I won't cede my fuckin' hippy bona fides to frickin' nobody.
No, I wasn't stoned on Ginsberg and thrustin' like Cassidy at it's conception... I missed the acid tests by a couple of years, sure.
But I was sent home from High School for wearin' my homemade "Four Dead In Ohio" T-shirt and wore it again two weeks later with a bitchin' letter from the ACLU in the back pocket of my jeans. I camped outside the Gates of The Federal Medical Prison here in town in support of the Danbury 10 (a group of draft resisters who were fasting to protest the Viet War) with a contingent of VietVets against the war whom I'd hooked up with at a anti-war rally sponsored by the Unitarian Church - a member of which I'd met while canvassing for George McGovern - walking my skinny 150 lb. ass all over this mfin' burg, wearing my stars and striped sneaks, shoulder-length freak flag flying cause I was too stupid to realize that that good, honest and earnest man was never gonna beat the Dick. My ole lady lived on a sheep ranch and made me a sheepskin manpurse I carried my my campaign shit in...