Today, I’m gonna just jump right into my continuing series of defining everyone in the world, because I’ve got a lot to say, and so little time.
People who align themselves with things that have no business garnering allegiances-
A natural thing to do, especially in your teen years, is to seek out people you think are cool and figure out what sort of social group they belong to and sort of begin trying out identifying with that group yourself. SO, you’ve got an older brother who listens to the Dead, you get a tie dye, smoke some incense masquerading as ‘opium,’ dance around, figure out it’s not for you, then move on to the guy you kind of goof around with in science class who is really into lacrosse. Maybe you play a few games and get some sandals. Maybe you just reuse the sandals that you had when you were a hippy. Whatever. Anyway, maybe that too, is not for you and so you decide that after a few really fun jazz band practices, you’ll go back to your buddy Doug’s house and listen to his heavy metal and see if that grabs you.
This is the rotating identity cycle that anyone who’s got half a sense of adventure in their life goes through. Nothing really upsets me more than when someone points to someone and mentions that they’ve only been ‘into’ whatever it is (punk/graffiti/bondage) for a short time and therefore they’re a poser or lame or not worthy or whatever. Nope. They’re just figuring shit out. You know what’s sad? Someone who discovered exactly who they are at age fourteen and is still that same person. These are the people, often, who still act like fourteen year olds and are the most quick to decry the person who has just recently discovered the excitement of a particular subculture. Probably, on some level there’s a jealousy factor involved, since the ‘lifer’ has never really had the experience of associating himself with anyone but his initially chosen group of people.
I’m getting off topic here. My point is, categorizing things is a natural impulse in a world of chaos and disorder. That’s why language and ideas of family developed, to use two examples a little more significant than the Gay Ska Rollerbladers Alliance or whatever you’re involved in…but that’s a disingenuous joke, because I’m not talking about specific clubs like the GSRA (you’ll figure it out eventually), I’m talking about larger life choices. Being a working man, a bum, a skeezer, a deadhead, a goth. Almost all people do this shit, and often they defy easy classification because they’re deadheads who play in goth bands and work in an office but also hunt on the weekends (sounds like a RAD dude). But you get the idea. Life’s like jail. You get thrown in, and you better join up with one of these fucking groups, or you’re gonna get fucked in the ass and beaten to a pulp.
Now, the type of people I’m talking about today are not these people who defy easy categorization, as most individuals who are even remotely well rounded do. I’m referring to people who define themselves strictly by their allegiance to something that has no business garnering any allegiance. These are people who feel compelled to exist outside the box but who have no real interesting ideas, and so in a haphazard desperate grasp for an identity, they gripped onto something so fucking marginalized and stupid that no one in the world even cares enough to tell them it’s a pretty dumb little identity they’ve carved out for themselves.
An example? How bout the McRib?
There are motherfuckers who travel around the world just looking for McRibs. That wasn’t just an episode of the Simpsons, man. That’s based in truth. Okay, I understand music, sports, money, sex, food (yes, I said food), being the basis of an identity, but one lousy sandwich? Are you shitting me? that’s a little narrow in scope, no?
There’s that guy in Super Size Me who eats a big mac every day for every meal. What the fuck? That’s your defining characteristic? A sandwich? I mean, I know we JUST went through this with the McRib, but dduuuuuuuuuuuude! A sandwich? Jesus.
Okay, lest you think I’m picking on McDonalds, I have a friend who’s cousin is an avid follower of the band Seven Mary 3. You’ll have to look them up, but you’ll be sorry they did. A byproduct of the grunge scene in the same way that shitting is sometimes a byproduct of giving birth, Seven Mary 3 was a one (arguably 2) hit wonder from about 93. They were a three piece featuring a fat singer with a goatee and some of the dumbest lyrics/songs imaginable. “I have become cumbersome to this world, I have become cumbersome to my girl.” Okay, you’ve got the basic idea, right? Well, my friend told me that his cousin actually FOLLOWS 7M3 (as the fans like to abbreviate) with, I don’t know, how many could there possibly be? A group of fifteen? Thirty? Thirty five at MOST, a traveling, Deadhead like fanbase and they travel to county fairs and bars and shit to watch a still active (!!!) 7M3 perform.
Sounds like the makings of a great documentary, or a terrible lifestyle choice, right? Well, here’s the best part: The dedicated fans have a name for the fans who just come out to see the ‘hit’ song. The ‘hit’ song, as quoted above, is called “cumbersome” and the fair-weather fans? What are they called?
This is true. This is NOT A JOKE, PEOPLE. There are human beings that have dedicated their LIVES to the idea that the entire seven mary three catalog should be celebrated and that those who only like cumbersome should be mocked and ridiculed. Jesus. I wonder what they’ve got in store for the vast majority of earth that thinks seven mary three totally sucks the dick off a goat, cumbersome included.
Okay, I think we get the idea, right? I look forward to rapping with you guys on Monday. I have to go to work and do my best not to kill someone for 8 hours. Ta ta!