Poser Alert

Sorry for the time between posts folks. I was having issues with blogger last evening and couldn't even get the necessary page open to do a new post. I thought it might've been my computer. But other pages opened for me just fine.

Anywho, I saw the funniest thing - and let me preface this by reminding you that in addition to being nice, good Burnettiquette is also about being you and not faking the funk.

So I was on a non-drive-to-work day, sitting on the Tri-Rail, making my way toward downtown Miami. It was a pleasant ride. I read for a few minutes, scribbled some notes for an article I'm working on, then started reading again.

My peace was shattered at one point though, when I heard what sounded like a cheap, or tiny (or both) stereo blasting a song by a couple of guys bragging about being "ballers." It was at a little distance but getting closer.

If you're old school, that word has a sexual connotation. But if you speak, or at least understand, hip-hop then you know that these days a "baller" is the cool, hip guy who has cool, hip things. The baller is the guy who says his clothes are the coolest. And they actually are. The baller is the guy who says his car is nicer than yours. And he's telling the truth. The baller is the guy who insists he gets more pretty girls than you. And he does. The baller is the guy who is cool on a full-time basis, not the civilian weekend warrior who scrapes together coins for a champagne life on Friday nights but returns to skunky beer and a shoestring budget the rest of the week.

So how funny was it that as the racket of the stereo grew closer to my seat the source became more visible? It was a young guy - I'd guess early 20s - who recited the song's lyrics verbatim. And he was serious. His brow was furrowed. He was concentrating, waving a hand for emphasis, and not missing a word. He looked up every few seconds with a practiced scowl and stared down other train riders who dared glance at the person making this boisterous entrance.

And his music machine? A tiny portable DVD player. He was watching a music video as he walked.

I watched him for second, and then had to stifle an involuntary laugh. I brushed it aside and turned back to my magazine, when it hit me: This is funny, because this guy isn't a baller. He's a simp! No real baller, who really had the diamond watch, the hot gear, the luxury CAR this guy was yammering about, would ride a public train.

Posers. They have no Burnettiquette.