Woodstock: Giving America the Finger

While I donned a white dress shirt and tie in August 1969 and rode with my parents the thirty miles to Penn State’s main campus and put in a forty-hour week in Accounting Administration and then 20-hours-per week in Accounting Studies as a part-time accounting assistant and full-time English major, thousands of young people in my age bracket were brazenly showing the rest of the world that my generation consisted largely of sociopaths who didn’t care that they were naked and fornicating and getting stoned in public.

And we wondered why they kept sending our asses to Vietnam.