Tag Archives: new found glory

I like stuff because I like stuff. OH HOW POMO.

Does everything have to be steeped in irony? Does everything you like have to come with a thousand caveats and a knowing smile? I just read this piece on the Grauniad and, naturally, it’s a bit shit. But what annoyed me most is how it assumes anyone going to these clubnights does so out of a confused sense of nostalgia, or to be a hipster, post-modern, ironic, whatever.

Not just because you can get drunk and dance like a dickhead to songs you (still) like, oh no siree. You couldn’t possibly still listen to bands like New Found Glory without explaining to every passer-by you only do so because your musical tastes are so well-developed you’re reminding your brain of how hilarious it is to listen to simpler music, like that you listened to when you were an idiotic, musically-stupid child.

You couldn’t possibly enjoy playing videogames without being an eternal manchild. You wouldn’t enjoy watching wrasslin’ without being a redneck who still thinks it’s real. You don’t eat sweets unless you can hilariously point out that you used to buy that very treat from the tuckshop. You only eat mature food. You only talk about politics, and joking is something only reserved for when you’re being totally po-mo. You should be married by 30, have a mortgage by 32, have kids by 34, work in middle management, own a Ford Focus blah de blah.

Yes, I’ve gone a bit off-piste here, but I can’t help but think it all ties in. People seem incapable of admitting they still enjoy things from their past without adding in four thousand different excuses and reasons as to why they do. Fuck dat sheeit, innit. I like Blink 182.

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Celebrating celebrity hypocrisy

Turns out I’m a massive hypocrite. Well, I say ‘turns out’ as if that isn’t already hugely obvious, but shut up or I’ll rip out your eyeballs with a spork. Yes, ‘rip’.

I will happily sit and judge you because of your stupid love for celebrities. I will still take the piss out of you for how you reacted in Wokmania when Justin from Hollyoaks turned up. I will still not care when Prince Naseem Hamed walks past me in Meadowhall (pre-fat, pre-hit and run or whatever it was). I will still not give a shit about your celebrity spotting nonsense magazines. And I will not spend my time in Los Angeles trying to look for people who might have been on TV once or twice and getting either excited when I do see them or disappointed when I don’t.

Turns out I’m a bit of a hypocrite on that last point, though.

See, I wasn’t looking for anything in particular outside the Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, but seeing the Marx Brothers foot/handprints made me go a bit funny inside. I just stood on the slab for about ten minutes, smiling like an idiot. And Groucho had smaller feet than me HA. And Harpo signed his name with the image of a harp then an ‘O’. Clever.

So that was strike one.

Then there was the plane ride. Standing, waiting to be called forward I notice a man stood alone, reading a book. He stood out because he was a bit of a wall of a man, as well as being heavily tattooed – oh, and the fact that he looked like I’m going to look in about 20 years. Yes folks, none other than Henry Rollins was waiting to board the same plane as I was. I had time to approach him and pester him in a non-dickish manner, possibly getting a photo and uttering the word “legend” at him.

Instead I just stood, gawking, from across the lounge. Too scared to go near him, too intimidated to even say his name above a muttered whisper to the others with me who didn’t know who he was.

Then, of course, I went to my seat on the plane only to find I was sat next to (well, next-but-one, with a travelling companion acting as a buffer) the lead singer of one of my favourite bands, New Found Glory. Ten hours of uninterrupted access to someone I actually like and respect? That’s the recipe for something that could make legendary anecdotes in future years.

Naturally I said nothing more than “no worries mate” when he thanked me for moving for him so he could go for a piss (he pisses like I do! What are the odds!). In my defence I didn’t want to wake him up or keep him awake – it was a redeye flight after all – but surely I could have said something?

Yes, but I was starstruck and nervous. Because it turns out I’m just as bad as you mortals when it comes to these things. I was the same with Bret Hart last year – I only got a photo with him because someone more normal than I asked him for one first, so the ice was broken.

Stupid world. I should have just gone and slapped Rollins on the head and got off with Jordan.

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