Misanthropology: VHS nostalgists

Misanthropology: VHS nostalgists

A casing only a mother could love.

The Dalai Lama would advise the modern man and woman to avoid those elements of daily life that cause stress or incite the spleen. Don't pay attention to that asshole barking into his Bluetooth at the back of the bus, for example. Don't like Joaquin Phoenix? Change the channel when Entertainment Tonight comes on.

But Gimme Noise offers a polite "fuck that" to His Holiness' approach to the 21st century. Here, if only in this tidy weekly blog feature, we politely invite you, good readers, to embrace that which makes you most gloriously human-- your ability to whine about meaningless parts of being alive.

Like VHS nostalgists, for example! We have all have that quirky friend. You know-- the one who takes wardrobe cues from Victoria Jackson. Scunchies and stretch pants and off-center pony tails. And there, just under her color 12 inch, a tidy stack of VHS tapes. Here's 5 tips on how to hate on this scourge of the information age.

1. Quit comparing VHS to vinyl records. It makes you look like a total asshole. Vinyl records are a superior product to their digital counterparts, and unlike that tape of Wayne's World 2 you place prominently on your coffee table (right next to your stack of Vice Magazines), they'll keep playing long after you spill a can of Jolt on them.

2. VHS tapes are keeping Rick Moranis' legacy alive. We all have fond memories of Parenthood. But for God's sake, do we need midnight screenings of Little Giants to lighten the mood at your ninja-themed party? Let the man die in peace.

3. The problem of pausing. Sorry. I'd love to see how Schindler's List ends too, but the tape broke in the five seconds it took you to grab another bottle of Cherry 7-Up out of the fridge.

4. Just because they sell it at Half Price Books doesn't mean it's good. They sell a bunch of Jimmy Buffet 8-tracks there too, you know.

5. Oh God. You collect Jimmy Buffet 8-tracks, too?  No, really, it's that burrito I ate. I think I better just head home. Yep, I'm sure.

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