Growing old can be a surprising and dismaying affair at times. Like this evening, when I thought I might sit in, for fun and old times, on the TV transmission of the Woodstock film. Those of you who are a little older than my son [born in Woodstock year, 1969] might recall that it was a gigantic music festival in the state of New York, back in the days when the target of the USA's regular wars happened to be Vietnam.
After twenty minutes, the video bored me to shit, and indeed irritated me immensely. It sounded as hollow, today, as an empty packet of Pretzels at the Bush ranch in Texas. The truth of the matter is that nobody, any longer, is inclined to believe young Americans when they cry out about peace and love to the strains of Joan Baez. They've had high time, since Vietnam, to become dynamically intelligent... and they didn't make the necessary effort. I don't know why, and I don't really care. But please don't ever talk to me about "peace and love" bullshit made in the USA.