Lame: The new cool
My last post about how I’m out, loud, and proud as a nerd brought my biggest response to date, which tells me two things. First, it tells me that all of you are also pathetic geeks or proud geeks (which, let’s face it, is pathetic). And second, it tells me that people enjoy it when I admit to being lame.
Why? Because it validates them in being lame, too. It lets people know that they’re not alone, that they are not the only person doing stupid shit. It allows people to unburden their souls and admit to watching Star Trek marathons or to having liked the Spice Girls. You start to realize: I’m not the only person who dances alone to Devo.
Look. Everyone does lame things, but everyone paradoxically tries to be cool and suppresses their lameness in order to project an aura of coolness. But because we’re all lame, what’s lame is really cool and what’s cool is really lame and it’s all just a big shell game.
Yeah.
Think about it for a second: Doing lame stuff makes you cool. Being willing to admit it makes you brave. And everyone loves the brave lame cool guy or gal. Tell people your lamenesses and they’ll scoff, but secretly they’ll be crapping their pants over how cool you are.
So.
The other day I’m at the bookstore, sitting in one of those big comfortable chairs and drinking a latte and reading. And the book I’m reading is Twilight. In case you’ve been living under a rock (I’m looking at you, Patrick Star), the Twilight series is Dawson’s Creek with vampires. The target market is 17-year-old girls. And I know this because as I was reading it, two 17-year-old girls walked by and laughed at me.
I turned to my wife, Robin.
“Is it totally lame for me to be reading this?” I asked her.
She didn’t look up from her magazine. “Almost four o’ clock,” she said.
I’m so cool that my wife doesn’t even pay attention to me. I’m that off-the-charts cool with my comfortable chair and teen fiction and knowledge of calculus that she can’t even relate. I’m so cool that I can’t be in a new environment for two days before my digestive system malfunctions and I get all uncomfortable and gassy. My mom says, “You’re like an old man.” Yeah, I’m that cool.
I’ve read the entire Harry Potter series several times through.
I’d rather stay in than go out, almost without exception.
I get really excited at the prospect of having a new computer.
And… okay, deep breath on the next one.
I watched Sex and the City from beginning to end. And I liked it. And my wife and I went to see the movie. And I liked it. I was literally the only man in the theater. But I have this theory that being willing to admit you like unmanly things actually makes you more manly. Makes chicks dig you more, because you’re sensitive.
So yeah, that’s right. I know that Carrie chose Mr. Big and that in the end, Miranda married Steve. You got a problem with that? Talk to my cool counselor. He’s four, and we have the exact same taste in everything, including SpongeBob SquarePants. And he didn’t introduce me to SpongeBob; I’ve been watching for seven years. Do the math.
So right about now, some of you are wondering what you’ve gotten yourselves into. I thought Johnny was cool, you’re thinking. But that’s your old paradigm. Lame is the new cool. Johnny is cool, but cool isn’t what it used to be.
And if you’re still bothered by my particular breed of new-cool, just keep in mind that most of you know me from forums and Twitter. Since you were there too, and since you’re reading a blog right now, how old-style-cool can you really be? Go to the local high school and ask the football quarterback how many blogs he reads. If he takes a break from having sex with cheerleaders long enough to answer, I’d be willing to bet the answer is less than one.
Admit your lameness and embrace it as your coolness. It’s liberating. The popular kids in high school had their moment, but they peaked and then went downhill. If you never peak, you can never decline, which is exactly why I like punk rock. Not supporting “what’s in” or even “what’s normal” makes you cool-recession-proof. It makes you forever awesome.
And the people who would scoff at your admissions of lameness? They probably already think you’re uncool. Chances are you’re at saturation with them, unable to appear any less cool.
It’s like Mitch Hedburg said about his idea to make EZ Cheez fluorescent: “If you’re willing to eat room-temperature cheese that comes out of a can, you’re probably not going to be mad that it glows in the dark.”
Embrace your lameness, my lame-cool non-IRL friends. It will set you free. Do it now, as part of my…
… wait for it…
SUPER NERD-OFF!
Post your lamenesses to the comments if you want to admit it and see if you can become super-cool. Then tell your friends, and pass them the link to this post. Encourage them to become cool, to try to out-cool you.
The coolest lame story wins a free signed copy of my book, to be decided in one week. Chuck, remind me because I’m so cool I’ll forget.
Note: We’re looking for lame-cool, not lame-creepy. Admitting to obsessing over Hello Kitty cartoons is pushing it.
Now go, nerds. Go!