I’m going to call it right now, The Lonely Island’s The Wack Album should be declared the best album of 2013. I admit that I’m solely basing this claim on the track “YOLO,” but the song’s impact has had such a positive effect on American society that my accolade is justified. For those who don’t know, the term YOLO means “You Only Live Once,” and it’s shown up everywhere – on shirts, in tweets, and in chart-topping tunes. Read more about it here. Lonely Island’s mockery of the phrase has struck a definitive blow to YOLO’s usage in the American lexicon. The song has managed to do what no authority figure or educated individual could: convince YOLO lovers of the term’s stupidity. I think The Lonely Island deserves to win every Grammy next year (yes, even the award for Best Tropical Latin Album) for their success in curbing the acronym’s usage (sadly though, some tweens and frat brothers will likely never receive the message). Seriously, “YOLO” is ridiculous. I mean, if you want to offer advice to someone, the least you could do is give it in non-acronym form.
For the most part I try to stay away from acronyms. They don’t really save time and often make someone sound uninspired and thoughtless. Also, acronyms usage can lead to confusion. If you tell me you need an ATM, I don’t know whether you need cash or some freaky sex, so clarity is always appreciated. I understand that Twitter severely limits your character count and with texting you don’t really want to have to type more then necessary (after all, you’re probably driving), but, no matter the context, shorthands like “u” and “ur” and acronyms just make the writer look dumb. I guess I’m most disappointed with the abbreviation “dtf” (down to fuck). Are kids able to successfully proposition sex using just three letters? Back in my day, we didn’t have “dtf”. You actually had to take a woman out, show her a good time, have her get to know you, then presumably after three dates it was your responsibility to initiate sex. You begin seduction, she’s “tired,” you drive her home, you fail to get a goodnight kiss, you go home crying to your nerdy female friend, the two of you awkwardly make out after a couple of beers…you know, chivalry.
But, once again, maybe I’m being too hard on society. Perhaps we shouldn’t constantly worry about each individual word we say or thing we do. After all, you only live once.