Never really understood what the big deal was about Woodstock. To this day I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why Woodstock – a poorly-organized outdoors concert attended by drug-addled muddy naked people exposing themselves to all sorts of social diseases – is considered by some as some kind of “defining moment” for an entire generation . . . unless, of course, you were (or wanted to be) one of the drug-addled muddy naked ones.
Luckily I’m not alone, so I’ll get by with a little help from my friends:
Jules slices and dices it:
Hedonism wrapped in misguided self-righteousness and hypocritical idealism.
Unfortunately, the so-called Woodstock generation morphed from seeing themselves as the children of God, to the children for whom God does not exist. And they really never have accounted for that misguided calamity.
Forty years later, free love is mainstream and the abortion industry that supports it and feeds on it is painted as a public servant empowering individual autonomy and liberty rather than the agent of greed and death that it is.
Blue Crab and I are on the same wavelength, and he links to the funniest [put down your drink right now] illustrated translation (captioned for the clearheaded) of Joe Cocker’s rendition of “I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.”
