How ’80s MTV Strips Me of My God Given Right to Ridicule BTS

hyperlinks excluded

When my kids made me watch Bad Lip Reading’s YouTube video Sample of My Pasta, I thanked them because I like to laugh and thought it was messed up in a funny way.

Then they made me watch the video that had been parodied: Idol by superific international boy band BTS.

It was messed up.

Period.

If you’ve seen it, you know what I mean.

If you haven’t, you can go search, but I don’t recommend it. (I refuse to provide a link because I choose love.)

I can say lots of things about BTS and other teen sensationistas rolling off the assembly line at the one-stop hip-hop K-Pop birthin’ factory, but I won’t.

Nope.

You don’t crack wise on current pop culture while breathing coherent humans can still attest to your anglo-spazzin’ at the high school prom to Rock Lobster.

So I resist the urge to go off like Judge Dad who to this day asks me the same loaded questions about Boy George.

I’m cooler than that.

Nay. Instead, I submit more evidence as to why I, a proud Gen-X’r raised on a rich ‘80s punk/alt/new wave diet, decided to become the first senior ambassador to the Trans-Generational Agency for the Protection of the Sanctity of the Privilege of Absurd Youth Outrageousness (TGAPSPAYO* ).

(*easily recalled with mnemonic The Good Alderman Prepares Seven Perfectly Adequate Yellow Onions)

Here are exhibits A, B and C: three cringealicious videos from the ’80s in chronological order.

[Note: Images below are NOT LINKED since I’m not one to swig spoiled milk from a carton, hand it over and ask “does this taste bad?”]

The Police: Synchronicity II (1983)

stop trying to click on it

I was a Police super-fan.

Then the band gifted the world with this hootenanny.

Set Design: towers of old drum equipment, hat boxes and Fisher-Price toys epoxied together by second graders

Wardrobe: thunderdome haute couture

Hair: muffin-top

SFX: wind machine; swirling debris deflected by Sting’s jawline

Theme: apocalypse o’ clock

This was bad TV. It was set to good music, but still bad.

By the time Sting’s reflection in the camera lens sends him fleeing into a shallow pit of scones, you’ve already deciphered the message hidden in the cryptic lyrics:

Time to go solo.

Duran Duran: Wild Boys (1984)

still clicking aren’t you

’80s teens couldn’t get enough post-apocalypse in their media.

It was the only way to neutralize the chemical effects of Pop Rocks, Jolt cola and overwhelming positivity in our future.

In fear of losing dystopia-hungry fans, Duran Duran got all scruffy and met with a visionary director fresh out of the Ed Wood School of WTF Cinema.

“Boys! I’ve got the jalopy from Beverly Hillbillies, some interpretive dancers, a monster-baby hand puppet, a gimpy animatronic head and a guy who kinda knows pyrotechnics!”

To which Simon replied “Let’s do the magic!”

The only things missing were stock footage of stampeding buffalo and Lugosi beseeching “PULL THE STRING!”

Mick Jagger / David Bowie: Dancing in the Street (1985)

oh baby just you shut your mouth

In this post-apocalyptic ditty, Jagger and Bowie play sole survivors who must devise an innovative way to repopulate the planet.

Answer?

Pure razzmatazz.

Look, these guys had already been handed their musical legend and rock icon badges. No way you could screw up an MTV duet, right?

Right?

I think it played out like this:

Record Exec: Oy! Mick and Dave ‘ave a free hour!

Young Director: Oy! Let me ‘ave a go with ‘em!

Record Exec: Whuyagonnado?

Young Director: Dunno. Let ’em muck about?

Record Exec: Oy!

So Mick arrives on set having just shopped Chess King but Bowie shows up in his wham-bam jammies to which a young director cleverly reacts by lending him his trench coat.

The Sesame Street studio was available.

Lights. Camera.

Dance!

And history was made.

No thank you, m’am.

So there you have it.

Humbling proof of why I must renounce my adult claim to blindly bash young scary fast-moving pop artists I just don’t understand.

No need to go dox me or anything.

I’ve done the work for you.

Mission complete.

Finito.

What’s that you’re googling?

"Hi. My name is Roy." - Now that just sounds stupid. (thehappysidestep@gmail.com)

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