Life advise for pretentious fucks
How To Be Cool
True cool is pure acceptance, not knobhead hipster behaviour
Some time ago I was catching up with a young friend.
She was telling me how she loves her partner but has issues with his best friend. When I asked her what the problem was, she said that the guy just wasn’t cool.
She told me he didn’t know how to join in their conversations intellectually, his clothes were very daggy, and he tried too hard to fit in. She said that her friends cringed whenever the kid spoke or did anything.
Obviously, we had a good talk.
The other day, I was having lunch at a well-known band venue in Melbourne.
Band venues are often welcoming, but in this case, the guy behind the bar had no fucking sense of humour because he was too busy noticing who was admiring his t-shirt of some band that I have never heard of and couldn’t give a fuck about.
I was there with my wife and my parents, who are now in their early seventies and he didn’t go out of his way to make us feel welcome because we weren’t welcome. We were made to feel right out of place.
Because I was with my parents, I behaved myself.
What I wanted to do was explain to the little pretentious ring licker that I could whip any of his fucking pipsqueak mates on guitar and that he wouldn’t know what cool was if it smashed him in the teeth.
No, actually, what I really wanted to do was smash him in the teeth.
Is it cool to have missing teeth these days? I wouldn’t know, but it would be interesting to find out what a little hipster fuck like him thought about it.
Anyway, CALM DOWN FRANK. That’s what my wife always says.
On the other hand, I empathise.
Cos as a young person, you have fuck all idea about what cool even means.
You think it means wearing the right clothes, saying the right things, having the right haircut.
You think it means saying that’s cool, man when you should say congratulations, or you think it means sniffing a half-laugh at the embarrassing behaviour of the poor bastard in the corner who everyone is ignoring.
Teenagers have an excuse — they are mostly post-pubic knobheads.
But anyone over twenty-five doesn’t. If the above describes you and you are of age, listen up.
The coolest guy I ever knew was named Clive
Now, if you are a serious bellend, you might think that Clive isn’t cool because of the make-believe name that his parents gave him.
You would be wrong.
I was fifteen when I first met Clive, and he taught me the true meaning of cool.
We were at a party that was full of try-hard fuck knuckles trying to impress the girls with their coca-cola spinners and their Reebok Pumps but ya know it was the early nineties so whatever.
A young fella called Mike had these sneakers on which were known as ‘Tesco tearaways’. Essentially they were cheap sneakers with velcro and I saw a few people looking at them and laughing. There was some dumb conversation about Nirvana or Pearl Jam happening, and Mike kept piping in with stupid comments.
Kids turned away and smirked, whispering to each other like greasy weasels. Girls would snigger and slag Mike off behind his back.
Clive was the coolest of kids.
He wasn’t that good looking but the girls fancied him anyway. I noticed Clive because he never rejected Mike at all. Clive nodded, listening intently to everything Mike said, no matter how stupid it was. Clive responded to everything like a true gentleman.
Afterwards, everyone planned to go somewhere else cool, and they were making efforts to ensure Mike never knew about it. When everyone stood up to leave, Clive walked over to Mike and said, ‘let’s go’. He made sure Mike came with us.
A genuinely cool bastard
I never spoke to Clive. I had no need. Clive was seventeen, but I noticed a level of cool that was unique compared to the others.
Clive didn’t give a fuck about his clothes, and somehow that made his clothes fashionable. He never tried to impress anyone, which made everyone impressed by him.
So when he outright made sure that Mike was accepted into the group, everyone followed, and Mike became part of the group.
When Clive nodded and took Mike’s stupid comments seriously and made him feel included, I realised that’s what cool people do.
The genuine cool people dress for themselves. They don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks, and yet, they understand the precious nature of every single being, and they do what they have to do to make sure everyone is protected and looked after.
Don’t be a fucking pretentious bellend
If you want to know how to be cool. The answer is this.
Stop trying to fit in.
The world needs more freaks. We are fucking experts at replicating each other like biological 3D printers and if that's cool, then the whole motherfucking world is cool. Which it isn’t.
If you give a fuck even slightly what someone thinks about you, you are not cool. You are a pretentious knobhead.
Stop copying what others do because you are afraid of not being included.
I don’t mean you should hide in a corner either. If someone comments on your independence, there is a standard phrase to be used. Repeat after me:
Fuck you, you fucking goat shagging prick.
But to take it to the next level, be more like Clive
Always protect every single being like they are your very own brother and sister regardless of how freaky or strange they are.
I’m talking people, animals, plants. Fucking everyone.
Make a vow right now. Repeat after me:
May I never bring harm to a single being for the rest of existence. May the part of me that hurts others be destroyed forever and may I only bring protection, peace, happiness and liberation to all beings from now on, for eternity.
Repeat it every damn day until it becomes your reality.
That is the true definition of cool.
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