Who the fuck is Chris Brown?

I was wandering around the Grand Canal Quay this evening when I came to realise I was completely surrounded by obnoxious teenagers. They had the place infested, so they did. I was beginning to suspect the last rations of fake tan and Bacardi Breezers were coming into the port, but no, they were there to see some lad by the name of “Chris Brown”. Apparently he was “playing” a “gig” at “the O2” (ok, I’m being unnecessarily sarcastic with those quotation marks. Still, it doesn’t matter how much money O2 gave some developer, everyone in Dublin refers to it as the Point and will continue to do so for some time yet).

I like to think I have my finger on the pulse of popular culture, so this put me in my place. This fucker swans into the country dragging behind him a cortège of haircuts and I don’t have the first fucking idea who he is. How could this pop sensation pass me by completely?

I think what’s bothering me the most is that I’ve been forced to realise I’m old, and that the generation with the authority to decide what’s cool is no longer my generation. Also, I can no longer moan about having never heard of the people who turn up on Celebrity Big Brother.

1 Response to “Who the fuck is Chris Brown?”

  1. January 14, 2009 at 9:59 pm

    In the strange land where I live, across the pond, in West Central Florida in the United States, it is actually mandatory to pay for cable television service. If you do not pay all or part of the quarterly homeowners’ association fees that include your cable television service, your $227,000 home that you own “free and clear” can be legally taken away by the government, who will then force you out onto to hot, black, unforgiving streets at gunpoint. This is the law that is enforced here, and unfortunately I am not kidding, joking, fabricating, or exaggerating. Despite this constant Orwellian threat, I try to avoid watching television completely, even though I live alone, unemployed, disengaged from society, even though some programs are marginally educational, or entertaining, in a dim sense of the word. But the service is there, it’s paid for, and my computer monitor has a built-in cable TV tuner. So every few days I brave the unbearably loud shouting and laser-white smiles of unbridled capitalist advertising, flipping through my hundred channels, hoping to steal a glimpse of this elusive, mythical Chris Brown. With the volume and brightness turned low, my eyes and ears can no longer feel the pain, only my soul. I trudge onward into the static, snow, and screaming. Was that him? In an inconspicuous black tuxedo, lurking quietly in the darkness of a seated audience at an awards show? Or was that Nelly, or perhaps ‘Al B Sure?’ How do I even know what to look for? None of my twenty-something or thirty-something friends have ever spoken a word of him, never have they uttered his name. I understand how he could fly under the radar in Dublin, but I lived in Atlanta last year! And now Tampa? Who the fuck is Chris Brown? Moving ever closer, I now have a general sense of Akon, T.I., even T-Pain. Why does this shadowy Brown continue to escape me? I fear a Wikipedia query would only increase his strange dark power. Using your post as inspiration on my quest for truth and light, I pledge to keep searching.

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January 2009
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