The New “Teen Spirit” Insults My Intelligence

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Load up on guns because we’re taking down the school and bring all your friends who want to share our glory.  It’s fun to lose even though winners and losers don’t exist and to pretend because we know deep down that losers exist, and we’re them.

She’s a bitch, oh sorry, the politically correct phrase is overboard and self-assured because she screws all the athletes.  Oh no, I know a dirty word!  That’s right, she’s a bitch, and don’t you forget it.

With the lights out, it’s less dangerous, or that’s what she tells herself every time she gets into bed with a guy.  The thought comforts her when they don’t want to use a condom.  

Music Notes

(Photo credit: all that improbable blue)

“Here we are now, entertain us,” demand the guys who’ve heard all about what this girl will do.   Since when is sex nothing but a form of entertainment?

I feel stupid even though my life has been, like, totally and uniquely difficult. Don’t tell me that depression is contagious.  You know nothing of what I’ve been through. 

Here we are now and boy are we ever armed.  Entertain us or else.

A mulatto was the term I forgot and it made me fail biology class.  It’s the teacher’s fault for not understanding how much stress I’m under.  My life can’t get any worse.

An albino is what the bitch is going to look like by the time all those STD’s are done with her.  If she’s still alive by then…

A mosquito couldn’t suck all the diseases out of her body if you gave it a million years.  I don’t think she’ll live.

My libido tells me that I’d do her anyway if I had a chance.  With or without a condom.

I’m worst at what I do best which is why all those guys sleep with me just once and for this skill I feel blessed. Otherwise, a girl like me could end up like those losers over there.  Those girls won’t get laid until they’re forty.  Our little group of vixens has always been lucky to avoid getting pregnant and we always will be thankful for that until the end of our run with all of these cute and desperate guys.

“Hello, hello, hello” they always mutter as they start their sexual exploits. “How low?” they ask as if they had no clue where a vagina is located.  And then they always act all macho the next day.

“Hello, hello, hello” we gasp because this is what we’re supposed to do to be popular.  We have no idea where else to start.  The slut knows what she’s doing but how low can we get before hitting rock bottom?

“Hello, hello, hello” they never said to us, but soon they will once their friends start dying.  They’ll regret everything.

We need a plan before we attack.  How low do we need to crouch so they won’t see us as they walk out of the classroom?  With the lights out, it’s less dangerous because they can’t see us when we shoot.

“Here we are now, entertain us,” we say to the teachers who ought to understand that our well-being consists of nothing more than our immediate gratification.

I feel stupid and contagious because my balls hurt.  Maybe I should see the nurse.

“Here we are now,” and nothing more than that, I sneer as I enter a classroom of rowdy teenagers who are chanting “entertain us” like they always do.  I need a cigarette and a shot of something quick.

Music Note Bokeh

(Photo credit: all that improbable blue)

A mulatto screams, “Get down, they’re shooting people!”  An albino is shot in the head while tackling the armed students.  He’ll be remembered as a hero for his actions, but his was an act of suicide.  It will be forgotten that he had suffered far more during his life than the shooters ever did. 

Once the SWAT team arrives, they’ll squash the shooters like a mosquito.

My libido is not looking forward to prison.  No surrender!

And I forget just why I taste good to all those guys.  I’m not the prettiest, just the most willing.  Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile for now.  I found it hard to sleep with them when I first started and now it’s hard to find a way to stop.  Oh well, whatever, never mind, I’ll continue down this path.  It’s the best I can hope for.

Hello, nurse… hello… hello… how low are my vitals?  I feel like hell.

Hello? Hello? Hello? You’re not going to die.  How low is your mood going to get?

Hello?  Hello?  Hello?  You dolt!  How low do I have to get before things start getting better?

Hello!  Hello!!!   Hello!!!!!!!  It’s always possible for things to start getting better no matter what your current circumstances are.  Unless your condition is terminal…

With the lights out, it’s less dangerous for us girls to go get help.  They can’t see our tears.  We just hope the guidance counselors aren’t thinking “here we are now, entertain us with your stupid decisions.”  Our problems will seem like nothing compared to what the shooting victims and their families are going through.  I feel stupid because these psychological scars are painful and they weren’t contagious.  The guys aren’t suffering.

“Here we are now,” cry the scars, “entertain us by going back to your bad habits.  Numb your pain the only way you know how.”

A mulatto, an albino, and a mosquito all bring back warm memories of sixth grade spelling tests, just three years ago, back before I let myself be conquered by my libido.  I miss my childhood.

Music

(Photo credit: mag3737)

A denial: “The sex and violence in the media today had not been around for very long before Columbine.   Today’s problems are not an extension of anything older than the students.  We weren’t like this and we didn’t create this.”

A denial: “Why worry?  Things turned out fine for people like Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love.”

A denial: “All we have to do is fix the popular culture and everything will be okay.”

A denial: “There’s no way we could have prevented these shootings.”

A denial: “These shootings could have been prevented if we had been more vigilant.”

A denial: “I’ve fallen too low.  There’s no way back up.”

A denial: “Nothing I do today could possibly ruin the rest of my life.”

A denial: “My kids would never do anything like that.”

A denial: “All teenagers are like this.  None of them have the strength to resist.”

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2 thoughts on “The New “Teen Spirit” Insults My Intelligence

  1. Pingback: Writing Rules Insult My Intelligence | Bumblepuppies

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