Misery and Columbine
Wow, I was pretty miserable last week wasn’t I? As bad weeks go, last week pretty much took the f*cking cake and swallowed it whole. Lots of personal problems here on campus, augmented by the feelings of separation anxiety I’ve been having of late made for a pretty unbearable time. I’m better now.
I’m of the opinion that the media has taken the Columbine thing way too far. Does the American public really expect for this kind of sh*t to stop happening when it gets this much publicity. The disillusioned youth of America are looking for attention. And we’re giving it to them. Kids see how much attention these two little f*cks get (and I have no problem calling them little f*cks. No matter what their own problems were, there is a line that must be drawn. I got harrassed in High School, and I never felt the desire to shoot anyone. Everyone got harrassed in High School for something. The Jocks made fun of us for being smart, or wierd, and we made fun of the jocks for being dumb. The pretty girls made fun of the wierder ones for being ugly, and the pretty girls got called sluts. It’s the way high school works… no, it’s the way the world works.) ...Kids see how much attention these little f*cks get, and they think, hey I could do that too. Its like putting The Backstreet Boys on heavy rotation on MTV. All of a sudden, every money hungry record executive sees the opportunity to make their name known. They see the opportunity to exploit a weakness of the American public, one of the sickened needs of our people and they take it.
Because America is all about exploitation. It doesn’t take a lot to realize that.
Take these ads that I have alluded to several times over the past few weeks. I discovered them in an issue of Rolling Stone while directing Christ. I really like them. They are clever advertising. But they are exploiting a weakness, the desire of Americans to get laid. Hell, the desire of all human beings to get laid. Sex sells. What the hell this has to do with two idiots opening fire on their high school I don’t know, but go with it. We feel the desire to buy Kahlua because the ad tells us that either A) we will end up looking like the air brushed to perfection models in the ads, or B) that we will end up in bed with people like this if we drink Kahlua. It has nothing to do with the fact that Kahlua tastes good. Cause it doesn’t. Kahlua is about as tasty as a piece of Bubble Yum after six hours of chewing. At least in my opinion.
But considering I will probably be drinking tons of Kahlua (as it is a favorite in our house) to get through the next twelve days, I better get used to the taste of sixth hour Bubble Yum, or understand that I will be the only senior at Bradford who can even contemplate what the word sobriety means.