Word: pots
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Says Economist Bullock: "It simply doesn't make good sense economically to give up hustling pot in order to concentrate on a car-wash or service-station job. As long as the rewards of welfare dependency or hustling exceed the income from a job, the ghetto resident is merely obeying the sacrosanct American principle of maximizing his economic gains. This fact, of course, deeply offends those middle-class Americans who are vigorously pursuing these same goals...
...hang out, sullen and sledge-fisted, at places like "The Lunch Pail," a tawdry dive on Chicago's seamy North Side; many become winos, staggering along the hallways in search of a corner to crumple up in. There are 30,000 Appalachians in the North Side area, a melting pot of penury composed of 10,000 Indians, 5,000 Puerto Ricans and Mexicans, and a smattering of Eskimos and Cuban refugees...
Harlech seemingly suffers no embarrassment over his flippie brood. When Jane and her husband were picked up, though not charged, in the company of a pot-stocked party of moor campers, police found their infant son Saffron tucked away in a pile of hay. Jane's explanation: "It was very warm in the hay." Harlech stuck by her. "Jane knows what she's doing," he told reporters. "She's no child." And besides, Harlech himself is not always the model of upper-crust orthodoxy. He recently snowed up at Harvard for an advisory committee meeting...
This musical is a cross between a Dionysian revel and an old-fashioned revival meeting. The religion that Hair preaches, and often screeches, is flower power, pot and protest. Its music is pop-rock, and its dialogue is mostly graffiti. Hair is lavish in dispraise of all things American, except presumably liberty. The play itself borders on license by presenting a scene in which half a dozen members of the cast, male and female, face the audience in the nude. This tableau is such a dimly lit still life that it will leave most playgoers open-mouthed with yawns...
...pot safer than alcohol? You know it! Say, can you imagine Judgment Day, when all us swingers are standing there with our beads and beer and grass? Account for something? That went out years ago. We're safe; we'll make it because there's no conscience in a "brave new world...