Kcuf Waldo, Where's Cosby?

When I was a kid, too small shirts & holes in your pants meant poverty. Or at least lower-middle class status. Now, I look around & can't tell the difference between the less fortunate & a some schmoe on his way to try out for "American Idol". My mom would spank me with her mini-bible if I left the house with hair untamed, & raggedy clothing was grounds to break out the Hot Wheels race car track. I guess nowadays, tattered & unkept is the new clean & taken care of. My son's friend came over the other day & I said to him, "it's hot outside kid, take off your beanie." With a look of shame, he informed me he wasn't wearing one. I'm all for culture & trend, but with kids today, they either look like they're going to rob you or ask you for a bite of your hot dog. Either way, they need to invent some sort of repellent.

I'll be first in line with green backs to squander.

Sagging was the common problem among the youth for quite a few years. Parents, teachers, & clergy men alike all protested the unnecessary showing of undergarments. & I think part of their disdain had to do with the fact that people weren't even cognizant enough to wear decent underwear before exposing skidmarks to the public eye. If your undies have peek-a-boo's, you might as well pull up the trousers & tighten your belt.

Nothing says "I'm not really that tough" like dirty draws.

Then, for the ladies (& some testosterone deficient men) came the "crack" problem. Not crack cocaine, but crack of their asses. Girls seemingly stopped wearing belts, solely relying on hips & behind to hold up their two sizes too small jeans. When seated, all those behind her were treated to half a vertical smile, like it or not, bullet wounds & body hair optional. Somewhere along the road to "sexy", a memo was circulated that "butt cleavage" was in. That memo was sadly exaggerated. This spawned the thong epidemic, in which any "young" lady, regardless of size &/or shape, decided it was a good idea to squeeze themselves into their skivvies, & hoist denim up around their haunches. Those that choose to go 'commando' (no draws a'tall) managed to bend over for various reasons as much as possible. Granted, on some occasions it was a nice, much welcomed surprise, but other times, it was the last thing I wanted to see before ordering a combo meal at Burger King.

If the straps of your thong reach the bottom of your rib cage, you might consider boy-shorts from this point forward.

When I turned 18, I got my first tattoo. It was discreet, medium-sized, in a place on my arm where, unless shirtless, no one would be the wiser. I'm 32 now, & this afternoon I saw a 15 year old girl with some guy's name sprawled across her chest in old english font like a ghetto super hero. Somebody should've told her that when new stretch marks meet that 'old english', her torso is going to resemble a map of Los Angeles backstreets. I'll admit, it looked kind of cool in contrast to the butterflies on her neck & the heart & dollar sign shaped tears under her left eye. The "100% BITCH" scribbled on her right fore arm gave a nice balance to Mickey Mouse on one calf & Betty Boop on the other. & I didn't even notice the 5 paw prints on the back of her thigh until she stood to walk away. But, what really made me notice her, was that she was on a cell phone arguing with her mom about being home before it got dark.

Huh?

Am I to believe that this girl's mom doesn't mind that she looks like an art project from a third world country, but cares if she's late for brussell sprouts & tofurkey? I haven't witnessed more mixed signals since Michael Jackson's video for the song "Black or White". This tattoo craze is getting out of control, & I blame musicians (namely rappers) for this neurotic behavior. Most of these youngsters aren't going to graduate high school (not mean, just honest) in the first place, much less get a halfway decent job with "KCUF LOVE" written across their back hand.

As Bill Cosby slips further & further into euphoric dementia, our society is quickly losing hope.

Maybe I'm jaded by the reality of getting older, but I just don't get the fads & trends of today. Maybe I'm not supposed to because they're not for me. I guess if I did understand them, it would be a sign of arrested development, & a cry for help from the best therapist my health insurance could afford.

I look at my children & wonder how much worse can "cool" things get, now that it's full body ink in junior high & complete lack of dress code.

It could be worse, like self-amputation of the hand used the least. Damn, I might've just gave somebody an idea.