Wow.
Just when you have become jaded to the world of pop drudgery and the slowly churning pit of dance digestion, a pop-dance hit ascends from the darkness as if guided by the Lord God Himself and grips the minds and inspires the bits of an entire generation to get up off of their couch and move in a way directed to them by figures on their television.
It is this that is the significance of the Macarena. Before now, taste-makers and music producers of the 21st century have not been able to develop a sound and feel that could represent the anguish in our bellies as well as the UNCONTROLLABLE sense of hope and love hidden in the left part of our ribs. Now the anguish, hope, and love in our entrails have been fucked by the ghost of an old friend we simply call dance. Hither, the Macarena isn't just a dance; nay, it is a movement; a movement not only for pre-teens and Pokèmon enthusiasts such as all of us at Bitchpork.com but also for fully grown adults, babies, and toddlers (and don't be surprised if you see Nana cuttin' a little rug, too ;-) ).
I extend to you, the readers, my fondest feelings of joy and wonderment in this the most of glorious of times. Now there IS a reason to love. Now there IS a reason to say "Hey! Don't just sit there! They're playing the Macarena!" I only wish I could stay around and see the revolution for myself, but by the time you read this I will be dead. I am off to the big roller rink in the sky; I can only hope they are playing the theme from Mortal Kombat, Quad City DJ's, and of course the Macarena for the rest of all eternity.
I'm out of Here.
