I usually only practice skepticism for things that are important to me, things about which IÂ have a strong desireÂ toÂ discover the truth. Everything else, I either ignore or just accept at face value, because I don’t care enough to examine them more closely. I suppose you could say, in a sense,Â I’m a selective skeptic.
Every once in a while, however, my skepticality kicks in for those other, less importantÂ things; those thingsÂ for which it would otherwise lie dormant.
Case in point after the fold:
Are you like me? Have you noticed a distinct rise in the number of people who are partying like rock stars?
It seems like everyone is partying like a rock star these days. My friends tell me all the time when I ask what they did the night before.
“Oh, man. It was crazy. We partied like rock stars.”
Or sometimes they even plan it out in advance.
“Man, we’re going to Vegas this weekend, and we’re going to party like rock stars.”
Now when I first started hearing this claim, I simply accepted it at face value. I thought, well hell, that’s pretty cool. Folks are having a good time, debauchery is running rampant as it should be, and wanton fornication is finally recovering from centuries of puritanical oppression.
But then recently, a few buddies of mine and I went out on a random Saturday night, and while we were having lunch the following day, one of myÂ friends was asked by the waiter what we’d done the night before. His response was, “Dude, we partied like rock stars.”
Well as you might imagine, along with my bullshit detector, thisÂ also triggered my skepticalishness, which now demanded to be applied to the claim about hard partying.
Of course when my friend said “We partied like rock stars”, I immediately thought, “Uhhh . . . No we didn’t.” I mean, we went to some bars, and got a pretty good heat going. We might have danced, and chased after some loose women. We might have even caused a little bit of a disturbance with other patrons and club management. But is that really partying like a rock star?
There were no nameless groupies that we used and then handed off to the roadies, or tossed out of the limo while driving down the turnpike.
There was no cocaine being snorted off a stripper’s ass while she fellated the drummer. We didn’t destroy a hotel room, set fire to any public property, or expel any bodily fluids on a historical monument or government building. We weren’t arrested and booked, nor did we die by drowning on our own vomit.
We didn’t do any of those things.
So how could my buddy, in good conscience, say we partied like rock stars? How could any of the hundreds of regular people I hear saying the same thing even make that claim?
Hey, I shot hoops in the driveway with my nephew the other day, but afterward, I didn’t go around telling people I was balling like LeBron James. Last night I made some Cajun spaghetti, but you know what, I wasn’t cooking like Paul Prudhomme. The fact that I used Prego sauce should be a clue.
Folks, I don’t know why my skepticismosity turned on because of such a silly phrase, but I think it’s clear thatÂ we shouldÂ not dilute rock star’s partying prowess by including our own feeble adventures under the same umbrella. Rock stars are sensitive, vulnerable people, but they work hard to maintain a lifestyle that would kill most of us. We must respect them for that.
We can aspire to party like them, but don’t claim to have partied like a rock star unless you have actually partied like a rock star.