I used to believe that the Boomers were civilization's most self-obsessed generation, but the recent raft of reflections occasioned by the passing of John Hughes made me realize that maybe no one group of people has a monopoly on nostalgia and self-importance. Still, until Barack Obama pushes through those DEATH PANELS, we are stuck with the Boomers and their endless series of anniversaries for events that seemed earth-changing at the time but, with the distance of history, turned out to be just a bunch of people shitting in a field in upstate New York. That's right: The hippie fuckfest that was Woodstock happened forty years ago this weekend! [...]

They discovered it while at a friend's house listening to the album and passing around the gatefold jacket. First, Nick recognized the famous yellow butterfly staff in the left corner. "It belonged to this guy Herbie," Nick says. "We latched on to him that day because he was having a very bad experience. He was tripping pretty heavily and he had lost his friends. After I saw that staff I said, 'Hey that's our blanket.' Then I said, 'Hey, that's us.'"

Not only are the kids from the cover of the original Woodstock record (ask your parents) still alive forty years on, they're still together, and totally adorable.