That’s fair enough. Like other great artists, Van Gogh, John Kennedy Toole and Jade Goody to name a few, I’m probably destined to be unappreciated in my own time. Sometimes believing in something is more important than being popular.
In fact this might prove to be quite offensive to some of you because I know you were directly involved in some of the things I’m going to talk about. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you any less. I’m just pointing some things out that you might want to discuss on your next therapy session.
There has been a proliferation recently of world record attempts around Ireland. Ordinary people gathering so that they can get into the tome of ultimate achievement. The most Where’s Wally’s, Smurfs, Santa’s or Pirates in one place have all been organised recently, as has the World’s largest Rock the Boat display, and I have to ask. What’s the fucking point?
It used to be that in order to get in the Guinness book of World Records you had to be the best at something or the first to an achievement. Skill, perseverance, endurance and, to quote Roy Castle, dedication is what you needed to be a record breaker.
Nowadays you just have to pay 15 euro for an outfit, slip on your striped jumper and hope that there are enough people desperate enough for validation, that your gathering counts as a record. There usually are.
But I think it’s more than a craving to be part of achieving a milestone. I suspect it has something to do with a need to be part of something, anything. Facebook and social networking have proven that it’s easy to garner the approval of your friends by joining or liking the same things as they do (I know this because it’s something that might be levelled at me.) So by joining one of these fancy dress frolics, there is a chance that strangers will recognise exactly how cool you are.
Before you tell me that it’s all just a bit of harmless fun and I need to chill, I suggest you hold off on your dismissal because it may be about to turn into indignation. While I have issues with pointless gatherings of people in matching outfits of stupidity, I downright abhor another organised event of thousands of people looking ridiculous. And this one is for actually done for charity.
There is something achingly hip and knowing about it all. Everyone knows they look stupid, but it’s ok because lots of people look just as stupid. Its irony, Dude. Post modern handlebar moustaches are paraded proudly and I’m supposed to sponsor these moustachioed Thomas Magnum wannabes.
If you want to look stupid in order to fundraise I will get behind you and help as much as I can, if your intentions are solely altruistic. Grow a porn industry standard nasal caterpillar in July. Doing it November just seems like you are trying to be part of something ‘bigger.’
I did say this might not be my most popular piece. So I’m faced with two options. I rant about it on the internet as is my usual style, or I come up some kind of counter to this ridiculous period. On the first of November 2011 I, John Holohan am going to start “Movember makes you look like a dick.”
Wearing a badge that has the initiatives slogan on it, I will approach everyone I see who is grooming the offensive face fuzz and inform them that Movember makes them look like a dick. I will solicit sponsorship and all funds raised will go towards a men’s health charity.
So come on, if you hate Movember and hipsters with moustaches let’s hear from you. Together we can make November a real month of the year again. Of course we may end up getting punched in the face for insulting people.
Maybe we could attempt record for the most people in a room with black eyes.
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