About a week ago I was sauntering through my workplace when I found myself staring directly into a conflict that was beyond just the two of us. A young girl, maybe 12 years old was sprinting towards me with feckless and reckless abandon. Naïve as I am in the year 2009 I quickly looked to help her, shaken by the Jihad in her eyes. I was blind to her tennis shoes, shorts, t-shirt and sweatbands –yes, the usual signifiers of fitness-- and found myself focusing on an apparition of Miley Cyrus chasing her in heinous wrath. The Menace, Miley, tore behind this poor young lady beneath a cloud of glitter, pink accessories, shit cosmetics, air brushed pictorials, music studio produced low-grade narcotics breathing over-sexed lyrics in several media platforms. Yes, this viciously assaulted girl in front of me, before her teenage years, was working-out and on a “jog.” Behind her manic eyes I couldn't help but see her as a victim, disoriented by the silent assault that shapes her. I understood that all of this poor young girl's actions were a defense mechanism against ethics deprived adults with their hands lodged firmly up poor Ms Cyrus's asshole-- turning that child into puppet, then into predator. Pinocchio is staring at the newly transformed donkeys and in the year 2009 he is no longer frightened.
Time is a very violent thing. It will never pause for negotiation or allow its self to sympathize with the elements it unceremoniously leaves behind, heartless. As a people we don't allow ourselves to fully appreciate our lives. Botox and Ferrari's, hair coloring products. What began as a fear of dying has evolved into a fear of no longer being cool. When older our birthdays haunt us, as if the landslide of experience now chases, forcing us to run to places we do not want to go. We long for the past, not realizing that it is the very thing that shoves us away from it . Yet when young, we hunger to be older. The ridiculousness of this dynamic is magnified within Ms. Cyrus and “High School: The Musical,” when the old prey upon the young and escalate their desire to advance in years. This is the very reason why Pop Puppeteers and “High School: The Musical” are a terrible thing to do to kids.
“High School: The Musical”? Really? Listen folks, adults portraying teenagers in media targeted towards children...are you fucking kidding me? I'm sorry but the age dynamics are too bizarre. I think I'm going to do a Biopic film about Lindsay Lohan, starring Bea Arthur with post-mortum botox and propped in “Weekend at Bernie's” fashion as Ms. Lohan. Then I'm going to play the film only in theaters near Columbian cocaine operations where no one speaks English. I'm pretty sure everyone in that audience will start ripping the coke they produce and think that it's cool to wear Depends at night clubs in Los Angeles. Does Lauren Conrad have a nice ass? Naw, man, she's just wearing a DooDoo rag under those apple bottom jeans.
Did that last paragraph not make sense? Of course not, we are dealing with madness here. Listen, it is like this: Forces like “High School: the Musical” and Hannah Montana are the spearhead of the disillusioning assault on youth that began midway through the 20th century and is gaining even more vicious momentum in the beginning of the 21st. We have developed as a people who continually prey on youth through pedophilic economics. Marketing degenerates have given up on selling to adults. The only ones with an open, manipulatable ear are children. They are a hyper-active consuming base because we feed them what their parents cannot give. They fiend for certain levels of guidance and models and the only nipple, consumption, feeds them. Our markets exploit the void left by parents, then make those same parents pay for the deficiencies they have left. Why are deodorants now more marketed towards teens (not because they smell horrible) but because they feed to their most base desires (see my Memo on Tag/Axe Body Spray). Alcohol commercials test best with children. If I hear another child ask me what kind of cell phone I have, then list the one they want to have, I'm going to flip the fuck out. But here is the tragedy. The assault on youth has made even the most diligent parents helpless to the army of consumption built upon the backs of parents disinterested in the details of rearing humans. And that is why I write about it, because now it is hurting the ones doing a phenomenal job.
I have said it many times, but I'd like it on the Savagerious Permanent Record: Puberty is a terrible thing to do to kids. But even more vicious is the savage economic hand of adults attempting to rip youth into their adulthood. The fact that this is often built on the nostalgia of adults captured within their own past is the most creepy. I choose to live each moment of my life with the value that the past has built for it, and the radical times that the future patiently waits for. No more, No less, immediacy holds enough weight. Many of you think I'm strange or act weird because of it. My actions are unpredictable or jolting, rude, or without direction. Well it is a fact; I choose to get caught in the rapture of the moment, realizing that my direction is built one series of moments at a time. When we fuck with the dynamics of age and time we fuck with the quality of our lives. I'm going to make right now kick ass because my past drives me to it, and the future waits for it. Right now I'm doing a celebratory dance because I just finished another memo. Fist pumps, high kicks, booty shake or two.
