We also translated the fight song into Minion, spelling out B-A-N-A-N-A-S instead of F-L-O-R-I-D-A S-T-A-T-E. We raised signs with brash and semi-incoherent political statements (“Donald Trump is the #1 king” and “BRING BACK GRANTLAND”) that had nothing to do with Minions themselves, paying homage to the exploitative use of their likenesses on ignorant Facebook posts.
SAD MINION SOFTBALL FULL
Once we made it to the stadium, we kicked our Minion-ness into full gear. Walking to the game, we made sure dry-hump every fire hydrant and pay tribute to every person dressed like a banana – which would’ve been hard to find if it weren’t October 31st the only thing more unoriginal than being a banana on Halloween is being a Minion. Have you heard Omi’s “Cheerleader” remixed by DJ MinionOnTheTrack? Don’t go looking for it. We gathered at our early-morning tailgate and jammed out to today’s pop hits, but only played versions translated into Minion language – a mix of gibberish, Spanish and Italian. We researched and adhered to their habits and customs throughout the day, which there were many of. No, we really tried to understand the Minion life. But of course, we didn’t just adopt their likeness this is 2015 and that would be cultural appropriation. So that’s what my friends and I decided to do: inhabit the Minion. Minions can’t hurt you anymore if you become one.
After all, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Just the sight of their bulbous, pill-shaped bodies has become tortuous, yet we all simultaneously love them which is why I decided to pull off this Minion charade in the first place. (pictured above: An example of minions being used for any and all purposes, no matter how depraved.) Seriously, try to think of a day where you haven’t had a brush up with something Minion-related – you can’t and it’s all very overwhelming. Since serving their purpose as slapstick-y nonsense henchmen in Despicable Me, they have become as common as Drake lyrics in our cultural lexicon, giving them an eerie omnipresence in our day-to-day lives. Unless you’ve been living in Reverend Richard Wayne Gary Wayne’s bunker, you know about our country’s current obsession with Minions. Honestly, this had less to do with my leadership or persuasive charm – all I did was make a Facebook event with a vaguely rousing event description – than with the mystical allure of the Minions. We even managed to convince a girl who we had affectionately nicknamed “Toilet F**k” (the origins of which I neither have the desire nor the space to explain here) at a Halloween party the night before, to come along with us. To further humiliate himself, one friend bought a women’s version knowing full well that there were plenty of men’s sizes still available. Many of them bought their costumes weeks in advance of the actual event. Really, the eagerness with which these people were willing to dress up like Minions for the sake of one man’s shameful hipster ironism cannot be overstated. If anything, we shouldn’t be in awe of myself, but of my group of friends, whose willingness to participate in something so incredibly stupid is astounding – and frankly – pretty embarrassing. I did, however, manage to make a group of 25 people commit a form of social suicide by doing the most detestable thing they could possibly do on Halloween in 2015: dress like a Minion at the nationally televised Florida State-Syracuse game in a football stadium surrounded by their peers.Īdmittedly, this feat is wildly unimpressive in comparison to those of my aforementioned cult leader role model. This past Saturday, I discovered what it must’ve felt like to be Charles Manson.ĭisclaimer, no, I didn’t have a psychotic break, start scatting in a courtroom or make a group of gullible people kill themselves.
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