Voices >> Thursday, March 4th, 2010
The effortless transcendence of Gucci Mane
As someone who enjoys listening to and thinking about rap music, I’ve always had a hard time appreciating Gucci Mane. His tinny, dime-a-dozen synth beats make a mockery out of the sampling process that hip-hop was built on, and his unwillingness to rap about anything outside of his cars, jewelry, and guns, combined with his general aversion to making his lines actually rhyme, made most of his admittedly prolific output tough to stomach.
“I am the Lord of the Dance,” said he, nervously
I sat in the auditorium waiting for my turn. Each camper stood, said his or her name and something he or she enjoyed doing, and sat back down. It was simple, and by the end of the exercise we knew at least a little bit about every other kid. As the girl next to me sat down, I stood up and told every other nine-year-old at Camp Rae my name. Next I told them the only thing I enjoyed doing, the only thing I was actually good at, and frankly the only thing I didn’t quit within a week of starting: Irish dance.
Post-irony is real, and so what?
What we’re left with today is often called “post-irony,” although the term does a poor job of describing the state of things. We now have a smarter form of irony, irony used as a scalpel as opposed to a mallet. And it makes sense—even if irony can no longer serve its original purpose, it’s become such an integral part of American culture that it has become subtly embedded in everyday use.
Facebook: Trying to resist the universal influence
Facebook is a big part of my life—I can’t deny that. I, like many of my friends, check it obsessively, especially when procrastinating or waiting for someone to post pictures from last weekend. But since I haven’t yet found myself online chatting on a Friday night instead of going out to dinner with friends, it hasn’t seemed like a problem.