A Dying Breed

People used to know how this shit was done.

That's the thought that popped into my head when I stumbled across an old friend's page. Yeah, I know, surfing MySpace pages at 4AM doesn't sound like a very rock 'n' roll thing to do, but there's only so much guitar you can play after breaking your hand on the back of someone's head. More on that never. Back on point, I used to stomp around Cape Coral with this guy until the wee hours of the morning as a matter of fucking principle. We got busted for PI when I was sixteen, pissed off everyone in a five mile radius by blaring Anti-Flag and old school Offspring, drank the bar so dry at every party we went to that the fucking floors dry rotted and regularly took part in "Midnight Donuts", which consisted of walking around our neighborhood Wal-Mart eating as many donuts as we could before they kicked us out.

Good, Wholesome, All-American fun.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I come across the guy on MySpace and find out that at some point he turned white as bird shit. Dude used to have a 'hawk so tall he couldn't sit up straight in a car without fucking it up and now he looks like something out of Revenge Of The Nerds. That vest some of you have probably seen me wear? That was his once upon a time. Guy swelled up so wide that I doubt the damn thing would fit around his fucking wrist now. He used to jam out to Crass. I don't know what the hell he had on his profile, but I'm willing to bet that whatever it was could put Alanis Morrisette to sleep. Oh, and he's a vegan. A fucking vegan! This guy never went anywhere without his leather jacket, and now he's spooging himself over animal rights?

What the fuck, man? Look, I understand that people get older, priorities shift, you've gotta' sacrifice a few of your causes to keep food in your stomach. You buzz your 'hawk off, you don't try to look like the guy from Oxford who's every sexual experience is plastered on his computer screen. You put on a button down shirt for an interview and roll up your sleeves when it's over so you can show off your ink, you don't pay thousands of dollars to get it burned off. You find a way to incorporate who you were into who you are, you don't wash out the fucking dye and pretend it never happened. Fuck's sake, rock 'n' roll used to mean something. It was a mindset, a lifestyle, standing up and saying "Fuck you, I'll live my own life", defining your own paradigm instead of adopting the one society's tried to force down your throat since you were old enough to piss straight. Now? Now it's a fucking sticker on the back of your Volvo that you take off when you finally kiss enough brown eye to land yourself that promotion and don't want people to see it when you park in your VIP spot at the office.

I said this a few months back, but let me reiterate. Independent thought is what gives rise to advances in civilization. When we all accept the norm as ideal, we stagnate, we lose our sense of purpose toward the end of social evolution. The greatest minds in history were ridiculed, ostracised and sometimes executed for their radical theories. Stop being the one behind the firing squad with a bucket of popcorn and a hard-on, start taking a chance and fly your own fucking flag again!