Heah Me Talkin' To Ya

The short-haired hippie girlw as holding forth this afternoon. Don't ask about what because I try to pay as little attentiont o her as possible. Still, within the close confines of the IBB it is veritably impossible not hear her braying. It's not so much that what she says is drivel, which is bad enough, nor is it that she says it so volubly, though that's equally annoying. It's that she clearly doesn't listen to what someone else is saying to her. It's painful to have to sit in, even in a second-hand way, on these obviously one-sided diatribes.

I find it rather ironic that so many of these hippies are on food stamps, yet they have sufficient cash on them to buy expensive coffees and packs of cigarettes. Which is another thing. So many of them are into (or so they claim) veganism, animal rights, organic-fair-traded-this-and-that, hemp clothing and dousing themselves with patchouli (which ranks right up there with Egyptian Goddess in terms of scents I never wish to smell again), yet they're lighting up and inhaling a lung-full of toxic tobacco. Vegans who smoke ... that seems wrong to me.

There are some good hippies out there. G. is very sweet and very responsible. J. and his brother N. were upstanding guys. These few are the antithesis of the hustlers, moochers and know-it-alls one usually encounters.