Andrew Ross' Weather Report

OUTSIDE THE LAMINATED dreamworlds of Madison Avenue and suburban Christianity, where do you go to find shiny happy people? Traditionally, white America has looked to its youth cohorts for its’ most dependable images of compulsory happiness, with one or two anonymous faces of color rounding out the picture. This is odd, since many of us experience youth as the unhappiest period of our lives. America’s great social experiment, arguably, has not been democracy but the pursuit of happiness—that distinctively modern idea, ordained by the Fathers as an inalienable right and wielded ever since like some vibrating megadildo, available at the right price, though with no guaranteed long-term effects. Yet ever since youth began to vibrate on their own, within and around music of their own making, efforts at social control of the youthful body’s attachment to sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll have been

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