The Fourth Kind

I’m nearly finished with the first year of my essay project, and after resolving last January to write an essay each week for a whole year, I’m nearing my first successful completion of any such New Years’ resolution. Looking back on the compendium of rants, raves and general irreverence that was my 2009, I’ve noticed a few things: (1) I have a penchant for lists of three, (2) I’ve left out some really good fourths, and (3) I never really revisit any topics - even after friends and family have commented on them and I’ve had a chance reflect and rethink. So, as an homage to the year that was, I’ve decided to unveil my top three fourths, er, not my top three quarters - well, you get what I mean.

So here they are - a year in review, of the things I left out:

Eyes, Eyes, Baby (A “fourth” for Shades of Lame)

Almost immediately after I published Shades of Lame, I realized that I had forgotten one of the most egregious and ridiculous sunglasses-related behaviors around, and with good reason. This particular bit of nonsense is not only not restricted to just southern California but I’m also fairly certain that it didn’t even start here. Every time I see this, I’m baffled by where such a trend may have originated, and how anyone might think that it actually looks o.k., let alone cool. And for what it’s worth, I’ve only ever seen this done by men - so ladies you’re off the hook (though your shades are all still way too big). I’m want to even come up with an adequately descriptive name for this eyewear inanity - but for now I think I’ll go with “high eyes”.

This is the practice of wearing one’s sunglasses just above your eyes, but still on your face. Now mind you, this is not wearing your sunglasses on top of your head; which while inadvisable and juvenile at least has some marginal amount of utility. But I can discern no practical purpose for leaving your shades on your face but not on your eyes. What’s more, it looks positively absurd - the same sort of absurd that I normally reserve for loud, bolt-on exhaust pipes on economy cars and skinny jeans for men.

After a brief survey, the leading candidates for answers to the proverbial and obvious question “WHY?” are the following:

1. While not necessarily needing the visual protection, the “high eyes” wearer still wants the fashion impact of their obviously cool shades;
2. Because you truly never know when the ambient light will become too much to bear, the “high eyes” wearer wants to minimize the time and effort involved in getting his sunglasses back over his eyes; or
3. Much like the Luna Moth, the “high eyes” practitioner is displaying a larger, douchier false set of eyes to scare off predators.

I personally think it’s the last one, and the fact that it also scares off attractive females, prospective employers, and anyone other than like-minded douche-moths is just an unfortunate side effect.

Putting the Der in Under (a "fourth" for A Healthy Dose of Shame)

To be honest, when I wrote A Healthy Dose of Shame, it was difficult to pare down the list of ludicrous gym behaviors down to just three. Because when the rest of the world has a problem where the self-absorbed attention-starved by-products of two generations of universal over-praising and over-investment of children in their own non-existent “specialness” has finally overcome any previously existing notions of good sense and decorum, and created a steady rain of unbelievably awkward moments and laughable scenes; Los Angeles will turn that rain into a hurricane of ill-informed pomposity, illegitimate arrogance and nearly unimaginable loss of individual perspective. And, on my very next trip to the gym, I realized that I had left out one very important shamelessly douche-tastic gym behavior: the Under Armor wearer.

For the uninitiated, Under Armour is a brand of sportswear which specializes in form-fitting (i.e. skin tight) undergarments that wick moisture away from the skin of athletes to avoid the discomfort of sweaty clothing. It was founded by, is built for and is primarily marketed to football players. It is designed to be worn under the pads, jerseys, equipment, etc. that athletes wear. And much like the name indicates, and much like its predecessor, just plain old underwear - it is not designed to be worn on its own as a primary garment. However, despite all this, not a visit to gym goes by where I don’t seem muscle-choad meathead doing just this. Because nothing says unmitigated badassery like a long-sleeved white spandex shirt, right?

Listen, even if you do have the sort of chiseled physique that can stand up to the unforgiving exposure that such a garment will provide (which, for the record, the vast majority of these cheesewads don’t), this just doesn’t look good. Because, just like it used to, skin tight clothing is the best way to let people know you’re trying too hard since the flop sweat. For the record, if you’re in good shape, it’s easy to notice, no matter what you’re wearing - and you'll look even better in something simple that everyone else is wearing, but just not quite as well as you. Do us all a favor: leave the spandex back in the 80’s where it belongs, and find a damned t-shirt.

Speaking A Loud (a "fourth" for The Golden Yield)

When I wrote The Golden Yield, I was catalyzed by the brutish and moronic behavior which seemed to surround modern-day elevator etiquette, and when I sat down to think about other examples of poor-mannered and self-centered conduct - they literally came flooding into my mind. I highlighted the three most prominent examples, but in the intervening months, I realized there was one very important one that I left out.

I’m not quite sure how or when the public at large started losing any real sense of the volume of their voices, but I am sure that in the past year, I’ve overheard vastly more conversations that I would have liked to, and as luck would have it, the inanity of these colloquies is always directly proportional to their volume. On airplanes, I have distinctly heard conversations multiple rows away over the roar of thousand horsepower engines and constant ventilation (and most recently through state-of-the-art noise canceling headphones). In coffee shops I have listened to mindless ramblings from dozens of feet away, despite being turned away, over the subtle din of other, quiet conversations, and through my iPod headphones. And in restaurants, I have endured alarmingly futile attempts at humor and over-eager sales pitches despite being so far away from the offending speaker that I wouldn’t even be able to hit them with well aimed steak knife (which I was then contemplating).

Here’s a hint: if you’re wondering why strangers keep turning around and glaring at you while you’re talking, it’s not because they’re eavesdropping, it’s because they wish they’re weren’t! Unless you’re conversing with a person who’s either deaf or dead, there’s no appreciable reason for you to be talking that loudly. Do us all a favor and do like your mom told you, and talk with your inside voice.

* * *

In the end, it’s a been a year of maddeningly frustrating behaviors, comically unaware douchebaggery, and one man’s struggle to keep from losing his tenuous grip on his quickly waning sanity in the face of apocalyptic-level stupidity. It’s been a year of finding a good reason to laugh amidst a good reason to cry and, more importantly, a good reason to cry amidst a good reason to laugh. And looking back on a year’s worth of essays, I found that while there were things that I missed, it’s been a pretty good year of hits. So I’ll close out 2009 with the top 3 things I learned this year, and leave it to you, dear reader, to send me a great fourth: 1. Inspiration, opportunity and salvation are not only not rare, they're all around you if you just take a look; 2. Though the latest generations will likely give us little else of value, they've at least given us something to laugh at; and 3. As doomsayers, fearmongers, and prophets of the terrible become all the rage, relax, things are going to work out just fine.

Happy New Year, everyone.