It's a mammoth parade of J. P. Wood's complaints, heavily treading over hippies, student demonstrators, protest marches, newspaper and TV sensationalism, Senate investigating committees, college summer joyride institutes, social workers, etc., etc. The weak and very adult satire is hung on an unbelievable fantasy-parable: a New York entrepreneur (the kind of sensitive soul who hunts deer but wouldn't shoot one) finds a Siberian Mammoth but his Rhode Island neighbors can't accept the extinct giant. The two find refuge in Central Park with the curator (""People are nuts""), where a sophisticated, bratty fourth-grader and her ineffectual father soon join them. Driven by SOCIETY to hole up in the Grand Canyon, they become a summer institute. The last page has the little girl -telling the sit-in unwashed to move over and make room for the younger generation. One sour adult look at the current scene with a non-story as an excuse.