Last week, beat pal Jimmy Palmiotti shared the above link with us, and we enjoyed it mightily.
And then we got to thinking about the days when Bollywood musicals and their rapturous innocence were a secret underground thing. You had to live near the Indian cinema or near an Indian neighborhood to even know about them, Benny Lava.
Once upon a time you had to have cool friends who told you about a cool new remix or Sammo Hung or confess that they collected Fischer Price little people. And when you learned about such things you were in a secret little club and you felt cool about it. But it didn’t, like, take over your life.
And then came the Internet. Then came Taiwanese legislature brawls all over the place.
Is nothing sacred? Is nothing secret anymore?
The other day The Beat was walking around the Lower East Side with her gal pals of many years, and we observed how many fun times we’d had in the past. Granted we’re all old and out of it, but nobody seems to be going to the kinds of secret clubs and raves we used to enjoy. I mean now it’s all one big mailing list. Our pal Elim did point out a secret place to get great food that we’d never heard of, but we’d sooner die than reveal it here on the Internet.
We’ve sort of posted about this before, on and off. And our alarm was heightened when we awoke the other day to an interview on the Brian Lehrer show with a lady named Maggie Jackson who wrote a book called Distracted: The Erosion of Attention and the Coming Dark Age and she mentioned how we’re “trapped on the surface” of everything and now lack the comprehension skills to analyze anything. We’ll drink to that because this post has already veered seriously off course aside from an overwhelming feeling of overall dread about everyone knowing who Sammo Hung is and having to dig deeper and deeper and deeper to get to the cool. God help us, we’ll probably die trying, Benny Lava.