If I hear one more "tribute" to Woodstock I am going to scream. The sixties are like a zombie from a horror movie who refuses to die. Wandering around the countryside, ready to show up at every fortieth anniversary of this or that. Now that the baby boomers are firmly ensconced in the upper echelons of the media, it seems we are doomed to relive their youth over and over and over. I am sure it was great, but it is over. OVER.
Frankly, it seemed like kind of a drag. Mud, no food, bad drugs and bands who didn't take the time to tune their instruments. And don't get me started about the sound system. I can't wait until December when we can relive Altamont. That'll be fun.
Why do these people think everyone shares an interest in their past. Isn't it kind of like watching someone's 10,000 vacation pictures, or home movies.
There is just so much that has happened in the intervening years that seem more interesting than a bunch of self-indulgent, privileged, white people trying to relive their ever-fading youth.
What is going on now is much more important. So let's find some silver bullets, sharpen up the stakes and lets put this beast to death.