Original Column: The Emperor Has No Clothes

Note: It has come to my attention that some of the content of this blog may seem a little dry to certain groups of people, nay, to entire swaths of the population. To you I say this: You will continue to get what you pay for. However, I do have some stuff that's a little more fun, and I'd like to mix it in here and there.

This is one in a series of columns I wrote for a local newsletter in the past couple of years. The column was called The Brink of Normal, and was full of humor and truly fun for all ages. I have wanted to start republishing the columns here, and this seems a perfect time to start. This one's for you, America. And really for the whole english-speaking world.

The Emperor Has No Clothes!

Yes, I said it, and I’m not sorry. This has gone on long enough, and somebody had to get the truth out there. That’s how it always is. It always falls to those of us on the edges, at The Brink of Normal, to do the dirty work and be the first to say what you and everyone else is thinking.

Now the reason you don’t think I know what you were thinking is because somehow I started this column at the end and you have no idea what I’m talking about. You’re challenging me to tell you what you were thinking. Gotcha.

OK, here’s what we were all thinking: There is a no real difference between things that are stupid and things that are cool.

Most of you out there are probably freaked out that I read your mind. For those of you who may not have actually been thinking this exact thought, let me explain.

Here is a little boy in his front yard after a rain. He is inquisitive, he is young, he is eating snails. Is this cool? “No!”, we all shout! “This is disgusting! Someone stop the little boy and teach him not to eat snails!"

Meanwhile at a downtown restaurant whose name has more vowels than consonants a man is looking at a menu written completely in French. He summons the waiter, pronouncing his name easily, and expertly orders escargot for himself and the lady. She is impressed with his sophistication.

What is wrong with this picture? They are eating snails! The boy in his yard and the man at the restaurant are engaged in the same activity, and while one is taken to the doctor as a precaution the other enjoys his meal in high style. How can this be?

The answer lies deep in the human psyche. With our built-in desire for acceptance we try to choose a herd and follow wherever they may go. If someone is able to convince a leader that something is cool, the entire group will likely follow right along without a peep lest they be found unworthy of membership. This has been going on since long before the emperor was scammed by the people with the invisible clothes, and there is always a need for people like little children and yours truly to tell the herd what is what.

Now that I have exposed escargot for what it really is, I’d like to move on to that bastion of unthinking herd behavior we call fashion. From your local department store to designer runways in Milan the entire industry is all about leading-but still being a part of-the herd.

The problem with fashion is that you can’t escape it because you have to wear clothes, and no matter what you wear it makes a statement about who you are. That’s not a big problem if you like to make a statement, but I’m pretty much past that now and I just wear clothes because it separates me from the animals. My clothes are beginning to tell everyone that I haven’t cared about fashion since sometime in the last millennium.

Are you beginning to see what a racket we’re dealing with here? If I don’t pony up and buy whatever the fashion herd has anointed as cool, I am perceived as a cave-dweller or fuddy-duddy by everyone I meet. Fortunately for me my wife makes me stay reasonably fashionable, but what about all those people who don’t have someone to keep them in line? It’s an outrage.

For the people at the top of the fashion food chain things aren’t exactly hunky-dory either. How many actresses have attended a glitzy awards show wearing a $100,000 gown by a big name designer that appears to have been crafted from facial tissue and fishing tackle? Everybody stands around and says how the dress flatters her and the designer is a visionary, but in the back of their minds they’re wondering if that’s actually Kleenex and fishhooks.

And what about art? Perhaps you’ve seen one of those exhibits that appears to be a canvas salvaged from a paint factory explosion. The museum guide reverently explains that it was from a very bitter time in the artist’s life and that this work reflects a deep angst and anger unparalleled in any paintings of that period, which explains why it was appraised at 40 bazillion dollars. You suspect that it was created by a monkey on a motorcycle, but you say nothing.

So it seems that the only thing that separates the acceptable from the ridiculous is the majority’s belief that something is indeed acceptable. And this is why, when I see the latest crazy new thing, I again think to myself that the emperor does indeed have no clothes.

So now that you know the secret, you can change the world. The new world will be based on substance instead of style, reality instead of perception, steak instead of sizzle. I wish you luck in your quest.

If you need me I’ll be in the basement trying to make 40 bazillion bucks with my angst, anger and tempera paint.

filed: humor; column