder if that tickles when they kiss each other. Who the hell lets that happen to them? I'm sure she's not into grooming herself, but to allow such facial hair to grow? Now that's just being lazy.
It goes to show you that even the most hardcore of you who happen to be all hippie style or going for the glory in saving planet Earth by not putting toxins in your system still suffer the grim reality that you really can't take that too far before you hit a brick wall.
While I say MORE POWER TO YOU, to Grandpa Woodstock, I can't help but take his life as an example as to why I will never, ever use LSD.