Cheers & Jeers

Drew Acquaviva, Staff Writer

This week’s Cheers and Jeers will have a fun little theme to it, in that I’m only doing three topics and I’m going to both cheer them and jeer them. I’m afraid that you only get one side of a story when you read my column, so this time I’m going to be as fair and balanced as Fox News and present both sides of the topic at hand. By that I of course mean that I’m probably going to be more biased than normal.

 

CHEERS to sex

Here’s the thing: people love sex. True story. Having sex with someone (including yourself) is a fundamental part of being human. It’s healthy, it’s fun and it even counts as exercise for some people. Of course, there are some things that can go wrong (for example, it’s not fun if it’s like a desert in one’s mouth), but overall, sex is a great way to have fun or connect to someone, or both. In the past, it was difficult to find a person who enjoyed sex the way you do. That could mean an anonymous one night stand or somehow involves a bicycle pump. Nowadays, however, there’s this lovely thing called the Internet where you can find whole chat rooms and forums dedicated to bicycle pump sex (that’s what I’ve heard, anyway … ). One of the best parts about sex is the subtle ways we manage to talk about it. Don’t believe me? Go back and re-read my cheer to washing machines from a few weeks ago. Still don’t believe me? Go watch any Disney movie from your childhood now that you can get all the references.  Yes, Cheers and Jeers just ruined your childhood, but it was for a good cause.

 

JEERS to sex:

While the actual act of sex may be fun, Mother Nature basically set it up so that it doesn’t matter how you do it, you just need to conclude the act with a healthy dose of guilt with a resentment chaser. That extra requirement makes for an almost 100 percent chance of awkwardness when it comes to sex. To prove this point, I invite you to sit in any classroom where sex is the topic of discussion. You’ll quickly be able to cut the awkwardness with a knife. Sex can even be awkward before it happens. You could accidentally hit on someone with a different sexual orientation than you and then it’s that thing where you move out of the Townhouses and take up residence under a rock. Sex just has too much responsibility attached to it. You have to make sure that it’s being done safely. A friends with benefits scenario may work (according to every rom-com this year), but even that option is a chore because it’s such an unstable situation. To sum up, “Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die! Don’t have sex in the missionary position, don’t have sex standing up, just don’t do it, OK, promise? OK, now everybody take some rubbers.

 

CHEERS to drugs:

I’ll admit that I’m not a heavy connoisseur of most drugs. I like to stick to the basics: heroin, cocaine and crystal meth. When I run out of those, however, I go to the most readily accessible drug: alcohol. Alcohol is great because that’s what the television tells me. Alcohol has been with people forever. It was the drink of choice in ancient times because the water available would kill you with one of a million diseases. Nowadays, we use alcohol for the purposes of something called a “party” (if you’re old and boring, those are called “shindigs”). They make these social gatherings more fun because things become more entertaining when completely hammered slightly inebriated. It helps make memories (or in some unfortunate extreme cases, erase them) and is a great way to feel like a grown-up.

JEERS to drugs:

As far as hard drugs are concerned, I’d like to start by saying “Crack is whack!” and suggest you go watch a marathon of “Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew” and you’ll be all set. As in the cheer to drugs, I’m going to refer to the drug that I’m most familiar with: alcohol. I’ll repeat what my (now horribly cluttered) Facebook said last week: A hangover is your body’s way of telling you your friends were right. If there’s anything worse than a hangover, it would have to be people’s tips of preventing or remedying hangovers and their unending desire to share them with people who aren’t listening or even conscious. There are worse things than hangovers, though (besides that pesky alcohol-poisoning that causes death). Over the summer, a friend of mine, whose name did not rhyme with “Schmeers and Jeers,” developed what he thought was strep in his throat but what was actually a type of yeasty growth that flourishes on alcohol. Yes, dear readers, this man drank so much he got a yeast infection in this throat. If that’s not enough to warrant a jeer, I don’t know what is.

 

CHEERS to rock ‘n’ roll:

If not for a man by the name of Alan Freed, we wouldn’t have this wonderful culture known as rock ‘n’ roll. This genre of music has the benefit of being so diverse that everyone can find a song they like. Not only does it cover diverse topics (well, mostly the songs are about sex, drugs or itself) but since it spans over 50 years, it’s universally enjoyed. Groups like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones legitimized your obsession with 20 minute jam sessions in your garage. The amazing innovation of glam rock allowed for groups like Kiss to redefine what a performance could be: an awkwardly successful combination between drag show and rock concert. Nowadays, the rock genre can crop up anywhere. Lady GaGa has a couple of songs that can be clearly defined as rock songs (which is a healthy reprieve because usually nobody has any idea what she’s doing, let alone what to call it). Certainly, rock will always be around, and we can forever count on people to screw it up. I’m talking to you, Daughtry.

 

JEERS to rock ‘n’ roll:

I gotta admit, it’s pretty difficult to write this jeer, but I said that I would give both sides of the story so here goes. Part of what makes rock ‘n’ roll so good is also what makes it bad: the fact that it is so loosely bordered. If there’s an electric guitar and singing, it’s a rock song (one just begging to cash in on millions more with its acoustic remix). Which brings me to the real problem: while rock ‘n’ roll itself may be so unbounded that people can make a song about elevator sex and it’ll be a huge hit, the larger problem is that we, the listeners, don’t get to define what good music is. Instead, we’re told what good music sounds like by the record companies that produce the music. This hip new thing called the “Internets” gives us somewhat easier access to underground or lesser-known music, but ultimately the people are at the whim of people who don’t know the first thing about music and probably should be forced to listen to Rebecca Black’s “Friday” on repeat for the rest of their lives as an apology to the entire human race for even producing it.