Rock is dead. (At least rocking.)
A headline from yesterday read, "Hilary Clinton Rocks A Hair Clip" with an accompanying article and picture of the Secretary Of State looking like a festooned mall rat circa 1991 due to an 89 cent plastic comb securing her unkempt hair. What bothers me more than the hair clip is the headline. Rocking? No matter how good of a job you think Clinton is doing or how much respect you have for her, there is nothing "rocking" about her look.
As a matter of fact, I'm going to disco burn the phrase "rocking" right now. It's hereby retired. When someone used to say something "rocked" it meant that it was edgy, vogue and executed with the confidence of a worshiped musical genius slinging sex around like whip. Just like "amazing
" and "over the moon
" the term "rocking" has jumped the shark and ain't coming back. Overused. Killed. Meaningless.
Take for example, mini vans. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that read "Mini Vans Rock!" anchored to a mobile ship full of scrubbed-clean kiddos on their way to expensive lessons. While it may be productive and gleefully inside the moral code, there is nothing rocking about this scenario, folks. Nothing. As a matter of fact, driving a mini-van is the opposite of setting a guitar on fire as a crescendo of screams sends a topless audience into a fit of frenzy.
Look, I'm a mom too. I'm also a preschool teacher, a blogger (sorry bloggers, we're the d-list of media) and I drive a giant non-rocking wagon with plenty of safety features at exactly the speed limit. I hang out at church. I eat nutritious meals and make it to bed by 10:00 PM. I have retired my tube tops, fishnets and naked romps in the Viagra Triangle fountain and I would never, ever be offended that someone did not use the term rocking to describe me.
Let's let the dangerous sex-pots have their word back, shall we? In short, let's quit rocking the term "rocking". It's dead.