Via Blog-Bud Old Iron... a tour de force from Zombie about the synergies between hippies and the Tea Party Movement. Yep, you read that right and the words are tight. (Poet, don't know it, and all that) You really should go read what Zombie has to say, especially if you're in one of two classes: either (a) a member of the misguided "progressive" political class or (b) one of those mouth-breathing, ultra-con droolers who routinely toss the "dirty hippie" epithet around. Not to steal Zombie's thunder or anything... but more to whet your appetite... here's his close:
Big Hippie Tent
Which brings me back to the beginning. This essay was addressed to self-identified hippies — but I assume that plenty of non-hippie liberals have been eavesdropping on us. And it may very well be that you eavesdroppers may not personally think of yourselves as “hippies,” per se, but you do hold to some hippie-esque values which place you in the Big Hippie Tent. There are all sorts of “neo-hippies” who use other identifiers. And any number of preferences and habits and opinions would make you a semi-hippie, as it were. Do any of these apply to you: Are you a Deadhead? Attracted to alternative spiritualities? Avoid chain stores? Love nature? Listen to ’60s music, reggae or jam bands? Smoke pot? Go to Burning Man? Wear ethnic clothing? Like world cultures? You may not be a full-on hippie, but you’ve been influenced by hippie culture. And because of that you may feel some allegiance to what you have always assumed is hippie politics: left-leaning and “progressive.” And that allegiance, perhaps unconsciously, has prevented you from embracing, or even truly acknowledging, the anti-authoritarian vim of the Tea Party. Tempting, isn’t it? And now you no longer have to resist temptation. Let it all in: your newfound awareness that the Tea Party is the embodiment of the hippie ethos after all.
You’re home at last.
Oh. One more thing. IF you happen to be one of those mouth-breathers who invoke the "dirty hippie" meme early and often... just sit down and have a big cool glass of STFU while you read Zombie. And mebbe a joint. Please.
(The photo? Me and The Boys, c.1975)
Buck,
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for turning me on to this. Absolutely the essay of the month, or maybe year.
The best part is the extended riff on the distinction between Bums and Hobos - and the clarification that Beatniks and Hippies alike were about Individuality and Freedom, and that the politicos, who took over the whole mess in '68, were looked upon with gentle scorn by the rest of us.
Great, great stuff. It's been a ride, ain't?
Still a hobo; still here, goddammit.
I like that. I also like dreadlocks and tie-dye and the thought of "living off the grid", and I like the Tea Party.
ReplyDeleteI guess you can say "I'm Home!"
Great, great stuff. It's been a ride, ain't?
ReplyDeleteThat it has, Rob... that it HAS. I knew you'd pick up on that hobo/bum thing (and the rest of that wonderful graphic, too, eh?). I've been a sort of hobo all my life as well, and it's not for nuthin' I used to describe myself as "an itinerant technology worker" in past lives. It's a GOOD life.
Staci: I'm glad you could identify with the piece. You KNOW I did...
This was absolutely fascinating. And ever so true.
ReplyDeleteWhile I was just a titch too young to qualify as a 60s hippie, I did follow that path in college. And, like some of the Commenters, I cast my first vote for Nixon, then Carter (more out of crowd-following than enlightenment), then veered right politically toward Reagan. Now I self-identify as "leaning toward Libertarian," but I do see the need for some governmental control, especially in the defense and immigration arenas, so I'm not totally there yet.
I guess, like Staci, this is why I feel "at home" in the Tea Party.
The "Old Guy" commenter is just spot-on! Thyanks for posting this!
...I cast my first vote for Nixon, then Carter (more out of crowd-following than enlightenment), then veered right politically toward Reagan.
ReplyDeleteI did more or less the same, Moogie, except I veered off to the extreme left in '72, with a vote for McGovern. I DID vote for Nixon in '68, tho, and Carter in '76. I really believed Carter was all he said he was... I liked the Annapolis, nuclear-engineer bits especially... and was terribly disappointed. Then came Reagan and my world forever changed. But, yeah. I never made the Tea Party - Hippie connection until today; Zombie's essay was spot on, and the comments entertaining as all get-out.
I like it. I like it a lot.
ReplyDeleteI find myself down in the very bottom left hand corner in the "libertarian" section.
But, the "bums, and hobos" deal is just fabulous! I don't think I've ever read it written out. But, my Daddy used to explain that there was a difference. Hobos were "living off the fat of the land," and bums were "living off the fear of working folks." I don't know if that makes any sense, but it did to me as a kid.
I never really had any hippie in me. I was raised by a square couple, and took on most of their tendencies. Oh, I did get high heel shoes, a paisley shirt or two, and wore my hair long (yes, I did have hair)...but like Moogie, the fad had passed on by before I reached that age. I just mostly wanted to be Greg Brady, and get all the cool chicks.
Dude! I am SO WAY GLAD that you identified the threesome in that photo. I never would have guessed.
Man, they grow up fast, huh? At least two of 'em did.
Wow...horizontal stripes. Man, do I ever remember those!
Bitchin' wife-beater T, though. You had put on a pound or two though. Heh! I just saw me. The youngster on the left there...not one of your boys...all the way to the left in that photo.
Seriously! I owned that shirt, and that's my nose.
Good day!This was a really terrific subject!
ReplyDeleteI come from itlay, I was luck to approach your blog in google
Also I get a lot in your website really thank your very much i will come every day
Being a non-hippie, I did as I was told, and stopped reading.
ReplyDeleteI had to think a moment about the "dirty hippie" thing. I don't believe I use any such words.
My epithets tend to include the words "granola" and "birkenstocks".
I say dirty hippy every time I see one. Because they are dirty. And hippies. You dirty hippy.
ReplyDeleteWow, I guess I've been a closet hippie a good part of my life. Hmmm....is there such a thing as a "redneck hippie"?
ReplyDelete“ultra-con droolers who routinely toss the "dirty hippie" epithet around”
ReplyDeleteGot hypocrisy, Buck?
I’m a “unltra-con drooler” who recognizes “dirty hippies” who recognize me as a “unltra-con drooler”. It’s cool, we are who we are. For all I know they’re Crunchy Conservatives (Google it). Be proud, just take a damn bath…this month.
I find myself down in the very bottom left hand corner in the "libertarian" section.
ReplyDeleteYeah, that's kinda sorta where I am, too, Andy. I deviate in some places from strict small-L libertarianism but I'm closer to that camp than any other. As for the rest of your comment... right on (heh), as usual. Especially the hobo/bum thang.
Anon: Hello and welcome!
Being a non-hippie, I did as I was told, and stopped reading.
Where did I say "stop reading," BR? You missed a good article if ya skipped it.
I say dirty hippy every time I see one. Because they are dirty. And hippies. You dirty hippy.
That was refreshing.
Hmmm....is there such a thing as a "redneck hippie"?
There certainly is. I've known more than a few, Dale.
Got hypocrisy, Buck?
Nope, just a considerable amount of anger towards people who use the "dirty hippie" term without thinking. The key word in my statement you quoted was "routinely;" the "not thinking" bit was left unsaid... but should be understood about most people who use ad hominems and/or slurs. And I know from Crunchy-Con... I read the Weekly Standard.
As for the bath... sorry. No bath tub, no can do.
Yeah, I was going to chime in on what Dale asked. Most definitely.
ReplyDelete“but should be understood about most people who use ad hominems and/or slurs.”
ReplyDelete…such as ultra-con droolers.
Fly your freak flag, Buck, just keep your dirty hippie ass off my lawn. (Hey, I’ve only said it twice in the last year).
Fly your freak flag, Buck, just keep your dirty hippie ass off my lawn.
ReplyDeleteAre you rescinding your invite to stop in for a beer the next time I'm up in Ra-cha-cha? ;-)
Or is that some sorta metaphysical lawn you're on about?
Ditch the kids, beard and glasses, dye the hair dark brown and you could be my first husband's twin.
ReplyDeleteI actually like hippies. They're always more interesting than the suburban lawn moms and their stiff IBM husbands that I'm usually required to chat up.
I got my first understanding of hippies in Northern NM where several groups of hippies moved in and bought up sagebrush with their trust funds for their communes and gurus and such. My 4th grade teacher in Questa disappeared before the school year was over. We were told that she “ran off with a hippie,” and it was true - she was a hippie and let us do whatever in the classroom - chaos. I remember my Uncle Jack had a sign in his café that read, “If you don’t like policemen, next time you are in trouble, call a hippie.” There seemed to be a general dislike of hippies, but the most important one was how the “Spanish” hated them – not only were they gringos, but they were dirty gringos. I spent a lot of my time trying not to be a hippie (I couldn' do anything about being a gringa) so that I could fit in with the Spanish. Seriously, I worked at not having my Hispanic coworkers think of me as one of those hippies who won’t last long in the school system. But now, my painting buddies seem to think I am quite hippie-ish – probably for all their talk about going green and living naturally, I’m the one who actually does such stuff. I thought I was a farmer not a hippie. And yes, my everyday clothes are jeans and a t-shirt (I was wishing for bigger bells just the other day) – kind of grubby. I do braid my hair and go without makeup, but I don’t think of myself as a hippie. Yet, lately, I think maybe I am a bit hippie-ish. And now you spring this essay on us showing that I am a hippie. Dammit.
ReplyDeleteI keep flipping between the picture from 1975 and The Military Penningtons pic. What a difference 35 years makes. How many weeks into your leave were you while sporting the "relaxed grooming standards"? Crap kids, I have to go back on Monday. Let's hit the barber shop.
ReplyDeleteI actually like hippies. They're always more interesting...
ReplyDeleteAin't THAT the truth!?! So I look (kinda-sorta) like your ex-, eh? I don't wanna ask if that's a good or bad thing...
I thought I was a farmer not a hippie.
Heh. And after reading the essay you find there ain't much difference, eh? Interesting stuff about how the Hispanics had a severe dislike for hippies, Lou. I can see how that would be.
How many weeks into your leave were you while sporting the "relaxed grooming standards"?
That was towards the end of the ONLY 30-day leave I ever took, Anon. Exactly where towards the end I have no idea, but let's say about three weeks. And yeah, 35 years makes one whole HELLUVA lot of difference!
Buck,
ReplyDeleteJust joshing around, invitation is ALWAYS open.
“Or is that some sorta metaphysical lawn you're on about?”
The hippies LOVE my lawn, it's a hybrid -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmxcmpR1GQA
Heh. I'd be Chevy Chase in that clip. Today.
ReplyDeleteGeez, this thread goes on and on, don't it? Just a thought, naught, naught and seven-eighths.....
ReplyDeleteOne thing that's weird here is that a lot of peoples' take on hippies is based on kids they've been watching in the '90s and '10s who take on 40-year-old style as a "lifestyle choice" - which is in fact strange, given that if we had made that sort of choice then there would have been huge numbers of kids running around in raccoon coats and sayin shit like "23 Skidoo." And strumming ukuleles. And eating goldfish, and....well anyway, you get the picture.
I'm sure there were plenty of well-off kids affecting "hip" and all (the two most self-righteous hippies I ever knew as a musician were a pre-Monkees Mike Nesmith, whose mother invented White-Out, no kidding, and another guy whose mother owned Heavenly Valley ski resort,) but most of us was just po. And a whole lot of us didn't have parents at all, which put a whole different slant on things, believe me.
Like you, I think the hippie/farmer dichotomy comes closest to my experience - and anyhow, like Zombie reminds us, the whole Humorless Leftie ambiance was pretty much looked on as a shuck by the rest of us, despite their now having claimed the decades as their own.
And on that front, have you seen this one?
http://spectator.org/archives/2005/04/26/hunter-thompsons-reactionary-h
I think he's got it, and Zombie's piece is right in the pocket. All the beats and hippies I knew were, like me, pre-baby boomers, and the main thing we all agreed on was
Do What You Like, Just Leave Me The Fuck Alone
Don't sound much like a Leftie, do it?
Excellent article on HST, Rob. The author of that piece is an astute observer; thanks for that. HST was a hero of mine in the wayback, mainly because of his "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail," which was/is the definitive piece on American politics. I've mentioned that before in these pages (maybe even to you?)... and I read every installment in RS (I was a subscriber then) as it unfolded during Campaign '72. That was the high point of my career as a Plastic Hippie and Moonbat. Heady times, those... for more than one reason. But I'd never go back.
ReplyDeleteBut yeah... everything else you said, too!
Buck,
ReplyDeleteYeah, man. It's good to know you're out there, and that we both remember. I got hooked by HST with Hell's Angels, and it never quit for me.
His greatest insights on the '60s, for me, were in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, where he described what it was really like with this one:
Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . . History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened. My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . . There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . . And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . . So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
And then nailed how the wave crashed with this:
We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled the 60's. That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip. He crashed around America selling "consciousness expansion" without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously... All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped create... a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody... or at least some force - is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.
That pretty much says it, good and bad - and the "Anarchists" of today decidedly will never get it. I'm real sorry he decided to check out, if only because I'd love to hear his take on the current mess. As for me, I still wanna find out what comes next.
HST booming over the Bay Bridge on a Beezer is my all-time favorite image of him. That is a powerful piece of writing indeed.
ReplyDelete