I do not know even where to start with these two.

As you are probably well aware this marks the fortieth anniversary of the Woodstock music festival. Half a million petulant children, schedules clear of any worthwhile engagements, stormed a quiet, upstate New York farm, senses of entitlement expanding wildly until the sun was concealed from view, bringing a storm. Before the four days were through, this rabble found themselves in such a helpless, degraded (even for them) state that the National Guard was brought in to perform much the same tasks as are required in the aftermath of a great natural disaster. All this from just four days of fools in a field.

Now, most healthy generations would look upon this catastrophe analyzing what went wrong and vowing to never let it happen again. Unfortunately this generation is anything but healthy. No, they have since looked upon that festival as a cornerstone for their “culture”. If a culture is based upon taking drugs and fornicating in a field I suppose we should not be shocked at its resulting divorce rate, proliferate substance abuse and general squandering of all advantages lavished upon it while living at the height of Western civilization. An entire generation of narcissists, that one.

So, dear reader, while you run screaming from yet another interview with a recently exhumed Grace Slick, remember that this is only the fortieth anniversary. The fiftieth will make even the most positive thinking person wish for a quick death. God save us all.