It’s not easy being cool…well, for those who aren’t born into it. For those who are, ‘coolness’ is something that happens naturally, without much effort. People who’ve got it seem to wear it with ease, a confidence in that Popeye the Sailor Man mould, “I am what I am and that’s all that I am,” except, without the spinach stuck between their teeth. I think Rick Hansen is cool. So is Geroy Simon. Meryl Streep. Michael Jordon, still cool. Ellen Degeneres is cool. So is Steve Martin. I think the Michelin Man is cool. (I actually have a bit of a crush on the Michelin Man, but I have an open marriage where cartoon characters are concerned) Whereas the Pillsbury Doughboy just tries too hard. Some might think that Lady GaGa is cool, but again, I feel there’s just a whiff of extreme exertion; too much reliance on Swarovski crystals, hot glue guns and re-bar. I was not born with an overabundance of ‘cool’, so I have tried, at times, too hard myself to become cool. For example, in the 6th grade, all the boys rode their bikes to school. I thought this was pretty cool, and wanted to join that crowd. Plus, it made a world of sense to me to get home 10 minutes faster for lunch. So I decided to start riding my banana seat bike to school, just like the boys. And that lasted for all of ONE day, because I was ridiculed not only by the boys, but by the GIRLS, who I’m sure have all grown up to be militant feminists. This, apparently, in the waning years of the ‘60s, was something that girls just didn’t do. If I had been cool, I would’ve kept it doing it and eventually the girls would have realized that they too could get home 10 minutes earlier to watch Dark Shadows, or the Partridge Family! But sadly, I wasn’t feeling coolness, just idiotness. There’ve been many other examples down through the years, but thankfully this is a short column. And so I say today, if you haven’t got the coolness gene built into your DNA, then you should avoid at all costs, the appearance of trying to attempt it. Especially if you’re the leader of a large northern country. That means you Stephen Harper. Yes, I saw you trying to shake your pompom to the hip hop beats at the Paralympic Opening Ceremonies. You weren’t so much resemble a cool guy shakin’ his groove thing, as you did someone who’d been electrocuted while playing a Whack a Mole game. So, take my advice, from a gal with experience. Next time someone hands you a pompom, or a funny hat, or a piano, just do what you did in that church; stick them in your pocket and walk away.
