Trendsetters

I've never been the least bit trendy.  At least, not during a trend.  So I can't understand when something is trendy, why it's trendy.

It's a blustery day out here in Las Vegas, where Mrs. Sarcasm and I are holed up for a time.  She suggested hot chocolate from Starbucks, but when we went in I noticed some apple caramel thingamabrew, which she ordered.  I, having stuck to the hot chocolate mandate, took a sip of hers.

"Mmm," I said.  "I may have made a mistake."  Then I looked into the crowd.  "But not nearly so big a mistake as that guy."

Some goober in his mid thirties was sporting a chicken topper for a hair do.  It was like a faux-hawk, but to call it that would give the guy more credit than his do deserved.  So I had to ask myself what would lead someone to such poor decision making?

We'd been in a store where the clerk was doing his best Jonas Brothers tribute, complete with brown flannel shirt, untucked from his blue jeans, and a white silk tie.  Now, I've seen these boys perform in their worst attire and I can not get it.  Their music: not good.  Fashion sense:  non-existent.  Are they good looking?  I'm a straight, so I don't know.  But I do know whatever you throw on the Disney channel sells.  Hannah Montana: bad actress.  Worse singer?  Again, I wouldn't know.  They don't play her, or the Jonas Brothers, on the stations I listen to.  But then, the stuff I like tends to run under the rails.  How many of you have heard of Chickenfoot?  Probably not many because good rock and roll ain't cool.  Which is really too bad because they just released the best record in the last two decades, and it might have gotten more notice if Michael Jackson hadn't gone and died two weeks after its release, stealing the music thunder from everybody.  Of course, in death, Jacko once again became trendy.

Meanwhile the rest of us regular folk meander along trying to make sense of these trends.  Take baby names.  For every Apple, Pilot Inspektor and Jermasjesty, there are quite a few Matts nobody's talking about.  Of course, when you've got teenage bullies named Denver Colorado, who cares about Matt?

So I'm thinking of making a change.  For nearly thirty-seven years I've been too uncool for smoking.  No more.  Maybe I'll get a faux-hawk.  And I'm thinking about a tattoo.  How about Robin, the frog?

Then again, maybe I'll just continue my clueless existence while setting future trends. 
And oh... yes I am.