dC's advice column: dance

Dear dC,
Ok this one is really straight from the gut dude. I’m a happily chilled out 17 yr old on the verge of graduating high school. I’m tall, good at sports and popular with the ladies. Now, in this last year or so, I have had to come to face with like this major problem ok, im talking earth shattering problem and its busting my nuts. The fact is that the number of parties taking place in the vicinity of my social circle are growing like majorly ok, like you know crazy amounts. There’s a party for everything and the rest of the boys and I look forward to having some scene to kinda get our flirtations and all on you know….that sort of thing. Anyway, what has been pointed out to me by some of my homeboys is the horrible truth that … well…god damnit!!

I can’t dance.

Like I just ain’t got the rhythm in my butt or legs you know. Im standing there listening to Akon but my bodies moving like a retarded adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera. Now whilst the chicks haven’t noticed quite just yet (‘cos well you know I stand in the corner and bob my head playin all cool like), im sure its gonna dawn on them someday that im this sociopathic loser who needs to be in dance party quarantine…

Help DUDE HELP!...i know music is the answer and no matter how much I play my judas priest greatest hits album I can’t get myself to shake it like a saltshaka’’’..

Much love
Danceless in delhi



Dear danceless,
Oh hell yeah, I remember dudes like you. All Iron Maiden wearing, corner-of-the-party standing, head bobbing metallicats acting all cool, thinking the music was all happy and gay but not really joining in the festivities. I feel your pain. Well I don’t really feel it because I’m quite frankly the rug-cutting, soul-shaking, bootie knocking male version of fergy but yeah, in the possible parallel universe where dC cant dance, I feel your pain. Loser.

Ok, first off delhi boy, judas isn’t going to help you. You ever seen a tiny-skirt wearing, heavily made up delhi chick that would turn down prince William (not cos he’s not good enough for her but because she doesn’t know who prince William is) go all ballistic to Halford screaming ‘I believe you’re the devils child…?’ No you haven’t. And if you have, get yourself checked ‘cos you’re most probably dead. Anyway, Judas isn’t going to help. What you need to do is grab yourself some good house music that won’t cause your testicular fortitude to run down your pants and shy away from you screaming ‘no master noooo’. I’m talking house with an attitude that makes you move. I’d suggest a mix of Daft Punk’s Homework, Paul Oakenfold’s live in Havana and Oslo albums, mixed up with a bit of Depeche mode (world in my eyes, Halo) and possibly a few Disco Kandi records. Don’t be afraid to stand in front of the mirror and try to shake a bit. The sight might be ugly but in the end you’ll come out stronger.

I don’t usually say this, but try and turn on MTV for half an hour a day and watch any of the pathetic excuse for entertainment music videos for inspiration. If you’re desperate, watch any usher video, whilst this is supremely gay, I have to prescribe something slightly more extreme for your ‘govinda’ condition. Turn MTV off before it completely rots your mind though. The fungal infection caused by MTV in the brain can commence anywhere between 20-25 minutes...

Finally, get yourself a copy of a Genesis’ song called ‘I can’t dance’. It’s a terribly catchy, satirical and ironic number that shall remind you of the terrible world we live in where god doesn’t make us all equal and it comes down to those who can, and those who cannot- dance.

Peace retard. Don’t fall over yourself trying to jive a chikita, proclaiming desires for a hikita.
-dC

P.S. and don’t lie to me, aint no dude good at sports can claim he’s got dance disabilities. Unless you’re playing kabaddi professionally, in which case quit reading and writing into my column.