In 1957, Miles Davis released an album entitled Birth of the Cool. I’ve always been a fan of jazz and Miles Davis. It wasn’t just about the music, as good and soulful as it is, but the way it made you feel. When you heard jazz it was like you felt this sort of sophistication, a touch of class. You’d always see Miles in those pictures, big cheeks blowing the heck out of that trumpet, and think that was cool.

But I wonder if we ever ask ourselves what is cool. I mean, who gets to determine this formula and concept? The only thing I knew was that being cool in our culture meant something. As Don Miller says, if you know how to make something cool, you’d be able sell it to anybody and make it big.

When I was younger I used to think cool was something like James Dean, the rebel without a cause riding his motorcycle in a dark leather jacket against the furious wind. He gets into trouble with the law, smokes Marlboro's till his lungs burn out, and whispers to the ladies in town. Is that what it is — a call to remake ourselves into a new sort of James Dean?