In da club

Suppose a friendly life form from the other side of the Milky Way decides to check out this swirly blue planet across the galaxy called Earth. It looks like a nice, deserted place to vacation. As he approaches in his space ship, he is pleasantly surprised to see satellites and space stations, and relishes the possibility of making intergalactic friends. He eagerly turns on his speakers to hear transmissions from the locals, and pop radio tells him everything he knows about the inhabitants on the planet. He decides to check out that red planet next door instead.

If your sole input for life goals, meaning, and purpose come from pop music and media, you would think that life is all about what happens “in da club”.  Looking sexy, rolling with friends, losing control, and getting low on the dance floor is what life is about. After all, you were born this way. You might live in this illusion for a brief season, but real life disagrees.

If our alien friend would have landed, he would have discovered that pop radio is nothing more than a curious facade that benefits a segment of the economy more than it benefits reality. Real life stretches far beyond the club in all directions. There is vocation, learning, purpose, meaning, family, and endless other facets of life that have precious nothing to do with being “hot”.  Pop radio has it wrong--even ugly people can have a great life on this planet.

What happens “in da club” is a blip. All the flexing, name-branding, spray tanning, and intoxication is a sliver slice of the pie of life.  “Da club” agenda is a misguided notion force fed you by an industry that ranks its own needs over yours. You can live in its vaporous reality for a transient moment, but eventually you’ll be ejected from the club. Sooner than later, the bouncer of real life will toss you on the sidewalk.

Maybe our energies are better spent on life “out da club”. Maybe the next intergalactic traveler will risk landing.