Area Teens Enjoy Subculture, Say Experts

The fallout (boy) from last night’s FOX 11 special! report! on Emo Scene Kids was pretty good when I posted the video of the news story on Buzznet:

In which the kids, as usual, are amused by the grownups.

It reminds me of the post Columbine “news” coverage where the reporters were dispatched to find out that the Goth Kids in Dark Coats were feared psychotic loser stabby-people, and found to their consternation that the other kids just thought Goths were “okay like everyone else, just got their own way of dressing and stuff.”

The shocking outcome of this story is that the latest teen subculture looks funny and listens to loud music and isn’t quite sure what defines it.

Someone get Bill Bennett on the horn. We have a KULTUR-KRISIS in the making!!!!!!

┬┐Quien es mas macho: happy, o screamo?

And this just in via myspace:

hi guys, im not speak english very well, but a like your music, please give you track. bye

Hey!!!!!! Te gusta el rock punk, emo, screamo, happy punk y el pop punk en espanol y en ingles, y ademas te laten las nuevas propuestas y los grupos ya consolidados. Si estas cansado de que pasen puro pinche daddy caca y caca Omar por la radio. Pues entonces escucha “PUNKEMO” un programa fresco y con el toque casero. Los sabados de 18:00 a 19:30 hora de Mexico, 19:00 a 20:30 hora de Colombia, 20:00 a 21:30 hora de Venezuela y republica dominicana, 21:00 a 22:30 hora de chile y 1:00 a 2:30 AM hora de Espana. Apoya la buena musica y conoce grupos de Norteamerica, America latina y Espana. Si tienes una banda de happy, emo, screamo, rock punk o pop punk y desean que pasemos su sencillo y los demos a conocer en la seccion “RECOMENDACIONES” solo envia un correo al my space de “PUNKEMO” y solicitanos la informacion necesaria para que puedan aparecer en la seccion y pongamos su sencillo en rotacion. Cualquier queja o comentario en y en Y recuerda di no….AL PINCHE REGGAETON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. Escuchanos en

I especially like the which suggests some kind of Spanish-language Borat.

Something about this kind of appeal from a foreign country makes it appealing and not annoying. If this had been in English I would have said “Feh!” but coming from earnest foreigners it makes me want to buy them a beer. Rock on, Punkemo.

No one could say that she was left up on the shelf

Some of us never get over the childhood desire for the impossible. I remember a book I read as a kid, colorfully illustrated without words, in which some children get magical christmas presents of unknown origin. The presents turn out to be strange jumpsuits with backpacks on them. When they are put on and a button on the chest is pressed, the backpacks sprout wings and the children fly off.

The kids soar over beautiful green farmland and towns, land and visit friends, get ice cream, fly some more, and finally return home happily exhausted. When they wake up the next day, the magic flying suits are gone, and in fact never were; it was all a dream.

This is a terrible cheat. Not only is it a nasty trick to use the “it was all a dream” trick anywhere, but the author of this book didn’t have the balls to let the poor kids have their science fiction flying suits of the future in a work of fiction! I remember being really upset by the end of that little book.

Throughout childhood I had a series of impossible dreams: toys my parents could never buy, mostly. As I got older I wanted various Cool Stuff that was out of my reach: the ultimate bicycle, various electronic items, eventually a computer. I would make elaborate lists of the exact specifications of things I would never have. It’s not that I was a demanding child; quite the opposite! I was almost always too polite to ask for anything, and just hoped that someone would notice my obsession with the current golden dream and present it to me.

But I had a talent for wanting the unreachable. I wasn’t often satisfied; one bicycle and a walkie-talkie set stand out as dreams fulfilled. Rosebud! O my Raleigh 10 speed, and the little walkie talkies with the separate microphone that was so cool.

As the Apostle says, now that I think as a man I put away childish things. My toy planning now is limited to the occasional configuration rampage on an auto maker’s or computer company’s website. I don’t like to play the “if I won the Lottery” game or read books about how to become the CEO of a company. That stuff feels immature, silly.

But if there’s a woman I know who’s unavailable, I’ll fall for her whether she’s attached, uninterested, or just emotionally inaccessible. Reliably and fatally, I’m attracted to whomever won’t reciprocate: ice queens, people who live far away, people in love with someone else, and people who just aren’t interested.

And when I think about solving my problems I need to fix everything, now and forever; I insist on total cures for my ills and freedom from every demon that dogs me. I can hold up some ridiculous image of future perfection and call it a goal, and I’m being serious.

And when I let my mind drift and imagine some kind of happiness like that, I always next imagine betrayal and failure. Clearly I’d be dumped by anyone I wanted, obviously any success at defeating my troubles would blow back in my face sevenfold once I told myself I’d won. I build tragic ends to every daydream.

There’s life lived with nose pressed to the glass. The flying suits never arrive, and if they did it was all a dream. Real life is more like marching than like flying, and that’s never suited me.

You’re a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce.

I’ve been kind of a dick lately. Not sure why but I’ve been grouchy, touchy, waspish, more sharp-tongued and critical than I am usually even.

A couple of times in the last week I’ve had very minor confrontations that put me into full fight-or-flight mode. I was able to maintain mostly. Didn’t want to, though! I suppose all this monkeying around with the dopamine mechanism can’t be helping with stuff like that.

I’ve made some pretty rude replies to email too, and my “talking shit on people in an entertaining way” thing just needs to stop; wish I knew how.

It’s a measure of how nice my family and friends are that I very rarely get into any kind of confrontation. Also that I don’t drive 100 miles a day any more. Tomorrow I get to drive into L.A.; that should be good fodder for road rage. Hope I don’t get shot.

On the whole I’d prefer to be saintly. I mean, I’m already celibate. Can’t I be really sweet too?