After carrying on about Mr Groundhog for 4 days last week I feel I offer blog readers something of relative substance. Asheville is an interesting place. It's a crossroads from way back. Back to the days of The Cherokee. From where I live I can be in the midst of hippies, artisans and musicians 10 miles one way, and in the midst of camo - clad conceal n' carry moonshinin' rednecks 10 miles the other way. I like to keep a foot in both camps. Considering I dont want to end up like Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider, I'll offer some polite unsolicited advice to some of the so called hipsters I've come across rather than upset anyone sportin a 12 guage in a monster truck. Actually, I've found if you treat other people allright, other folks probably treat you cool. Moonshiners and farmers get this. People who work for a living close to the earth. I know, I used to be one. A farmer, not a moonshiner. Hipster kids should get this. It should be the cornerstone of their long hair, patchouli scented motis operandi. The love your brother thing unfortunately has taken a back seat. It's not quite yet, "love your brother and stab him in the back" but as The Rolling Stones once said: "its just a shot away".  If you're not gonna stand up for the good old USA, don't fly the flag.... If you're not gonna stand up for the original hippy ideal.. don't wear the tie - dye. Whats the original hippy ideal ? Let's see ... love your brother, (and mean it), give the other guy the benefit of the doubt, turn the other cheek, do unto others, help those who cant help themselves. Seems to me there was a long haired guy lived a long time ago who made these points really well. I forget his name. Wore sandals, has a bunch of houses all over the world with big tall spires on top. Good guy. What I call exclusionary hipsters are the worst... the so called enlightened who wouldnt help you change a flat tire because you havent seen the light. No pal, I havent seen "your" light because from where I sit you're in the dark. It is an equal opportunity awareness we share, so if some boho tells you that you aint hip cause you aint scarfed down 2000 mcg of LSD, (which is a bunch) or listened to "Ra - Ha  - Gee - Ha Whats His Name", keep walkin. I had the fortunate opportunity once upon a time to hang out with these hipsters… they kind of founded the movement and to this day work to perfect their trombone skills: