Sheesh! Did somebody slip one (or two) of those “new” cure-all psychedelic pills into my low-sodium tomato juice??
Must have, because I’m having wild and weird hallucinations from —I don’t know— 1967? They’re full of long-haired young men shouting slogans against the draft.
I can tell they’re hallucinations because other than the hair, the protesters are dressed all alike in the most un-hip getup ever: not a tie-dye in sight, nary a scrap of paisley, and no roaches anywhere. Maybe it’s a back alley scene from the Haight-Ashbury?
Also, the slogans seem to be aimed at overthrowing the government, but they’re all in some exotic local slang that, from the accents, sounds kind of — kind of, like, maybe, Hebrew?
I know I’m delirious because I heard one of the longhairs talking English to some TV guy, and he insisted they’re gonna make the revolution so they can all be free to — what?? Study Tarot? “Say what?” I asked. “Dude, like, the Age of Aquarius is so over.” He just grunted and flipped me off.
I must really be having a bum trip, I figured . . . .
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