I don’t want no scrub
A scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me
Hanging out the passenger side
Of his best friend’s ride
Trying to holler at me
You know the song. I know the song. We spent the bulk of 1999 being educated by the magical TLC about the dangers of getting involved with a scrub; thus shaping and reinforcing our dating guidelines excluding scrubs, or just generally learning about what a scrub is and filing it away for future reference.
Thankfully, TLC included this explanatory verse:
A scrub is a guy that thinks he’s fly
And is also known as a buster
Always talkin’ about what he wants
And just sits on his broke ass
While this was stellar advice upon entry to the somewhat confusing world of dating for most of us, we should never underestimate the potential of many people to be absolute blowberries and completely miss the fucking point.
There’s quite a bit of double negative in this here ditty and we’ve all seen first hand how a certain sector of society loves a good shouty argument about grammar.
Every Facebook conversation ever:
Theoretical Doug: I bloody love brownies and feel they could save the world from starvation and gremlins and bad things
Hypothetical Steve: Brownies are inferior to all other baked goods and are usually made by people without the intellectual capacity to enjoy a good meringue. By eating brownies you are supporting the dumbing down of society and eventual collapse of civilisation
Theoretical Doug: What a REDICULOUS comment! The amount of sweeping generalisations and unfathomable leaps in your argument astounds me. GET OVER IT BROWNIES FOREVER YOUR WRONG!
Hypothetical Steve: *ridiculous
Hypothetical Steve: *number
Hypothetical Steve: *you’re
Good talk, guys. Glad we sorted that out. Calling out grammar infractions is the last retreat of the unwinnable argument, and what is Facebook if not one big unwinnable argument full of distant relatives, ex work colleagues and complete idiot strangers? Basically, people who we made no effort to keep to interact with before Facebook, and it turns out now that was for good reason.
With this in mind, TLC should be thankful they released this song before the internet got serious. Even so, trash alligators still existed and it leads me to question if TLC found themselves in the following months to be specifically targeted in the affections of pedant no hopers?
Was T-Boz forced to change her number to avoid the guy who was too busy thinking about the oxford comma to make a car payment?
Did Chilli have to leave the club early to avoid buying drinks for the persistent chap who kept a stash of chalk and marker pens in his hip pocket in order to correct apostrophes on local business signs he saw around the neighbourhood?
Was Left Eye spared many painful conversations with the dude who sent 15 text messages instead of one as he could never keep to the 160 character limit while keeping correct grammar, because he was way behind on his phone bill?
We’ll never know. I mean, we could know if we bothered to ask the two surviving members of TLC. But fuck that, I’m getting a brownie.
– BONUS – you get more Mayfairy bang for your buck (punch for your pound?) today as I’m guest blogging over on Rhyme and Ribbons about the one thing that’s guaranteed to break up your relationship.