Culture Club

I am not a joiner. I know that shocks you. I know you think I am affiliated with a whole host of associations, organizations, and clubs, because it is clear I am a “people person” and that I would not only like to buy the world a Coke (or whatever each individual’s preferred cola beverage may be) but a beer or lager or ale and listen to their problems with genuine concern. But no. I’m not a joiner.*
I do not do classes at the gym. (And yes, this includes “spinning” classes, despite people’s insistence that I would love it given my mania during my solo “cardio” sessions. So stop asking, spinners. I am not joining you and your special wacky bikes. I know the activity has its own shoes, but even that is not enough incentive.) I do not belong to the United Pilates of America society. If I were an alcoholic, I would not belong to “the program”. I do not think that people with similar interests need to band together to enjoy those interests in an organized fashion. You get the idea.
My first car was a 1979 MGB. I will not go into how much I loved that car despite its moody temperament. But I did love it. What I didn’t love, though, was how other MG drivers would flash their lights and wave at me whenever they approached. “Hello, friend! We share a bond by virtue of our choice in automobiles!” It drove me crazy.
I’m beginning to see it is the same with the iPod. My friend Dan tells me this phenomenon is not as bad as it was back in the days of the “first generation” iPods. But that doesn’t matter. The current “club” mentality, experienced by me first-hand on what is becoming an annoyingly regular basis, is enough to make me miss my homebound eight-track/beanbag chair experience of decades gone by. I see the slight nods and Mona Lisa smiles of appreciative camaraderie from others wired to the telltale white earphones, and that is enough to sicken me.
But I’m a woman of action. I will not rest on my laurels (and oh, what laurels they are) and just idly complain. I am doing something to banish this need for collective community. I am hereby forming a club for non-joiners. Care to apply?
* “But, Jodi, you belong to nycbloggers.com and the Jewish Bloggers webring!” you say, choking on your Big Gulp. Yes. Yes, I do. Kindly disregard, though, and pass me a Coke … comrade!