By: Barry Vile

The day that I watched my 10-year-old brother get hit by a car while dabbing in a crosswalk is the day I realized that our country’s youth are suffering from a dangerous case of OCD: Over Compulsively Dabbing. From the time that dabbing first became a part of pop-culture, I realized that this arm gesture, though as pointless as ‘Tebowing’, holds repercussions more dangerous than the Harlem Shake. I’m tired of embarrassingly thinking someone is in the process of sneezing and handing them a tissue when they don’t need one. I’ve given up so many tissues that I’m going broke buying so many tissue boxes!
I remember when dabbing was just lightly using a napkin to get some schmutz off your face, and now this sideways Nazi salute is a dance that people think is cool!
At this point, I’m not even mad about my brother being killed while dabbing. I’m mad because the driver of the car who killed him saw him dab and dabbed back. At his funeral, all his friends dropped his casket because they decided to dab in his memory. The body rolled out onto the floor. The only kind of dabbing at a funeral should be an old lady dabbing her tears; anything else is grossly improper.
Desperate, I had to stop giving high fives because half the time, people dab on me in response. My attempts at comradery have been grossly violated and have resulted in immense issues of trust. How do you trust someone when they break the once sacred bond of the high five? The world’s most holy religious document, the Bro Code, even states “A Bro Never Leaves Another Bro Hanging,” but dabbing has nullified that once monumental law. If dabbing is going to lead to our youth to make a mockery of a treasured text, what benefits does it possibly bring to society?