Who's Bad?

Last Sunday, a small group of us trekked out to New Hampshire for some fun on the beach. Our afternoon was spent splashing around in the ice cold waves, napping and building sand cities.

Sun kissed and satisfied, we cruised back to Boston with disc one of MJ's HIStory playing in the background. We snapped to "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough" and got a bit sentimental with "She's out of My Life"(I get choked up everytime I hear Mike's voice crack at the end). As we sang along to "Bad", it struck me how much things truly do change.

Your Butt is Mine

I remember watching the "Bad" video and thinking Michael was the ultimate thug. I know, I know crazy, right? But to my 8-year-old mind, a black cropped jacket with shiny silver buckles, long silky waves parted to the side, tight black pants and a group of hard male backup dancers, meant danger.

The word is out, you're doin' wrong

Gonna lock you up before too long

Your lyin' eyes gonna take you right

So listen up, don't make a fight

Your talk is cheap

You're not a man

You're throwin' stones to hide your hands

As his limber gang performed choreographed moves reminscent of West Side Story and Fame in a dark dank abandoned subway station, Michael menacingly thrusted his hips and grabbed his crotch. My younger self was scared for whatever acid washed jean wearing crew that dared to step to them.

Fast forward........

You Say You a Gangasta

Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya

Am I frightenin ya? Shall I continue?

I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song......

Y'all garages for bullets

Please don't make me park it in your upper level, valet a couple strays

Nowadays, supposed musically inclined thugs don't dance. Nah son, that's wild 'mo. Instead they have video honeys that handle that department. Oh, cropped jackets, form fitting pants and ballerina leaps? Yeah right! Are you serious? White tee night gowns are the uniform and the only time they're jumping is over cars and fences when the block is hot.

N***** know, the lyrics molestin is takin place

F****** with B.I.G. it ain't safe

I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses

Bumps and bruises, blunts and Landcruisers

Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools

N***** mad because I know that Cash Rules

Everything Around Me, two glock nines

Any motherf***** whispering about mines

Today's 8-year-old? Maaaaan, they'd scoff at Michael's past claims of being bad, call him a wangsta and tell him to shut the hell up and sit down before 50 makes him cry. Kids are mean.

I'm scared to think who will be considered "hard" and "bad" when I have children.