It was well into the evening of February 1, 2009 when the postmodern era finally collapsed - dead on arrival. It was over 40 years old. No one really knows because the birth certificate is in a hidden safe somewhere in the advertising industry archives.
Now, I'm sure you're asking: Why was this not in the New York Times? Why no Huffington Post? Where is the coverage? Well, to answer simply: I invented it.
It all started at the Super Bowl half-time show. Bruce Springsteen with his faux rock grin grabbed the microphone like a 70s Elvis. He told us to back away from the guacamole dip. He told us to drop our chicken wings to the floor. (Thankfully, he left the six foot "best sandwich ever" graciously provided by my evening's hosts out of these imperatives.) Then he launched into a collage of nostalgic proportions with choirs, fireworks and an overdone knee slide which sent his crotch barreling into the camera like a canon ball into a dilapidated housing project wall.
In other words, this was something new.
I haven't quite figured it out yet. It has something to do with depression economics, George W. Bush back in Texas and this 12-minute performance. The Boss elevated his mediocre bar band music to a phenomenal, overblown height. He ignored calls for irony. He ignored calls for authenticity. He reverted back to a modernist mindset and used Glory Days to reach for heaven.
I'm sure some older men cried. I know most had tears from laughter in my vicinity. Everyone was entertained. Bruce had traced the history of cheesy vegas bullshit music and then performed an action painting on top. It was America in the Obama era. It was America completely ignoring that we're (either on the verge or) in a depression, and that things are going to get a lot worse. We're no longer in the pomo muddle, where things waver in the middle, where things are reappropriated and remixed. We're in something after that; where bar bands are idols, where fireworks are authentic again and a football stadium with nearly 100,000 fans is a microcosm for a world being rocked and high fiving with KFC stained palms. We can feel the highs and lows again.
This is an extreme time.
