Well, that's not entirely true. It's actually quite easy to get me to go into a corner...just put on some dance music and ask me to dance. Of all the things I can't do, my inability to "shake my bootie" ranks among the most irksome. I really wish I could dance. I don't mean that I have to be able to "Moonwalk" or grab my crotch or do the "Bus Stop", or the "Mashed Potato" or the "Alligator" or the "Swim". (Could the names be any stupider..really?) But to just be able to go out there and not embarrass myself would be nice. I no longer wish to the "that guy" who people have to advise to go and sit down as if I was some old grandpa who gets too excited every time he hears one of FDR's old fireside chats, would be quite enjoyable. My limitations aside however, I have to tell you, I really hate most dance music. Particularly dance music penned since, oh let's say....1972.
Why is this on my mind? Well, over the past several years I have had the "honor" of chaperoning the Homecoming dance where I teach. The honor is based on the fact that I'm the High School, Student Council Advisor, and it is Student Council who is responsible for the Homecoming dance. My main responsibility revolves around scoring a DJ. There doesn't have to be food, and there doesn't have to be decorations, but if there's no DJ, then there's no dance. For some reason, no matter who I get for the dance, the kids will always tell me that the DJ sucked. I find that curious since from about 7:15, right after the dance starts, until about 10PM, when the dance ends, the majority of the kids hop onto the dance floor and never get off of it.
The music, which I assume is the same played at most high school dances, is predominantly hip/hop - I believe. Or maybe it's "Top 40". All I know is, what the music lacks in quality, it makes up for in its ear splitting volume. The dance floor looks like an erotic mosh pit. Every so often, I and the other chaperones take a stroll around the dance floor, and what we happen upon is enough to make Bob Guccione blush. (For those of you who don't remember him, Bob Guccione was the publisher of Penthouse. a hard-hitting magazine known for its in-depth interviews, journalistic integrity, and extremely graphic pictures of girls who were too "slutty looking" for Playboy, I'm only guessing here since I only read it for the Cigarette advertisements...by the way, unlike Playboy, which used to at least try to pretend that the Centerfolds were normal everyday women whose likes and dislikes included phony people, obnoxious guys and red meat, Penthouse, didn't even pretend their girls were anything but strippers, I for one found the honesty refreshing) Anyway, back to the dance floor. So as we circumnavigate the crowd, we often witness students shaking certain body parts in a vigorous fashion Apparently, I've been informed that this is henceforward to be known as "Twerking". (Had I known this, it would have saved me the embarrassing 911 call I made reporting an outbreak of sudden "ass-seizures" that had taken hold of the various student body).
"Twerking" reminded me of some sort of pseudo-erotic bat-signal. In many ways I envy the lack of inhibitions. It must be wonderful to be so free and unencumbered by society's restrictions. On the other hand, where the hell did they think they were? How oblivious can a person be? Ah youth.
It's somewhat amusing that every generation hates the next generations' music, dance and fashion styles. I'm sure going back to the time of Mozart, parents said to their kids, "You're not going to see that big-wigged radical play those wild concertos on that loud ear bleeding harpsichord while Frau Schnitizengruuben "twerks" in her corsett like some sort of Balkin Hussy". I"m pretty sure that's exactly what they would have said. The "Charleston" was seen as corrupting America's youth in the 1920s, a decade where women known as "flappers" put American values on its collective ears with their smoking, and drinking, and flaunting of most of their upper ankle! The 1950s saw Bill Haley and his Comets (who looked like a bunch of CPA's) daring our teens to have the audacity to "Rock around the clock", with literally no end in sight!
Which brings me back to the fact that I still can't dance. A few years ago, my wife and I, and all of our friends on the block took swing dancing lessons.....for what reason I'm not sure, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. We lasted about four lessons. It was at that point I realized that one universal truth remains: It is easier to make fun of something I can't do, then to try to do something that's difficult. My dancing shoes rest comfortably next to my cross-country skis, my guitar, my power tools, racquetball racquet, and so many other "good efforts". So in conclusion, I believe I will leave the "twerking" to the experts. A guy could get hurt out there!
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