I ain’t no damn dirty hippie. I’m a rascally little rat, and I like to stay clean and pretty and carry myself with the sort of black-haired distinction that leaves folks wondering “Who does he think he is?” But God strike me dead if I don’t appreciate the hippies’ many contributions to the kaleidoscope of American society. They’re very good at extracting juice from things, for example. And drugs. I also like tie-dyed tee shirts. The idea of them, that is. I don’t own any. The