I punched into AI image generator: “A Rock Band playing to monsters, pro wrestlers, and comic book characters”. This, I suppose is who we are and I am fine with that.
Have you ever felt like you just don’t belong? Ever felt like an alien in the room? Picture this, it’s 1987 and I am sixteen years old and am now able to drive so I stop by a local convenience store to get gas and maybe a soda. Pepsi or Coke? You decide, or so those 1980’s commercials told me. Anyway, what should present itself between the door and drink cooler? The magical comic book spinner rack… and here is my dreaded secret. I am a comic book fan and a comic book collector. I am presented with a dilemma. Do I dare flip through and pick up the latest issue of the X-Men, G.I. Joe, Batman, or Superman? Why not? But what if someone laughs? That’s kid stuff! God forbid someone I know from school sees me… gasp! looking at comic books!
In the school halls, in the shopping malls, conform or be cast out - Neil Peart
Why was looking at comic books something to be ashamed of in 1987? Why was it ever? Who knows, but it was. Worse than that, even comic book fans might not like what they see! Why are you reading G.I. Joe and not something really cool like Watchmen or The Dark Knight?
The same goes for checking out the toy aisle, or listening to (certain) music, or watching pro wrestling (Don’t you know it’s fake!). Peer pressure was always a real thing and never mind that the rules didn’t make sense, you could be marginalized for things as simple as liking the wrong song (I once had a friend make me swear under oath not to revel the fact that he enjoyed George Michael’s song Faith). Why did it matter? Why did it ever matter?
KISS made a career out of preaching to the marginalized masses. Paul Stanley regularly preached from his rock stage pulpit that the music of KISS was for people just like YOU (Peeple!)! YOU, the ones who were made fun of in school. YOU, the ones who let their hair grow a little too long. YOU, who just wanted to rock and roll all night and perhaps party every day. But it was YOU who felt like an oddball, an outsider, an alien, yes, KISS was there for you.
“Now listen up Peeple! There’s no greater rock and Roll city in the whole wide world than [insert your city here] and I want you to know that no matter if you were picked on in school because your hair was a little too long, or if people made fun of you because of the music you listen too, you’ve got a home right here with us! Now here’s a song about alcohol.” - Probably a Paul Stanley stage banter. Photo by Tonya from When It Was Cool.
Again, however, none of the rules seemed to make sense. I never knew anyone who picked on anybody who listened to KISS. It was good, simple, rock music. It was fun. It was party music. The only people likely to pick on you for liking KISS was probably a parent who was certain KISS had something to do with worshiping the devil, even if they weren’t sure exactly how they were doing it. Heaven forbid you listened to Dio or worse… WASP (Supposedly, We Are Satan’s People).
You were more likely, in my experience, to get teased for listening to Rush. If you listened to Rush you might as well have been listening to math. You couldn’t dance to Rush. The odd time signatures didn’t exactly lend themselves to a close moment slow dancing with your sweetheart the way, say, Never Say Goodbye by Bon Jovi did. But the nerds sure got it. You know, the artistic kids who were actually smart. The musicians who worshiped the trio because they were virtuosos with their instruments. None of the cool kids understood this. Yet, for over forty years, Rush maintained a passionate following of the outcasts and shunned who hung on every word of Subdivisions even if it was Paul Stanley and not Geddy Lee who was preaching a haven for the marginalized.
Each of us, a cell of awareness imperfect and incomplete dining on honeydew and drinking the milk of paradise.
Like I said, the rules never made sense. If you’re so smart, then why don’t you know that wrestling is fake? Never mind the fact that you did know, and it made no difference. Never mind the fact that Bruce Lee’s fights, and Chuck Norris’ fights, and Sylvester Stallone’s fights were also “fake”, those were “cool”. What wasn’t cool was simply wrapping it in the veneer of professional wrestling. Then and only then, were you, apparently, an idiot.
The rules made no sense. So, here I was, a decent enough student, I played sports, I played drums, I wore the “cool” clothes (I guess, I had a sweet mullet that’s for sure), but I could not tell anyone I liked comic books, listened to Rush (or KISS or Dio, or New Kids on the Block, or anything else deemed “uncool” for the moment), or liked pro wrestling. Why? Who knows, but it certainly wasn’t cool.
Approximate representation of me, now retired and sporting a sweet beard the department would never let me grow while I worked there, with my beaUTIFUL wife who, not only couldn’t care less about my toy collection, but fully supports it and buys them for me while I return the favor with the horror dolls she collects. We are both blissfully unconcerned about your judgement.
Fast forward to over thirty years in the future. I worked in a career in law enforcement that spanned over three decades. I have literally been involved in cases that went before the state Supreme Court. I have now retired, and I have zero interest in what anyone may think of my hobbies, my music, or my collections. Why did I ever?
My wonderful wife Tonya has been an advocate of the mentally ill for a long time now. A community of misunderstood and marginalized people wrongly labeled crazy or outcasts because parts of their brain secrete either too much or too little of the needed chemicals. She, more than just about anyone, understands just how damaging it is for “normal” (whatever that is) people to label, brand, or judge others for things that literally have no impact on the lives of anyone else. How does it affect YOU in any way what music someone listens to, how they comb their hair, or how they dress? That long hair sure didn’t stunt The Beatles’ growth did it?
Essentially Tonya’s version of heaven probably.
When we started When It Was Cool the irony was not lost on us. When was Rush, KISS, comic books, horror, toys, wrestling, or any number of hobbies we enjoy cool? It never was. And that’s the point.
We started When It Was Cool as a community for anyone who ever felt like they had to look both ways to read a comic book off the spinner rack. We started When It Was Cool as a community for anyone who ever felt like they were committing a crime to rent a wrestling video. We started When It Was Cool as a community for anyone who caught someone smirking because your shirt said the wrong thing, or your make-up was too goth, or you were representing something in pop culture that wasn’t “cool”. When was it cool? It’s cool now. It’s cool here. That’s When It Was Cool.
I may not be Paul Stanley shouting at the outcasts through my microphone, while wearing make-up, fronting my multi-platinum selling rock band. I may not be Neil Peart penning my epic fantasy rock opera while performing supernatural drum rhythms. I may not be Jack Kirby capturing that fantasy inspired scenery with my pen. I may not be Ric Flair making you wish you lived in the biggest house on the biggest side of town. I’m having trouble holding these alligators down. But here, you can be you and that’s cool. That’s When It Was Cool, and we welcome you to our community.
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