People who work for Street have a reputation for being too cool for school. We're typecast, really, as people who will listen only to the indiest of indie rock and read every new Dave Eggers book.
For the most part, that's not true, or at least not for me. My friend Marc tells me I'm not as "artsy" as everyone else who works at Street.
I think he just means I dress poorly and appreciate Justin Timberlake.
But I think that sometimes I fit in with the supposed Street mold, lashing out in anger when one of my "underground" obsessions becomes mainstreamed.
I can think of one case specifically, actually. Let me make this clear: Dave Chappelle was mine first.
And I want him back.
I was walking down Spruce Street at some point this weekend. More details than that, I can't recall -- I seem to think it was night, but it could have been day. It also may not have been Spruce. I also could have made up the whole thing. But that's not the point.
The point is at some time this weekend, during one of the 24 hours in one of the days, I was walking somewhere on or near campus when something horrifying happened. Or I dreamed it.
Anyway.
So this horrifying thing that happened: I'm walking down the street when I hear someone yell.
"YEAHHHHHHHH!"
And someone else responded.
"HO-KAY!"
And then one more.
"H-WHAT?"
And suddenly the street was filled with the sound of drunken Penn students doing their best impression of Dave Chappelle doing his best Lil' Jon impression.
I saw Half Baked when it was still in theaters, goddamnit.
I had a tape of Chappelle's HBO special, "Killing Em Softly," that my friends and I passed around when some of you were still in junior high.
And I watched "Chappelle's Show" last season before any of you poseurs jumped on the bandwagon.
I'm not trying to stand in my man Dave's way. I'm all for him finally getting his paper.
But I don't really have anything to do during reading week or finals, so I have a favor to ask you all. For a week, two would be even better, can I have him back?
Please. I'm begging you.
Stop imitating Lil' Jon. Stop imitating President Black Bush.
For just a week.
Stop saying, "I'm Rick James, bitch," as if it's funny and original.
More to the point, absolutely stop saying, "I'm Wayne Brady, bitch."
Give me my Dave back.
Skeet, skeet, skeet, skeet, -Alex
