I wanna say hello to all the ex-hippies tonight. I've never been a hippie myself but I'm an honorary hippie.

People today are still living off the table scraps of the sixties. They are still being passed around - the music and the ideas.

When the hippie era ended and the hangover began, as idealism gives way to disillusionment, the hair of the marchers and street-dancers kept getting longer, and soon it began to tangle. Free love deteriorated into loveless promiscuity, our great electric Kool-Aid acid test churned out an entire generation of burnt-out old relics, and the hair, once a symbol of freedom, became symbolic of the new face of prison, a lawlessness which taken to its logical extreme would imprison all of society as our growing criminal element took to the streets.

I hate the word 'hippy'. I hate a lot of people, and hippies don't do that!

There's a limit to my patience with anything that smacks of metaphysics. I squirm at the mention of "mind expansion" or "warm healing energy." I don't like drum circles, public nudity or strangers touching my feet.

A hippie is someone who looks like Tarzan, walks like Jane and smells like Cheetah.