So, a little over two weeks have now passed since the unveiling of the greatest unintentional pop parody of the current day: your friends are chanting it relentlessly, people are having their bowl/cereal and eating it too, and you probably have a Friday hangover the size of Wisconsin.
when the hell did this happen?
In the aftermath of this sudden weekend ode for the ages many of us are left with questions:
Why is the KSA (♪you know what it is♪) of Columbia University hollering this tune across the dining hall? Why is the lady cutting your hair looking so forward to the weekend that she can't listen when you tell her to stop? And why do 35 year-old black men have to rap for fifteen seconds on every damn song by an auto-tuned teenager?
Put down the scissors-- I think the answer is simpler than we may realize.
We we we, Americans are constantly pressured to be the best we possibly can be. Ace that test so you can get into the top regional prep school- so you can make the varsity team, manage five extracurriculars, and ace the SATS- so you can go to that college Princeton Review raved about- so you can start working for the man at 22- so you can have the perfect family and then a breakdown at 50 when you realize that time is ticking on and on and everybody's rushin'- but to what end?
Are our lives just endless series' of tick-tock tick-tock wanna' scream? (still not sure about that line...)
The fact is that we are a people constantly pushed to the brink by the expectations of our own society. We give it our all-- and, often, that's all we have to show for it.
But what if--
What if one day we collectively said: "No, I'm not going to try my hardest- I'm gonna give this a medium-to-sub-par effort and whatever happens happens!" LSAT's- Bah! Office work- No one actually reads TPS reports!
There's just something so liberating about knowing you could have gone the mile, but drove a block to DQ and got a double cookie dough blizzard instead. We may be Americans, we may have our responsibilities, but we also love people who, with or without auto-tune, still can't sing for shit,
sandwiches that, by all logic, shouldn't exist,
and shows that shouldn't either, for people who have eaten way too many said sandwiches.
It's how we roll (sometimes in a very literal way) and I'm 100% in favor of it. Today I give R-B--Rebecca Black a big, smiley facepalm, not only for realizing humanity's aesthetic zenith, but also for sticking it to authority in a way few of us ever have the guts to. It may be Tuesday outside, but it'll always be Friday in spirit--
So, quit sitting in the front seat/kickin' in the back seat of your cubicle and drop that text book, we gonna' have a ball today and there's nothing the machine can do to stop it! (other than withholding paychecks, firing you, prescribing psychiatric help ...
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