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Hippy

Belt Fed

SAINT
What is ya'lls definition of one, mine is one that usually don't bathe, one that is a greeny and peace loving all the time. there are other things. The reason is people label one by the way they look. i get called a hippy by people that don't know me and usually they get set straight by the ones who do know me.

I take a bath most every night, lol cannot stand for my hair to be greasy and dirty even though it is down to my butt crack. I am not a peace loving SOB, i think the world is going to hell and it will take violence from the people to get it back. the politicians ain't gonna do jack crap.

I drive a loud deleted diesel with a fueling box that i can make black smoke so thick you can't see, so not a greeny. i have guns. at least two of them. rode with bikers back in the 70's and i don't mean no flower power dudes. Did i mention i have at least two guns?

raced moto x when i was a teenager and dirt cars when i was in my 20's all sucked gas by the loads and supposedly polluted the air. was even sponsored by a liquor store for a couple years

Far as i know from the late 60's and 70', hippies did not like any of those things. now i will say i did enjoy the hippy chicks back then. you know, free love and all. 😁 and no i did not have a harem like someone here. besides my wife got rid of all my pics like that when we married. she did ask first, what was i gonna say. lol

So does long hair automatically make me a hippy.? If so then Far Out Man.
 
I'd much rather have a house load of "traditional" hippies living next door to me versus the fat, disgusting, blue haired, nose ring wearing, (did I mention fat?) alphabet mafia, cowpig that lives next door to me.

Gooooo Portland! Home of the man bun wearing, Subaru driving, gender confused fellows and their cowpig women!
 
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Am I driving okay man?

I think we're parked.

This is probably my favorite scene of all of their movies. When I was in high school, me and my buddies would do a ditch day once a year and rent (on VHS) all of the Cheech & Chong movies (minus the Corsican Brothers) along with Faces of Death, and I spit on your grave. We'd watch them back to back and grill hotdogs and burgers all day long. My older brother would get us a pony keg with the rules being none of us ratted on him nor did we leave my parent's house drunk. The penalty for violators was death. My older brother was a pretty vicious SOB so we believed him and observed his few, but very reasonable rules.

Damn I miss the good ol days......
 
I'd much rather have a house load of "traditional" hippies living next door to me versus the fat, disgusting, blue haired, nose ring wearing, (did I mention fat?) alphabet mafia, cowpig that lives next door to me.

Gooooo Portland! Home of the man bun wearing, Subaru driving, gender confused fellows and their cowpig women!
Just the natural progression of generations from Hippie to Karen.
 
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