Where are the hippies?

Is the hippie dead? Are there not dirtied collectives sprawling around in caves burning their fingertips on crack pipes, smoking dead deer baby brain stems, rubbing blush on their temples in America? Is that gone?

What happened?

The word-of-mouth gatherings are replaced by Internet threads and forum fandom. Kids today are too materialistic to dress homeless. Why look like a pirate when you can rock designer or at least rock hand-me-downs as if they are designer?

Music’s in the same boat. How many protest songs can you, sacred reader, list with all 10 fingers? How many songs with five or six suites have come out in the last five years?

Death Grips comes close. It’s transformative music protesting social norms in a expressionist, aggro-chameleon-like manner, and it’s timely. Unfortunately, Death Grips is an exception to the rule.

It’s not the drugs, is it? Technology certainly bears a part of the blame. People are connected to each other in ways that paradoxically insulate them from the world. Why not forget the world and get high to Drake in your favorite snuggie? Save a buck, too, listen on Spotify. There are people today who live like they’re back in the womb, safe and warm. The idea of the hippie is to go forth and make one’s mark on the world. That idea somewhat exists today. The entrepreneur-artist-designer-musician-singer-rapper-comedian-philanthropist archetype has the same dual potential for triumph and hot air. Is it as endearing? Eh.

Wossen is a senior majoring in journalism.

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