Things have changed.
Last Thursday I opened the Weekend supplement and the first
article was about a rapper by the name of Flo Rida (get it?) who would be
headlining something called the Jingle Jam on Friday. Okayyyy…..
Next page is a photo of a middle aged, unsmiling guy with a
weathered face and long, and I mean long, stringy hair, scheduled to appear at
an establishment called the Abilene Bar and Lounge. His style is described as “melancholy” and “a
self-flaling inward gaze. Something that
he works on deep inside, where no one can see.”
Good. I don’t plan on seeing it
either.
Oh here’s something….The next headline features an artist
who “brings obtuse stylings to East End .” The accompanying photo shows a bearded man
with face paint, predominantly featuring big black circles all around his
eyes. And a smudge on his nose. He is looking directly into the camera as if
to say with a straight face, “Yes, I meant to look this way.” The description, and I kid you not, says, “A
devotee of ‘outsider art’ with a passion for creating difficult-to-interpret
art objects fashioned from found objects, matched by his wildly obtuse musical
compositions.” Oh goody. I’m such a fan of obtuse. NEXT!
Next page….a huge color photo of an apparently renowned DJ
whose head is completely shaved except for a row down the center from front to
back, which is sculpted into six dangerous looking spikes. Long ones.
Scary. Again….NEXT!
Oh I love this one…at the top of another page is a headline
which reads,”HOLIDAY JOY WORTH SHARING”. Underneath are two upcoming shows…’Lewis Black: The Rant is Due” with an accompanying photo of Black displaying
a scary angry grimace on his face. And the other show is Grand Funk Railroad. (BTW I am a big fan of Grand Funk. But the headline did say HOLIDAY
JOY. What about the Funk in Grand Funk?)
So I don’t know. I
think I’m too old for weekends anymore.
I used to like it when I opened the entertainment supplement of a
newspaper and saw photos of top 40 bands appearing at the Holiday Inn
lounge. They usually had matching shirts
and vests, or tuxedoes. Granted,
sometimes the matching shirts were that tacky polyester knit with the big
collars, but that was actually hip then.
See? See how unhip I am? The word ‘hip’ isn’t even hip anymore. *sigh*.
It’s okay. Let the
young be young. Let them gyrate on the
dance floor to their favorite DJ, dressed in scanty clothing, tossing their
hair and doing shots, …..oh wait a minute.
That was us. Never mind.
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