Surely it's time we ask our millennial tribe (or are they a squad?) to give a certain phrase a Viking's funeral. And that is: "My bad." There's nothing less satisfying than hearing that phrase? Not familiar with it? Allow me. When a young lad screws up and the screw-up is exposed, the lad will utter,"my bad" through painfully bored eyes.
I believe that during my lifetime Webster's dictionary will have a long form entry for the calorie deprived phrase:
An empty two-word colloquialism used by youths as a half-assed admission of a fuck-up but far from an apology—the youth's intent is to move off the subject at hand and avoid a well deserved impending lecture from a member of the Gen X or Baby Boomer generation.
As an example let's say the Simmons family is about to embark on a six-hour road trip for a vacation. Teenager Timmy Simmons locks the keys in the car by accident. When his father Robert, whose loving wife Ginny calls Bob, arrives on the scene Bob cries, "Damn it Timmy, if I told you once I told you a thousand times, 'be sure not to lock the keys in the damn car!'
"Oops, my bad," says Timmy through sleepy eyes.
"My bad, doesn't cut it son, you need to focus and start taking—"
"I said 'my bad'! Jesus dad, you're so Extra!"
'My bad' simply blows, to use my own lingo. Every generation head-shakes at the one coming up behind it and enjoys the pleasure of handing down a lecture as a result of a screw-up. It's tradition for god sakes. But this current young generation feels they get a pass because the ear buds are in and a whispered 'my bad' is the get-out-of-lecture free pass. In plane speak 'My badders': we are well aware of the screw-up and whose bad it is. In fact, we often wait a patient three Mississippi count while you figure out that you've messed up and deliver the anorexic phrase. Meaning, you don't need to tell us Jack, we know you fu@$ed up. Apologize, fix it and learn from it.
Next time you're on your phone, knee deep in a game of Fortnite and are about to absentmindedly lock the keys in the car think it through... and don't! Heck, maybe we'll toss you an atta boy! Because if you don't bullet this habit, you're looking at a future where twenty years down the road, you're happily married, yet you start messing around with the hot young nanny. When your loving wife walks in on the scene you mumble, "Oops, my bad."
When that happens don't be surprised if you find a pair of rusty scissors plunged into your back between the shoulder blades. And as you bleed out you'll finally hear that lovely tune coming your way from your dear sweet wife's lips, "Whoops, sorry Timmy, my bad!"
I believe that during my lifetime Webster's dictionary will have a long form entry for the calorie deprived phrase:
An empty two-word colloquialism used by youths as a half-assed admission of a fuck-up but far from an apology—the youth's intent is to move off the subject at hand and avoid a well deserved impending lecture from a member of the Gen X or Baby Boomer generation.
As an example let's say the Simmons family is about to embark on a six-hour road trip for a vacation. Teenager Timmy Simmons locks the keys in the car by accident. When his father Robert, whose loving wife Ginny calls Bob, arrives on the scene Bob cries, "Damn it Timmy, if I told you once I told you a thousand times, 'be sure not to lock the keys in the damn car!'
 |
| My Bad... |
"Oops, my bad," says Timmy through sleepy eyes.
"My bad, doesn't cut it son, you need to focus and start taking—"
"I said 'my bad'! Jesus dad, you're so Extra!"
'My bad' simply blows, to use my own lingo. Every generation head-shakes at the one coming up behind it and enjoys the pleasure of handing down a lecture as a result of a screw-up. It's tradition for god sakes. But this current young generation feels they get a pass because the ear buds are in and a whispered 'my bad' is the get-out-of-lecture free pass. In plane speak 'My badders': we are well aware of the screw-up and whose bad it is. In fact, we often wait a patient three Mississippi count while you figure out that you've messed up and deliver the anorexic phrase. Meaning, you don't need to tell us Jack, we know you fu@$ed up. Apologize, fix it and learn from it.
Next time you're on your phone, knee deep in a game of Fortnite and are about to absentmindedly lock the keys in the car think it through... and don't! Heck, maybe we'll toss you an atta boy! Because if you don't bullet this habit, you're looking at a future where twenty years down the road, you're happily married, yet you start messing around with the hot young nanny. When your loving wife walks in on the scene you mumble, "Oops, my bad."
Comments
Post a Comment