The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current, January 14, 1997, Page 5, Image 5

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    Kasey
KERBER
i
Bad fad needs to go the way of leisure suits
I have a dream! ,
No, not the one about Nicole
Kidman, whipped cream and the
“Love-O-Matic” heart-shaped bed.
My dream is to kill the
Macarena.
Actually,
I already had the
dream. I even
wrote a column
on it encourag
ing anyone with
a pulse to end
the Macarena’s
reign.
But I
failed.
The damn thing is still alive.
Therefore, I have dedicated one
of my New Year’s resolutions to
killing it once and for all.
Now some of you might be saying
— “But Kasey, the Macarena IS
dead!”
Ahhh... but that’s just what Los
Del Rio WANTS you to believe! In
actuality, the Macarena is very alive
and if something is not done it will
soon give birth to a swarm of bad
movies like the Lambada did.
But I have the proof. Since my
first column, every time I saw the
Macarena being performed, sung,
danced or exploited, I wrote it down
And since that column there’s been
more than a dozen Macarena
“sightings.”
I, however, will present only the
most humorous ones.
Let’s start with the Daily Nebras
kan. Two out of the three comics in
the back of the paper you’re now
holding have featured the Macarena
it--—
From this moment on, the Macarena will
only be mistakenly thought of as a
variety of nut that grows in the Brazilian
rain forest!!!”
“The Deep End” had a comic
with cockroaches doing the
Macarena and “Non Sequitur” had
one where the Macarena had its own
tombstone in a graveyard of fads.
Sigh...if only the Macarena were
6 feet underground. But just three
weeks ago I flipped on the TV and
saw it once more. This time they
were doing the Macarena on Dick
Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve
Party. And if that wasn’t bad
enough, they were doing it on the
Spanish Channel’s New Year’s Eve
Party in Miami.
And speaking of Miami, the
Orange Bowl was not exempt from
the Macarena. In a pre-game pep
rally with Nebraska and Virginia
Tech fans, the Macarena song was
played by a band that actually
sounded worse than Los Del Rio.
But I’m not done. Boris Yeltsin
did the Macarena before his heart
attack, the cartoon character for
Hawaiian Punch did the Macarena
(and deserves a heart attack for
MTV’s “Buzzkill” did the Macarena,
while bowling.
Now let me be frank.
STOP DOING THE
MACARENA! STOP SINGING
THE MACARENA! FROM THIS
MOMENT ON THE
MACARENA WILL ONLY BE
MISTAKENLY THOUGHT OF
AS A VARIETY OF NUT THAT
GROWS IN THE BRAZILIAN
RAIN FOREST!!!
Well, now you’ll undoubtedly be
searching for ways to rid your mind
(and our planet) of the Macarena.
My original idea was an arcade
shooting game called “Kill the
Macarena,” but since the game
would consist of shooting unarmed,
dancing civilians Congress shot it
down.
So I’ve now come up with
“Kasey’s Top 10 Ways to Rid
Mankind of the Macarena.”
Here they are:
1. Call radio stations, request the
Macarena and laugh at the D.J. like
you’re out of your mind.
“2. Take your “Macarena tape to
Homer’s and demand your money •
back.
3. If at a dance club when the
Macarena plays — breakdance
instead.
4. When MTV plays the
Macarena video, call them and
threaten to watch VH1.
5. Steal the Macarena tape from
D.J. “Mac Spin!” at the dance club
and replace it with a Yanni tape to
rip up.
6. Go to all Los Del Rio concerts
with a semi-automatic weapon and a
doctor’s note saying you’re insane.
7. Imagine that all girls in the
Macarena video are really guys in
drag.
8. Buy my official anti-Macarena
T-shirt saying “The Democrats did
the Macarena at their convention
and they lost Congress!”
9. Teach someone to do the
Macarena wrong, then send them to
the dance club where DJ. “Mac
Spin!” is still ripping up Yanni.
10. Remember that each member
of Los Del Rio is your dad’s age.
Anyway, with these tips and a
good lawyer, you’ll certainly do your
part to eliminate the Macarena.
And if nothing else works
remember that the Macarena is a fad
and nothing more.
Maybe Time magazine did say it
best when it said the two members
of Los Del Rio had their “15
minutes of fame.”
Well 15 minutes are up. Get your
old butts off the dance floor so 1 can
breakdance...
-Kerber is a sophomore news
editorial major and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist.
Heather
LAMPE
Thumbs up to shopping via catalog
Mail-order magazines bring buying back home
Trips to my mailbox have been fe
verish and filled with anticipation
lately. I’m ashamed to say that my
little fetish has turned into a full
fledged addiction. Every day at
promptly 12:30
p.m., I eagerly
await that little
white one-door
truck to deliver
my fix — full
colored, glossy,
stapled pages of
wonder, a.k.a.
CATALOGS.
It’s true.
I'm a catalog Junkie—a collector, if
you will. It all started out with a simple
order to J.Crew and now I’m suddenly
on every mailing list known to man.
I’ve even received catalogs in Span
ish.
At first I found it ratter annoying.
I’d open foe mailbox expecting a card
or letter, but to my dismay nothing but
a Sears flier, touting the high quality
of foe Kenmore washers and dryers.
Desperate for reading material, I was
pulled in by their vivid descriptions
of spin cycles and lint traps.
Now I’m content with the fact that
no fondly member or friend has ever
written me or will ever write me, so
I've come to enjoy being bombarded
with the five to six catalogs I receive
a week.
There is just something soothing
about lounging on a couch while flip
pingthrough a Bloomingdale’s Spring
«-—-—-—
Looking through catalogs is like windotu
shopping — only you can do it in your
•>
underwear and you won’t get escorted
out of the mall.”
and Summer catalog. I can’t actually
afford to pay for anything but the ship
ping and handling, but imagining
myself in a $500 Donna Karan jacket
is almost as fun. Looking through
catalogs is like window shopping —
wily you can do it in your underwear
and you won’t get escorted out of the
mall.
I realized how pathetic I’ve become
when I recently received a catalog of
catalogs. Instead of companies send
ing you the catalogs for free,you send
in money to order the catalogs. This
must be a company’s safeguard for
someone like me who rarely actually
buys anything. They’ve caught cm to
my plan. Now they want me to pay
for my habit.
My catalog of catalogs has some
rather interesting and unique catalogs.
I will be ordering the Dolly Parton
Wigs catalog and the Beer of the
Month catalog. You can never have
too many wigs or too much beer. But
there are hundreds of catalogs for
V.
people with weird tastes.
I noticed that my directory of cata
logs showcases many that were geared
toward the erotic shopper. Need to buy
some whips and chains? Then there’s
a catalog for you. Hungry for some
edible undergarments? Well, then
there’s four or five catalogs for you.
For those voyeurs too embarrassed
to order from one of the above cata
logs, there is ihe mother of alLmail
ings: Victoria’s Secret. This catalog
has a following like no other. If women
aren’t looking, then their boyfriends
are. I know men who don’t have a sig
nificant other, but have Victoria’s Se
cret in their magazine rack. Appar
ently they are curious to learn the se
cret Victoria’s been keeping. Let me
share it with you — underwire and
silicone. ; .
If you want to get on the universal
catalog mailing list, but you don’t
want to purchase anything, I can rec
ommend something almost as enjoy
able and equally as pathetic. It’s called
the Home Shopping Club.
Everyone has flipped by it, but no
body admits to actually watching it:
These hosts are like good used car
salesmen. They can sell anything.
They explain the wonderful qualities
of each item and then put a timer on
the screen. You feel almost forced to
buy the item, for fear that if you want
it later, it will be gone.
“We only have 12 of these fabu
lous fuchsia terry cloth muu-muus left.
Call in and order quickly or you’ll
miss this fabulous And. You have a
minute, 30seconds. Call us!! Call us!!
Call us!!!”
If you’re strong enough to hold
your own and can resist the urge to
buy, then you’re in for the best part of
the show. The hosts have regular
people call in and tell the viewing au
dience why they love their 7-carat cu
bic zirconium brooch. Every time I
watch, the woman who calls in is this
old woman from somewhere in the
deep South.
I’m convinced that the shopping
mall is going to be a thing of the past.
If I had my way, shopping would only
be done via the Spiegel catalog and
the QVC channel.
I have to go though. I only have
two minutes left to order my authen
tic cubic zirconium Miss America
crown. «
See you at the mailbox.
Lampe is a senior news-editorial
and English major and a Daily Ne
braskan columnist