Monday, November 4, 2013

Top Gun and Why I Have No Friends.




I may have had a small epiphany in class tonight that helps to explain why I seem to be having so much trouble relating to the Millennials who seem to surround me much of the time now in grad school.

On break I was having a conversation with a couple of guys about the film “Top Gun”. One of the guys was nearly my age and the other was much younger, probably twenty-five. When I made an offhand comment about how “Top Gun” is one of the most homoerotic movies ever made (which I thought was simply understood by all humans as fact), the guy my age just laughed but the younger guy seemed almost offended, as if it was unthinkable to think such a thing. And this guy is an English grad student who has - by virtue of being an English grad student - been specifically trained to unpack the meanings and innuendos of texts (be them books or movies or whathaveyou).

Anyway, a lightbulb went off in my head and I realized that my finely honed rhetorical device of hyperbolic opinionation is not understood to be ironically humorous.

Is it possible that all those post-9/11 articles I remember scoffing at, which sincerely postulated the new Post-Ironic Age were actually TRUE and ACCURATE!

Well obviously I don’t know how to live in such a world and am at this moment trying to conceive of the most ironic way to kill myself. At the moment I’m torn between leaping from a Disney cruise ship or suffering a heart attack caused by too much happiness.

Now, there is always the possibility that I’m just not funny. But who are we kidding? That’s not a real possibility.

Though I will admit to you that much of my life consists of having my personal sense of humor confused by others as a form of glibness. This is probably why part of me usually feels like I’m Oscar Wilde hanging out with a bus-load of Jesuits. Granted that, I’m not terribly bothered by the fact I seem to have trouble getting along with the younger students around me. It is just a new experience for me, given that I’m so accustomed to people just loving the hell out of me. (Can you tell I’m a middle child? Because maybe by me telling you that everyone loves the hell out of me I am able to displace your feelings in such a way that choosing not to love the hell out of me places you at odds with all of civilization? Man, my imaginary therapist is going to have a lot to say about that.)

Oh, also, just in case it needs to be said - which apparently it does - "Top Gun" is one of the most homoerotic movies ever made. While I have no problem with homoeroticism, I do take some issue with homoeroticism that feels the need to hide itself behind the machismo of frat boy versions of male masculinity. That’s one of the reasons I have so much trouble watching football: all of that man flesh slapping together because a bunch of 300 pound dudes are fighting about which end the balls go in. Come on.


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