I'm rather confused, which should come as a huge shock to the reading audience. I don't understand certain national customs and thought I'd get my thoughts, feelings and emotions out in the open.
Forgive me if I've broached this particular starting point before. I did explore some older columns but couldn't ascertain whether or not I had exploded over the following subject.
Why does the youth of our nation claim that they would like to be individuals and yet, they act in sync to the max?
For instance, (and I know I've blathered on about this before), the teen girls all share that same irritating, grate-on-my-last-nerve, way of communicating, which I shall call, “up-talking.” I cannot even take credit for said label as I stole it from Greg Gutfeld, of The Five and Red Eye fame.
If you are not familiar with Gut, please feel free to research him yourselves. I don't have the energy, or the inclination, to guide people through life, at this time. Catch me next week and perhaps I could be of some aid at that time.
I'm now moving back to the infamous, suicide inducing, rage-causing, subject of up-talking. The definition of such is not easily written but, when did that ever stop me?
The up-talk method could be described as ending most, all and/or any, word with a higher tone than was utilized at the beginning of said phrase. I believe it is a slight variation of a little something I like to call, “Valley Girl Speak.” Again, I didn't coin that phrase either, as the late, great Frank Zappa, along with his daughter, Moon, made the Valley Girl a household irritant.
I hope that explains up-talking. I fear that I kind of stink at imparting the details concerning that epidemic. Just remember, the last syllable is almost enough to shatter glass, if one is up-talking.
Another way that kids “display individualism” is when they plaster themselves with tattoos and/or body piercings. However, don't judge them as they are ALL simply attempting to express their independent natures. (Total sarcasm implied.)
I have an idea, (cease with those horrid thoughts). Why not keep the body intact in order to really give it to the man? Silly thought, I realize.
When I was a young woman, my father referred to crowds, of the younger set, as, “The Sea of Blue.” This meant that all in his path were dressed in denim. I have no issues with said fabric but am kind of self loathing, at the moment, because I've now become my father in terms of taking note of the oneness of humans before us.
I fondly remember dodging pedestrians at Conneaut Lake Park, as dad manned the wheel of his wooden truck. I recall hearing something along these lines every, single, solitary time that we maneuvered through: “Just look at this *&#$@ sea of blue.” I miss that man. (Mind you, I know that my father not-so-secretly wanted to mow down the meandering masses before him. He wasn't fooling me a bit.)
Changing the subject, I'm also perplexed as to why fashion trends have become, well, super bizarre.
One fad would be the front-tuck-only-form of dress, (FTOFD). I've seen the FTOFD on sitcoms, in malls and on soaps. I don't get it. Is the woman too lazy to compete the painstaking process of the full tuck? Is it supposed to be figure flattering when one shields the rear end and brings focus to the front? Hmm...
This next gripe doesn't pertain to attire, honestly, but I shall mention it anyway in order to fill space. Why are some bleached blond individuals now proudly showing off dark roots? Back in my day, it was the custom to get to the root of the matter, as often as possible, if you catch my drift. That way, a clearly brunette-at-birth-bimbo could fake it. (More casual sarcasm for your reading pleasure.)
Just take a gander at the telly or at a modeling magazine, of some sort, and let me know if you too spy the true colors glistening in the breeze. As always, I will expect a full report on my desk, or in my email in-box by next Monday.
I think I've walloped mankind as much as possible, in this stunning piece. Plus, I realize how fragile we've all become and I never want to offend, don't cha know. (Do I even need to insert the word sarcasm again, at this point?)
THE END.