March 28, 2014
Disclaimer on a “Cool” posting
**From the gate, if you are extremely adverse to four to six letter words, you may wanna close your eyes on this one.**
If you’re a dancer, or like to dance, or have any friends who like to dance, and you’re anywhere in the Tri-State area, then you’ve very likely heard of the Freedom Party. (As a matter of fact, it’s FRIDAY…pull your hair into a ponytail, throw on some cute jeans/leggings, dancin’ shoes – like seriously, don’t play yourself and wear heels – and a top you don’t mind sweatin’ out and get there! Digression!! Sorry…not the point…)
Well, one of the spin-masters of that party, Herbert Holler, also lets us into his very interesting mind during the week and below is something he sent this week. I totally agree with him so I told him I was gonna re-post and in his “coolness” he said ‘sure’.
Now I’m sure you’ll notice that he’s coming from the scene on the “other side”, but really, just how different is it in somr churches? How many churches have you attended where it’s more important to get “turnt up” in the spirit than to just rejoice in the Lord? I’ve been countless places where you really would think they were on ‘molly’ at 830 Sunday morning….but ask them what the Word of the Lord was and they couldn’t tell ya. Ooooooh, but the “spirit was HIGH”!!! LOL
So I think we all need to re-evaluate what “cool” is/was and maybe try to get back to it just a little.
Anyway, here’s his email…like I said, there are some previously edited expletives that I’ve left (but you know what they mean) so if you’re highly sensitive to that be aware. Oh, and please don’t run to the left and think the entire post deals with the one situation mentioned, that’s simply an example.
What happened to “cool?”
I know, I know. A bunch of you that I’m friends with on Facebook, or that follow me on Twitter, already read some of this inner dialog. I want to take a minute to really flesh it out though, if not for the sake of this semi-pseudo market research, then at least for the sake of ending my latest obsession. Finding some closure. Maybe even coming up with a passable theory.
So? What happened to it?
In today’s scene, all I hear is “turn up” and “live tonight…like it’s the last night of your life” and all that YOLO sh*t. What happened to just…layin’ up in the cut, chillin’, not acting crazy, just falling back and being easy? What happened to that?! For real?!
When I was growing up, everybody wanted to be cool. Today, it seems like everyone wants to be seen as some superpowered berzerker megaparty time-bomb freakazoid that gives no f***s about anyone or anything. Like “Yeahhh!! We on molly! We on molly!” Really, my dude?! You just swallowed some pure MDMA? That’s great, but why do you have to announce it to the world? I mean, should you?! If there’s anything to be subtle about, it’s your recreational drug activity, you dork.
(I said “dork.” Damn I haven’t heard that one in a while.)
Have you no tact? No cool?
Somehow, and none of us ever saw this coming, EVER, but somehow, being cool became very uncool. Understating hints of a lack of confidence or some type of sadness or melancholy. Being subtle is a personality disorder. Why are you not plastering your good fortune all over every bit of social media? Why are you not taking 100 pictures of yourself in your new outfit and letting us see every one of them? You got a promotion at work? Why come you ain’t tell everybody (including the person’s spot you took) and take a Vine of yourself doing a little happy dance?
“Fun” is so much funner when it’s not forced. “Crazy” only works when you do little to nothing to be crazy. You just is. Crazy! I don’t believe you when you spend time on trying to tell the world you’re crazy. If you make an effort to be “wild,” you are not wild. Miley Cyrus’ tongue has become a prop, a willful gesture dropped on cue for a camera. She’s not wild, crazy, or even slutty, like she desperately wants you to believe. Hungry, maybe? I don’t know. Maybe she’s vision impaired and has found a way to use her toungue to get a better picture of her environs, like a snake?
Eh, I don’t believe you.
It’s like the cool kids at school. ‘Member them? I liked them, no problem with them, at times wanted to be rolling with them (but never did cuz I would never change who I was–an extrovert who liked to clown around a lot). If you analyzed the cool-kid crew, there was the nucleus of cool kids, the two or three who were genuinely “cool,” naturally, and had no idea that they were cool, and would probably even laugh and deny it like, “who me?” They was some cool muhfuggiz that I rocked with. It was the hangers on, though, that were faking. The electrons spinning around the nucleus that were trying too hard to be down with the cool core, the ones you knew weren’t really cool (they knew it too), and coincidentally, the ones that always had to remind the world they were cool and you were not. They were, more often than not, the biggest d*cks in that crew cuz they had to prove that which was so painfully obvious: They were really not cool at all.
Perhaps I’m just getting old.
I look at Miley and try not to judge, try not to see a hot mess, and instead judge her parents. (They failed.) I look at pop culture, today’s youth market, and feel more and more detached from it. I try to relate to these kids, make excuses for their behaviour, remember when I was a irreverant miscreant myself (rappin’ every word to Eazy-E’s “Still Talkin'”), but the more I try to be something I’m not, the more obvious it becomes I’m exactly the thing I’m fighting. Yesterday at the gym, I found myself passing the ball to dude in the post. Somebody said that was “old school.” And here I thought that was just good basketball! What…Am I supposed to pass it to you, so you can do your best Iverson impression and take on the whole team yourself, drive the lane with 5 dudes on your back, only to miss a layup, call “ball” and get into an argument with both teams and everybody in the gym?
I’m not getting old.
I feel like I’m just getting smart. (Finally.)
Though the other day I tucked my t-shirt into my sweatpants…that isht is OLD!
FRIDAY NIGHT = WE DANCE, WE LAUGH, WE SING, WE SHARE, WE PARTY, WE DON’T TRY HARD