Why? Fucking why? Goddamnit. Goddamnit straight to hell. This isn’t acceptable in decent society. Hell, it isn’t acceptable in the jungle. This isn’t acceptable in war. It isn’t acceptable during a meth-fueled orgy in a Bakersfield squatter camp. And I don’t care if it is acceptable in north Jersey, because New Jersey isn’t fucking acceptable (except my handful of friends from Jersey, you’re all lovely, despite growing up in America’s arm pit). This faux hardass look combined with the utterly atrocious finger signage has got to stop. If not for me, then for the children. Do we want the next generation growing up thinking we were all such screaming assholes that we couldn’t get a photo-op done any longer with mere smiles, hand waves or vertical peace signs? That we were all so much fucking better than life that our only recourse was to purse our lips up like they’d just been hit with 1,000 cc’s of Botox? I don’t know what wigger, white trash corncob with stripes shaved into the side of his haircut invented this horseshit, but there’s a special place in hell for him. You wanna do sideways peace signs in photos? Move the fuck to Serbia. You’ll fit right in. Do you want historians to unearth your smoky, metallic, wannabe artsy Instagram photos 3,000 years from now and conclude unanimously, “It appears the ancients were douchebags”? Well neither do I. So shoot your Red Bull and Failure, turn to face the camera, and smile. Leave your hands at your side. Unless they are on someone’s tit or twig-n-berries, they add nothing to the shot.
The embarrassing phenomenon will occur no less than 1 million times across the planet this New Year’s Eve. If you are posing for a candid tonight and the thought occurs to you, “I am the coolest mutherfucker in this line up. No one else even compares. But what if the world at large doesn’t know this? They can’t glean that information from a mere snapshot. I need to lean back, purse my lips, and throw a sideways peace sign in front of my chest. Then they’ll know. They’ll all know that I am fucking awesome beyond measurable statistics. I don’t care about shit, everyone thinks I’m hard as fuck, and I crush so much opposite sex genitalia that I probably have a sweet nickname like ‘Crusher’. They must know.” don’t act on that impulse. Just put your hand down and be a participant in the photo, not an actor. Then go outside and walk into traffic.
I probably have some friends who do this shit and they might be offended. Consider this tough love.