The Heart Will Go On – But Not the 90s

When a loved one dies, it’s natural to grieve and to with the person would come alive again to begin where you left off before the death. Even though, deep in our hearts, we know it’s best to let them settle in and get comfortable with their new afterlife.

However, there has been an influx of people digging up a certain fresh grave. The poor soul has only been dead for five years, but they keep shoveling up the dirt and disturbing his rest. It’s a horrifying story – really, it is. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Oh, you say you haven’t? Just turn on your television. You’re bound to see him. His name is The Nineties.

The Nineties died at the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2000. He left behind a myriad of family and friends: grunge rock, Clintongate, O.J. Simpson, the Spice Girls, pogs, the lambada, “Macarena,” Aaron Spelling sitcoms, Tamagotchis, Titanic, boy bands, Olestra and the phrase, “What-ever!”

He went very peacefully. We said goodbye to our old friend to the tune of The-Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Prince-But-May-Now-Be-Prince-Or-Is-He-Just-The-Artist’s “1999,” as we chugged cheap champagne and prayed that our electrical power wouldn’t succumb to the terrorist known as “Y2K.”

We missed him, but we had hopes and dreams for the coming years. We filled the void with trashy reality TV shows, Anna Nicole Smith, wardrobe malfunctions, Starbucks and presidential candidate bashing.

However, while our heads were so stuck up our millennial asses, we failed to see the grinning, conniving VH-1 sneak past us with a shovel in hand. While we argued whether George Bush or John Kerry was a better football thrower, VH1 was busy unearthing poor Mr. Nineties.

VH1’s resurrection and exploitation of the deceased came in the form of the television show “I Love the 90s.” They were so high off the success of their beautiful memorial to The Nineties’ father, The Eighties, that they decided to see if there was any juice left in the son. What a sad world.

I watched five episodes and was greatly sickened by what I saw. They seemed to have picked the worst aspects of each year, from Vanilla Ice to Milli Vanilli and Tinky Winky to Tickle Me Elmo. And to pick hosts such as Susan Powter and Michael Bolton to eulogize the decade is horrendous! To show my solidarity, I turned off the show after “I Love the 90s: 1994.” I later burned my television set after I’d heard they would be coming out with “I Love the 90s Part Deux.”

However, the show seemed to be quite popular amongst Nineties necropheliacs. I had no clue there were so many of them. Other stations then caught on to this condemnable practice, namely Nick at Nite. Yes, Nick at Nite – the same station that used to religiously play black and white sitcoms such as “I Love Lucy” and “Bewitched” is now showing “Roseanne,” “Full House” and “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” C’mon, it’s not like we already forgot what Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen used to look like.

Although there thankfully hasn’t been a resurgence of the horrible music, I’m not going to hold my breath. There have been rumors of Backstreet Boys and N*Sync comebacks, and only time will tell before punk and emo bands start remixing Nirvana and Soundgarden.

Even Nineties clothing has the nostalgic price. While browsing through a used-clothing store in Los Angeles a few weeks ago, I found a “vintage” Guns ‘N’ Roses Use Your Illusion and Smashing Pumpkins Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness t-shirts for almost $60 apiece. If t-shirts from 1991 and 1995 are selling for that much money, I might as well start eBaying my entire junior high school wardrobe. I’d be rich!

Pop culture is becoming retro way too soon nowadays. I believe once a decade has died, it shouldn’t be unearthed for at least 20 years. The Nineties now feels like a houseguest that has overstayed his welcome. We lived with him for 10 years, now enough is enough. He can stop by for cake and coffee in 2020 if he wants, but he has to leave, and now.

It’s time to bury The Nineties again and let him enjoy his eternal retirement for a while. He lived through a lot – celebrity murders, presidential scandals, the birth of pop tarts, a booming economy, the Gulf War, the collapse of the Soviet Union, terrorist bombings, school shootings, cloned sheep, the death of a princess, Michael Jackson’s “two” plastic surgeries – and quite frankly, he needs the rest. He’ll then be rejuvenated for another appearance, hopefully no sooner than 15 years from now. It is only then we can party like it’s 1999 all over again.

I’ll start digging the hole.

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