Punker Than Thou 1 My taste in music is eclectic. I listen to industrial, rockabilly, noise, and alternative. If the artist does not have a lack of pubic hair, two first names or Canadian citizenship, chances are good I will listen to him/her/them. Because of my eclectic taste in music, I frequent alternative record stores. This presents a problem for me. I am a normal guy. The typical reaction when I enter a record store with the name Jake's Underground Records and Oh Yeah, You Better Not Come In Here If You Own Khaki Pants is mild amusement. Nothing is ever said about me. Last weekend, though, when I went to a Jake-like store to purchase the latest from the Reverend Horton Heat, the reaction was a bit different. I overheard the cashiers’ ticking off a list of stores in the mall. Assuming they were listing stores they would not be caught dead in, I passed by them. As we walked by, we heard them remark, "Structure. GAP." After being amazed at their erroneous assumptions at guessing places I buy clothes, I became enraged. They were mocking the customers who were not wearing ripped fishnets and Doc Martens. I probably listen to similar music as them, but because I do not have thirty infected ear piercings, they were willing to insult me and lose a (formerly) faithful customer. One of my philosophies is: Those who can think, do; those who cannot, dress funny. The cashiers at that record store are, by all accounts, over the age where dressing like a color-blind retard with an urge to relive his youth through Scooby-Doo t-shirts and Josie and the Pussycat lunch boxes is considered cool and rebellious. They either live in Mommy and Daddy's basement or an apartment over Mommy and Daddy's garage. Of course, that is only temporary. Once their Fugazi-inspired hardcore band takes off, well, look out, world! They will be moving on up to a roach-infested apartment in NYC while playing in dingy clubs with Brooklyn-renowned hardcore bands! Oh, right, never mind. Their dreams of rock stardom will fade like their Manic Panic dye jobs, and they will be cashiers at a record store for the rest of their lives because, dude, the man does not let them be themselves in an office setting. Individuality. It is their rallying cry. "Like, dude, we are such fucking individuals. All of you are conformists." Sure, Jayne Gein, but how are you an individual when all of your friends look like you? You have no original thoughts, so your only attempt at standing out is to dress funny. You are not particularly talented. You cannot sing. You cannot dance. You cannot write. You cannot tell jokes. You cannot do anything that society values or admires. So you try to shock us. You pierce your dick. You dye your hair. You wear ripped clothes that you stole from the Salvation Army dumpster. And then you insult us because, no matter how hard you try, you will amount to nothing. You know it. You hide behind your evil t-shirts and when you see a so-called normal person, you laugh at him because, secretly, you are afraid (rightly so) that he is better than you. You'll never change because you don't have anything to fall back on. All you
Punker Than Thou 2 have are your tribal tattoos, body piercings and dyed hair. You'll be talent less attentionseekers for the rest of your lives. Worst of all, you'll never know the joys of khakis.