the shitty years
a little piece appears in slate today about this reality tv show, "brat camp." haven't caught it, but apparently it follows some troubled teens on an outward bound type trip.
anyway, it includes a nice little diatribe about teenagers. consider:
"Though I'm normally a pretty empathetic person, I hate teenagers with incredible fervor. It's nothing personal: I hate them categorically, like I hate injustice. I hate the way they roam around in packs, wearing floppy, Technicolor clothes, sculpting their marginal facial hair, slapping and tripping each other, shouting strings of banal obscenities as if they were delivering the "Gettysburg Address." I hate the way they express personal inadequacy through car accessories and vandalism. I even hate the word "teens," which sounds like some kind of infectious skin fungus. When a child I love becomes a teenager, my love for him goes into escrow for seven years. I know that there are biological excuses for their behavior—their amygdalae (the brain's anger and fear center) are ballooning, their exploding sexualities have only secret and shameful outlets—but that doesn't change my instinctive revulsion any more than knowing that sharks eat people because they need the protein. The cast of Brat Camp—a tribe of self-absorbed, violent, coke-dabbling, pimply rage-aholics—isn't an anomaly: It is the fullest logical expression of the genus teen, the platonic ideal of the species."
i enjoy that closing flourish. anyway, everybody go see our own dj mahogany play the early set at the forty watt tonight. and have a lovely weekend.
anyway, it includes a nice little diatribe about teenagers. consider:
"Though I'm normally a pretty empathetic person, I hate teenagers with incredible fervor. It's nothing personal: I hate them categorically, like I hate injustice. I hate the way they roam around in packs, wearing floppy, Technicolor clothes, sculpting their marginal facial hair, slapping and tripping each other, shouting strings of banal obscenities as if they were delivering the "Gettysburg Address." I hate the way they express personal inadequacy through car accessories and vandalism. I even hate the word "teens," which sounds like some kind of infectious skin fungus. When a child I love becomes a teenager, my love for him goes into escrow for seven years. I know that there are biological excuses for their behavior—their amygdalae (the brain's anger and fear center) are ballooning, their exploding sexualities have only secret and shameful outlets—but that doesn't change my instinctive revulsion any more than knowing that sharks eat people because they need the protein. The cast of Brat Camp—a tribe of self-absorbed, violent, coke-dabbling, pimply rage-aholics—isn't an anomaly: It is the fullest logical expression of the genus teen, the platonic ideal of the species."
i enjoy that closing flourish. anyway, everybody go see our own dj mahogany play the early set at the forty watt tonight. and have a lovely weekend.
posted by Huevos McGringo at
11:05 AM
6 Comments:
you can also make fun of astra at the ritz. 10:30. or just go watch mahogany, whatever suits your fancy.
don't get defensive, you fine educators out there. i'm not tryin to say it's accurate, that teenagers are all awful. but it does remind me of the things that were awful about being a teenager.
another interesting article in slate.
I think the author is just pissed that he experienced one too many swirlies as a kid.
DJ Mahogony Rocks!!!!
you won't find any dispute here. mahogany [aka- reno] is the hottest dj on the set.
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