For full effect, download “This Is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. That beat spent seven weeks at the top of the charts in 1995, becoming one of the most overused 90’s songs available.
Hypothetically speaking, if an alien civilization were to come down and try to take over the planet Earth in the mid-90’s, much like the attempted invaders that did in the hit film “Independence Day”, what would have happened when they came across a group of sixth-graders sitting on the pavement at recess throwing a piece of weighted metal at a stack of cardboard lids?
Alien #1: “OGS%NDOG#EWG1O1P4^SHW)EGOWEG?” (What are these human beings doing?)
Alien #2: SDIB}SD?IUW!H23ASFASFIl$397AOF#NSDFGSDGI!” (I have no idea. This appears to be a mating ritual, a messed-up one at that. Let’s get the curse word out of here!)
Pogs were one of the dumbest trends to have ever graced our hands, almost as bad as the pet rock, but not quite as awful as Giga Pets. I know that I am signifying my seniority by this paragraph alone. Keep in mind, I was never moronic enough to purchase a piece of stone that I named, bathed, and fed. However I was mentally challenged enough to buy stock in a company that was created from the lids of Pineapple Orange Guava juice containers (hence the acronym POG).
Back in the day I was a very average pog player. I was an extremist when it came to the collecting and purchasing of pogs, however my skills were very dismal when it came to pounding the slammer down on someone else’s collection. Wow, I’m getting that rush of 90’s euphoria by just saying the phrase “pounding the slammer”. Don’t judge. It was the cool thing to do.
In my prime I would often get obliterated on the playground of Municipal Elementary while the bigger kids’ slammer swiped away my stash. This was just one of the many nightmares that I dealt with in my time as an elementary student, along with being tied to a chair with jump ropes and duct tape for my teacher’s birthday. And yes, that’s a true story that still haunts me to this day.
Pogs literally are the definition of how dim-witted our society was during the 1990’s. Sure we had many mistakes that littered our generation; JNCO jeans, soul patches, a scandalous President, scrunchies, bowl cuts, Pamela Anderson’s STD’s, Pepsi Crystal, and Pauly Shore all made us look like an in-bred group of buffoons. But pogs, come on now! You’ve got to be kidding me! What would possess a 10-year old boy to think that it was fun and exciting to stack a handful of 8-ball decorated lids on top of each other, and throw a rubber cased weight on top of them? We were terrible!
We often criticize the rising generation for their idiotic behaviors. We say that they are brainless for living through a tiny electronic device, and communicating solely through text messages and 140-character Tweets. But what would they think if they were to be planted on our playgrounds back in the day and be forced to watch all of their older siblings and/or parents try and knock over a stack of juice container lids painted with skulls all over them.
They would probably think we had some messed up mating rituals.
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