It's getting cliche, I know, but every time I think I've finally peeled back the onion of this surreal period of history to its core, another hideous layer of things I simply couldn't believe existed rips off its mask and leers at me from behind the shadows. The latest of these surreal bogeymen that appear from underneath the bed when you least expect them is the visage of grinning, long haired, bearded hippies from that period of shame we now call the Vietnam war.
For quite some time we've been subjected to the endless repetition of the mantra "Iraq is not Vietnam". For example - as one might hear on any well researched right wing blog - one is a country in the desert and the other is a country much like Hawaii only with really nasty people who we should have all wiped out in a manly surge of military might were it not for - you guessed it - the wild eyed, ragged beard, unkempt and certainly foul smelling hippies.
Who knew that flower power could reach across the decades with such raw power as to mess up yet another war we could have won - damn you! - if we hadn't had our will sapped by their willy hippy ways.
And quite a mythos has been built up around these hippies of yesteryear. The unkempt ones apparently are single handedly responsible for splitting the Democratic party and establishing a career of shameful loses in the political arena. Somehow the fact that Richard M. Nixon was the guy who ran on a platform of bugging out of Vietnam seems to have lost in the sands of time. Somehow the entire experience of Vietnam has been reduced to a bunch of hippies marching around central park, spitting on passing wheel chair bound vets while simultaneously placing daisies into the rifle barrels of the national guards.
Wait a minute. Damn LSD flashbacks! That was Kent state! Another Democratic fiasco! Or not. Can't remember any more. It's all just colors and lava lamps since Ned Lamont won. The 'shrooms are making things hard to sequence into serial thought so I can type it with my fingers, man. It's like the whole world is swirling.
The colors! The colors!
Fuck. What's that itching! It's BUGS! BUGS! BUGS, I TELL YOU.
Quick, I need another shot of whiskey - STAT. And throw me those uppers - yea, the red ones. I want to mix it with the bunch of other pills I got at the Lamont victory party. Yea, the one where we we planned the whole fascist takeover of the United States.
First Connecticut and then Chicago. Remember the Kent State 20 - er, 4. Or whatever dude. Just fuckin' get those Republicans out of office because - like - we need to weaken America with our Peace Symbol/Swastika so that our Islamofascist brothers can come and cover our women with burkas and make all the men grow really shaggy beards that they can't trim.
Yea, man. It'll be sooooooooooooo coool when the revolution comes around.
Soooooooooooooo cooooooooooooooooooooool.
Just you all wait, you short haired corporatist swine. Just you all wait.
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