High-Fivin' MF
art by Staff Member #716
 
So I just watched that Sylvester Stallone / Kurt Russell epic, 1989’s Tango & Cash, on the TV. First time I'd seen it. The movie itself was so cheesy it was Velveeta, but amidst all the mindless violence, cheap one liners, and bare male buttocks, (Sly and Kurt shave. Guys, who ya' foolin'? Sure, not all guys are as hairy-assed as, uh,.. my friend “C.J.”, but COME ON! Them asses looked shorn, waxed, and buffed! Not judgin’, just sayin’…) one thing in that festering fecal storm of a movie stood out for me:
 
At the end, after a lot of shit blows up, Stallone’s Raymond “Ray” Tango and Russell’s Gabriel “Gabe” Cash give each other a high five. And I'm not talking some, "Look at us. Aren't we being so silly and actually making fun of high fives by high fiving?" high five. Fuck no, duders, I'm talkin' a "Right on! We worked through our differences, cleared our good names after breaking out of prison - incarcerated for crimes we didn’t commit - and brought Euro-trash bad guys to justice, freeze frame on the hands, cheesy end of the '80s hard rock guitar riff, roll the end credits” high five! Woo!
 
So why don't people give each other honest-to-goodness high fives anymore? I'd love a high five! In fact, if you see me walking about town (tall, lantern-jawed, busty) feel free to run up and slap me some skin! Well, maybe warn me first. At least until I get used to this new wave of high fivin’ I’m starting here. I mean, I’m stomping down a frigid Milwaukee street, thinking about where my next meal’s coming from, and some random person runs up to me, hand raised, I might think I’m being attacked! Yeah, that’s a real possibility. And I don’t take being attacked lightly. I fight back. I’m a scrapper, chief. And big, too. Slow, but lotsa reach. Honestly? I’d bite out a fucker’s eye if it’d help me win a fight.
 
So you should definitely tell me you want a high five before you do it. Sure, Tango and Cash knew, at the end of their epic film, that a high five was in order, but not all of us are as deeply and sensually connected as Ray and Gabe. I don’t know you from Adam. Look, just go, “Hey, D.J.! High five!” And, if your hands look relatively clean, I’ll slap you a fiver. Why not? Feels good! Don’t it feel good? YEAH! Feels like some posititvity in this little world, don’t it? Hell’s yes it does. Don’t be afraid of the good times. For most of us it’s just a fun show of love for our fellow people, and for guys like Tango and Cash (tough guy, athletic dudes foolishly afraid of their obvious latent homosexuality), it's a way to have some physical contact whilst still be manly about it. It's like, "Yeah, we touched, but did you hear that slap? We hit each other! We're manly men! Right on! You're the one! Let's get a soda! We’re totally not gay!" It's so stupid and sad, yet the actual joy of the high five remains delightful! Delightful, but not as easy as one may think. For starters (and enders because I got nothing else), you might miss your high fivin’ partner’s hand once in a while. There is some skill involved here. Many a potentially great high five has gone incomplete due to lack of concentration, coordination, and conviction. In fact, those are the THREE C’s of high-five-ology!
 
1. CONCENTRATION – Really think about the high five you’re about to give.
 
2. COORDINATION – Learn to control your body’s movements. Don’t just flail around, Olive Oil!
 
3. CONVICTION – Mean it, motherfucker, MEAN IT!
 
So give someone a high five today! And mean it! 'Cause if ya' don't mean it, you're just being '00s ironical, and that ain't gonna put a smile on your face. It might make you feel interesting or hip, but you think anyone’s buying that posing bullshit? Why do you have to be cooler than everything? Why can’t you just embrace life and fucking enjoy it, jack? HIGH FIVE SOMEONE UNABASHEDLY WITHOUT ANY TONGUE-IN-CHEEK SARCASM! Come on. Try it. Let go of the fear. Fear is for pussies. Give that electric slap of happy times. Really smack your palm against someone else’s!
 
Up high! Down low! ... Oop--too slow! Ha-haaa! I'm looking for cash. In all seriousness. Cash. Mon-ey. Some greenback cash. Give me cash. I. Want. MONEY.

D.J. Kirkbride is a regular author for the footnote, as well as being our editorial conscience. You should thank him, really.