The Tipping Point

Let’s begin by stating the obvious, I’m not Malcolm Gladwell, he happens to be an infinitely greater writer and Canadian then I could ever strive to be.

In all seriousness if you haven’t read any of his work, stop reading this and order one of his books, they’re all phenomenal. One of Gladwell’s bestsellers is entitled The Tipping Point in which he claims that there is a “magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behavior crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire”. For example in his introduction he recounts an anecdote where a type of shoe (hush puppies to be more specific) was fading into obscurity when a subset of individuals in Manhattan started purchasing the shoes and within months their popularity exploded.


My blog post is diametrically opposite in subject manner and quality. Society is full of examples of these “points” where trends explode, but I’m positive these same “points” exist in the death of trends. Examples were society becomes so saturated with a certain idea that the balloon literally bursts and the trend is sentenced to a quick death. For all the good he’s done, God in all of his infinite wisdom did not place me in charge of dolling out the death sentences for the fashions and movements that have overstayed their welcome. But luckily for you Yahweh is not in charge of this blogosphere, I am. And as the supreme ruler of this space I give to you a short list of ideas, trends and movements that I am doing my best to move toward and over a true tipping point into an everlasting abyss.

Let’s break these down into some broad categories

Clothes:

Neon everything

I get it, fashion is cyclical. What is “in style” will eventually fade into obscurity only to return to prominence decades later. Neon is no exception to this rule. I believe that within reason someone from the summer of 1992 could be brought to the future and fashion wise, would fit right in. 

Personally I was slow to adopt this new trend and am quickly becoming eager for its demise. There are times where I feel like a social pariah because I wore only grey blue or black to the gym. Seriously, it’s completely out of control. In reality, a little neon is fine. Wanna wear a neon tank top? Great. Feel like rocking some neon yoga pants? More power to you. But as we all learned in high school, adults ruin everything. Kinda like Kevin Hart

Just a little advice if you’re all in on the neon trend (especially if your college years are behind you). 1. Pace yourself 2. Don’t simultaneously wear different shades of the same neon color. 3. Not everything you own has to be neon 4. You probably look a little less than ½ as cool as you think you do.

Graphic shirts with sayings

This is a pretty specific trend, and is generally limited to Adidas, Under Armour and Nike. Quick history lesson, the pioneer for this trend (years ago) was And 1. With beauties like this...

Quick update, if you are in the mood for some current And 1 merchandise make your way to your local Wal-Mart’s sales rack. However the geniuses in Eugene decided to raise this trend from the dead, but now instead of good natured (albeit ridiculous) smack talk these shirt reek of sexual innuendo and tired clichés. I’ve found that If you need a shirt to tell people how awesome you are at athletics, you probably suck.

My personal favorite is this recent offering from Nike:

Whenever I see a teenager at my gym wearing this shirt I calmly walk up to him and begin to apologize for my inability to to not perspire over his swag. The teenager usually looks completely confused as I offer to explanation and continue walking….yeah I know, my life sounds awesome.

Media:

Post-Apocalyptic Media

In general the movie industry is a joke. Seriously, look at this summer’s line up of films. Hardly appetizing. But this lack of Hollywood quality is a well-documented trend. Accordingly the argument that Hollywood is seemingly out of ideas isn’t exactly novel. There is no greater example of this awful trend then Hollywood’s over reliance on post-apocalyptic films or television series. What is our fascination with this idea? I have zero interest in the post-apocalyptic universe.


Why on earth (pun intended) would I care what life is going to be like some natural disaster destroyed half the planet?

Are we interested in paying money to see what life could be like if we apes started running the show?

Seriously, how can we be tricked into being entertained by the thought of teenage girls leading revolts against overbearing governments?

I was under the impression that the Left Behind series had just about handled the rapture angle, but low and behold HBO has decided to make a extremely depressing series about it. 

And to top it off Nicholas Cage has decided that Kirk Cameron just wasn't convincing enough the first time around.... 

Zombies / Werewolves / Vampires

Can we all agree this has run its course? Now, I’m not against fantasy as a media genre. There resides a special place in my heart for Tyrion Lannister, Legolas, and Mad Eye Moody.

And the previously mentioned three fantasy series each contain elements of human like beasts, resurrected beings and blood thirsty folks with sharp teeth. But they aren’t the focus of the show. They don’t put these people in realistic settings. Who wants to go to high school with vampires? Who wants to run around in rural Georgia with zombies? Who wants to cheat on a vampire with a werewolf? Media is saturated with this idea.

Use some logic, if werewolves start popping out of the forest and shredding folks we will figure out a beneficial way to eradicate their habitat just like the Dodo. If the most famous ethnic group from Transylvania stages a mass migration to the US, some medical device company will create an insanely expensive metal collar (preferably neon colored) for all of us to wear. And finally, if the dead starting resurrecting from the grave we will do what Americans do best…. Discriminate.

Political correctness

I’m so tired of this trend. There is a certain amount of this that needs to happen. Obviously we can’t have everyone just saying anything they want at any time. Although it would create incredible opportunities for humor, society yearns for some semblance of order and a complete lack of PC result in chaos. Take for example this recent “Ice Bucket Challenge” for ALS. This is a silly stunt people do to raise awareness and money about a terrible disease, but of course this can’t be left alone. Instead of supporting this for what it is, people are upset that those participating in the challenge are wasting water while kids in Africa die of thirst. Being in public relations these days must be a nightmare. They probably spend half their day thinking of every possible way that their product or client could be placed in a negative light and trying to combat it. Trying to make everything perfect sounds exhausting, enough is enough. 

Combo:

Super hero media and clothes

This is a special category combining both media and clothes. I can’t be the only person that finds the majority of super heroes boring, right? In my mind there are two types of super heroes: 

1st are those that possess some “super human” physical ability, naturally inherited or otherwise given to them by any type of scientific experiment. Example: Flash’s ability to run fast. 2nd is when some person with normal physical ability takes a personal tragedy and with the help of his rather large inheritance starts regulating Gotham. 

By now the hierarchy should be clear. Batman is a super hero everyone else is garbage. I’m sorry; I don’t feel bad for Superman because he’s an outcast due to his super human strength. The dude basically won the genetic lottery and I’m supposed to pity him because some elementary kids are teasing him for being strong? Give me a break, if Superman came to earth today here’s what would happen. He’s arrives, people find out he’s incredibly strong, fast, agile etc… and he would immediately receive athletic scholarship offers from every college in the country. He would grace the cover of Sports Illustrated

and eventually sign an athletic deal with Under Armour (they already got the shirts made).

Finally he would probably get any girl he wanted, be insanely rich and save lives as a hobby….sounds awful. You know who the real super heroes are? Hold on and let me be politically correct real quick… The real heroes are Fireman, police, soldiers, teachers, doctors, nurses and everyone else who might in some way, shape, or form assist another human, or animal through their employment or volunteer efforts.

Unfortunately, when it comes to DC and Marvel, Hollywood and our appetite for their offerings cannot be satiated. We are constantly bombarded with the newest super hero show or movie. Some are surprisingly good (Guardians of the Galaxy most recently) but most are garbage (everything besides the Avengers). Unfortunately this phenomenon seemingly has no end. IMDB is filled with message boards about the most obscure DC comic possibly slated for a movie release in 2020…sigh….

I too love feeling nostalgia from childhood, but that doesn’t mean I want to wear socks with bunch of “S’s” on them or a T-shirt with the bat signal printed across the chest. Jerry Seinfeld and Dane Cook most eloquently touched on this phenomenon, but let me add my piece.

The following are rules for wearing Super Hero clothing. 

1. Is it Halloween? If the answer is yes then wear all the super hero stuff you want. If the answer is no, then calmly proceed to #2. 

2. Are you in elementary school? If yes, then you’re good to go. If the answer is no, then hopefully you kept the receipt for your inane purchase and should return it promptly.  

Dichotomy

Currently, I own a white 1997 F150 pickup. It’s basic in every sense of the word. It’s a 5 speed that boasts powerless locks, powerless windows and one un-inclinable bench seat.  The paint is fading in numerous places, the tint on the back window is failing and the stereo system could best be described as archaic. I absolutely love this truck.

Up till now the truck has been fantastic, no issues to speak of. Trucks (especially old ones) are great. They don’t need to be cleaned regularly, look good somewhat messy, and have a built in open faced garage some call “the bed”. However, recently this glorious vehicle’s impeccable veneer has begun to wane. The past few months have required numerous trips to my local mechanic (more on him in a sec). A failing clutch and an inability to start consistently, the main culprits. This is frustrating for two reasons. The first is the sinking suspicion that at some point in the not too distant future I’m going to have to purchase a new vehicle.  Secondly, and more problematically, it reveals an enormous flaw in my emerging sense of manhood. I know nothing and I mean nothing about motor vehicles and how they work.

Although I’m happy to shoulder some of this blame, in my defense, it’s not my fault. Growing up my Dad and my Step-Dad fulfilled two very important “male” stereotypes: sports knowledge and mechanical knowledge respectively. My Dad has some ability to discuss how to fix certain things, but is much more comfortable discussing the benefits of a Cover 2 over Man when attempting to stop a mobile quarterback. 

My Step-Dad is much the opposite, he knows the ins and outs of most sports but is better versed in the history of various engines than that of storied sports franchises.  Growing up in this dichotomy was beneficial, I learned about both, but naturally I gravitated towards sports. It should come as no surprise that I found participating in or watching sports on TV infinitely more exciting than trying to change the brakes on the family vehicle.

Unfortunately I have a sinking suspicion that perhaps I chose poorly. I’m well versed in all manners of the sports lexicon but am clueless about how vehicles actually work. My treasure chest of trivial sports knowledge is helpful on Sunday afternoons but useless 95% of the time. To complicate matters my opportunity to form a foundation of car maintenance competency has long since sailed away. This leaves me at the whim of asking others for help. I currently have two options: My family’s personal “pep boy” (AKA my Step Dad) or my local mechanic.

In my step dad’s defense he did his best to teach me and my brethren the basics of vehicle maintenance, sadly it didn’t take. Honestly, the guy deserves a medal. My brothers and I are full-grown and still call him at the earliest sign of car distress. He’s dropped his evening plans twice this past week to lend me (a 27 year old) a helping hand. It’s no secret he longs for me to move far enough away to make him completely unavailable for emergency car help. Part of the problem is the vast knowledge gap that exists between us. He’s operating on completely different plane. 

 Even his name speaks to his abnormal ability. Ironically his Christian name is Todd, but he’s more commonly known as “Tim” a nickname I gave him when he joined our family. At the time “Home Improvement” was a popular show, which prominently featured comical opportunities to fix stuff. 

Now fans of this show will point out that in the show “Tim” (Tim Allen) didn’t actually fix the issues, but instead, consistently created them. I admit, in reality, a more appropriate nickname would have been “Al”.  But that guy was a square, and I wasn’t going to give my new Step Dad a bush league moniker. His acumen isn’t just reserved for our family; this dude receives phone calls from my friends for help and even his peers consistently call for advice. 

When I do end up helping him fix my car we each have well defined roles that we execute flawlessly. He diagnosis the issue comes up with solution and proceeds to make it happen. I specialize in well-timed and topical sarcastic remarks and flawless flashlight operation.

Whenever I do have a problem the majority of our phone related phone calls operate along the following script, loosely based on the two most recent SOS calls.

Me: Hey, I’m having car trouble…..

Him: What’s the problem?

Me: My truck won’t start.

Him: Does it turn over?

Me: I don’t know what that means….

Him: (Sigh) does it almost start? Or does it just kind of do a “click, click, click” noise?

Me: Oh it does the almost starting thing. Like it gets 95% of the way but doesn’t make it.

Him: Ok, pop the hood and find your spark plugs.

Me: Umm, what do they look like??

Him: (Sigh) Todd, you need to learn these kinds of things…. (Another sigh, dripping with definite signs of frustration) Where are you??

Me: My apartment

Him: I’m on my way. See you in 15

Me: Sorry about that, thanks…

At this point he’s unintentionally made me feel completely emasculated and I start contemplating my manhood in general. Unfortunately, besides having a full time job and living 6 miles from my parents’ house, there’s not a whole lot pointing towards my ability to be self-sufficient. Sometimes I feel like I need to remind him of my worth by dropping a bloody bird carcass on his doorstep like a young Labrador.

If he can’t fix my car I take my car to my mechanic. He’s an uncouth man named Mike, who lives nearby, and runs an “auto shop” out of a detached garage at the back of his property. Now I can call him my mechanic because, well he is. Between my family and I we have taken 4 cars to his “shop”, and we don’t take them anywhere else. We trust him implicitly because he’s earned it. I’ll spare you the paragraph on the importance of finding a mechanic you can trust. Seinfeld and Putty did that well enough.

Back to Mike, I mentioned uncouth, and I don’t use that word lightly. He’s literally the most vulgar man I’ve ever been around. And since between my family and I, we’ve been to his shop about 15 times I’ve had plenty of interaction with him.

Mike has a short, slender build that even the most generous would hesitate to describe as athletic. His attire is consistent as his work. Unkept pepper colored hair with a 2-day-old beard and thin wire frame glasses. His pants and shirt (with or without sleeves) typically revolve around one pattern: camo.  He lives at the end of a one street neighborhood with a house and garage that sit on a one-acre lot. His house is plain and non descript, his garage / auto shop is obviously the main attraction of the property. It’s a metal rectangle the size of a two-car garage.  The left half of the inside looks like your typical mechanical shop. Tools big and small have their specific place lining the perimeter, and a large jack like apparatus is available to life vehicles off their wheels. The right half, provides more room for tools and cars, but really functions as a man cave. This includes a full size couch, projection screen with satellite television and a fridge full of beer. The decorations are modest and extremely country, fishing poles and various taxidermy animals.

To acquire Mike the Mechanic’s services you must set an appointment. It’s simple, you call Mike and ask if he is available to work on your vehicle. Typically his answer is yes, on more than one occasion his answer has been no. This is because Mike is in the weeds, not in the “really busy” sense of the word, but literally because he’s probably standing in weeds. Mike likes to go fishing, and to hunt, if he has to miss business, well that a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

The fist time I met Mike I approached him intent on describing the issue with my truck. Instead he started the conversation by casually mentioning to me that he was currently considering murdering his wife. Apparently she made him watch  “"Three's Company"” before bed, even though she knows he hates it. No worries though, I have seen his wife multiple times since that first encounter so I can happily report that his death threat was not fulfilled.

On my most recent call to Mike I was stranded at my local Kroger. I called Mike and asked him if he could give me a tip to help me get my truck started. I was expecting some solid mechanic advice. Instead, he told me to get a wrench and bang on the bottom of my gas tank really hard. So I climbed out of the cab, slid under by truck and proceeded to play “whack a mole” with what I believe is the bottom of my gas tank. Of course the truck didn’t start, but I did successfully get every person in the Kroger parking lot to stare at me. To top things off I was able to temporarily fix the issue when I received assistance from a middle aged lady. What's awesome about Mike is that he too has the ability to make me feel completely inadequate.

No worries though. I called Tim and when he arrived, he diagnosed the root of issue within 30 seconds, crisis averted. I had absolutely no oil. My response: A sly grin, shoulder shrug and a pretty meek….”whoops?”

One of these days I’m hoping that my years of acquiring sports knowledge will pay off. I like to imagine that I’ll happen upon a damsel in “sports distress” that is in desperate need of my expertise. Let’s get real though, that’s not going to happen. No worries I have a “plan B” too. Instead of being the damsel in “car distress” I'll be in the position to assist. I'll proceed to ask her if she needs help and promptly give Tim a call….