“You big dummy.”
- Fred Sanford
“Oh, my bad.” That's what many guys (mostly) still say when they make some small flub and need to cop to it. I got to thinking about the term, recently. What is the unsaid social agreement on how big a screw up you can make and still get away with a “My bad?” Where is the line? It's funny, too, because saying it is unnecessary, really. In almost no situation where I would say, “My bad” is it not already evident to anyone else present that it was indeed my bad. Maybe it's less painful than saying, “I'm sorry.”
For example, you're walking ahead of me and I step on the back of your shoe and give you a flat tire. “Oh, my bad,” I say. Yes, it was. Who else's bad would it have been? So, no need to say it. “I'm so sorry" works. But I still reflexively say “My bad” every now and then. It just flies out.
But back to my point about the line. Where is it? At some point a screw up is big enough that saying “My bad” to a person or persons aggrieved is insulting. You can't run a red light and slam into the side of a school bus and get away with saying, “My bad" when you emerge from your vehicle.
Why am I rambling on about this? Because this morning at 5:07, I realized that I'd made an egregious omission two days ago on my favorite musicians from Mississippi list. I'm pretty sure it falls on the acceptable side of the “My bad” line, but I'm here to also say I'm sorry to Paul Thorn. How could I forget someone whose music I've loved for so long?
Paul was raised in Tupelo, Mississippi, the son of a Pentecostal preacher. Before getting into music, he was a professional boxer with a 14-4 record. One of his four losses was to Roberto Duran, a TKO in a nationally televised fight. Then he got into writing and playing songs while working at a furniture factory. In 1997, while playing gigs around Tupelo, he was discovered by Miles Copeland, the brother of Stuart Copeland, the drummer of The Police. Word got out, interest grew, and a record honcho brought him to Nashville to shop him around. . Within a month he opened for Sting. A contract with A&M Records soon followed. It's been a solid, steady career ever since. Fortunately, that Nashville scent never got on him. He's still a Tupelo guy.
He's one of the most personable musicians out there that I know of. He is the guy you work with at the furniture factory that everybody likes. His songs are sometimes serious but usually have some funny in them. A quote attributed to Oscar Wilde states, “If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you.” That's what Paul does, he makes you laugh while slipping you some truth.
Again, my bad, Paul. I'm sorry!