Some would call my suddenly blogging about Emo kids a transparent attempt to plug the newest Those Aren't Muskets! sketch. Those people would do well to chill the fuck out and enjoy some embedded video. I'll meet you on the other side with some exciting news about Mexico.
Well, here we are on the other side. Hopefully you're not all laughed out, because I have some tragically hilarious news to share with you. Specifically, that Mexicans have once again done the dirty work we couldnât do ourselves by beating the living crap out of a bunch of eye shadow-wearing, spiked hair-having, My Chemical Romance-listening Emo kids.
You read that correctly (unless you didn't); there are currently riots raging in Mexico during which people rove the streets, muttering to one another about âthese goddamned kids with their striped shirts and black nail polishâ (in Spanish mind you), looking for gaggles of hipsters sitting on a parking lot divider to hit with a two by four.
They follow the sounds of Dashboard Confessional like a homing beacon, and then release their collective fury on behalf of all of us who have ever heard a Death Cab for Cutie album and thought âJesus, does this asshole seriously want me to feel sorry for him because he feels bad about cheating on his girlfriend? Iâd like to punch him in the mouth.â
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Things have gotten so bad for the Emos that police have had to come in and protect them, a civic duty somewhat akin to guarding a child molester while he moves from one cell block to another.
Thousands of presumably weeping Emos have started gathering in protest, foolishly making it all the easier for beefy Mexicans to round them up and smack the white lipstick off of their pimply faces. Put that in your livejournal, bitches.
Fights have even broken out between the various subsets of self-involved Mexican teens. Marauding bands of Rockabilly kids clash with the Metalheads and Emos like itâs all some ridiculous re-enactment of The Warriors.
Which, if it is, they should have better group names, like âthe dEMOlitionistsâ or âRockaKILLy.â âRockabillyâ just doesnât have the panache of âThe Orphans.â Speaking of which, something I always wondered about that movie: if theyâre penniless orphans, how did they all afford to get matching sets of rags made that say âThe Orphansâ on the back?
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But I digress. Hey, take a look at this Mexican anti-Emo hate site!
Most of it is just bleeps and blips to me (I only read the Queenâs English), but I notice something about Emo being âgayâ there on the right, and the linking article tells me they call themselves an âAnti-Emo Death Squad.â
You know, Iâm beginning to think this could be just the kind of important cause Mexico can finally gather behind. I predict weâll be hearing a lot more from these brave citizens.
Iâd watch out if I were you, Scenesters (Jesus, just look at them. I can hardly stand it).
I know you say you âhate Emo kidsâ too, but somehow I doubt Construction Worker Pedroâs going to appreciate the finer nuances of whiny junior high fashion trends.
One day youâll be âjiving squaresâ at the mall, rabidly discussing how superior you are to that bitch Kimberly and her imitation checkered converse, and BAM! Right to the back of your black bouffant hairdo.
And you know what you naÃ¯ve, cruel little shits? Iâll be at the Orange Julius next door in a plain white t-shirt, slippers and Pink Floyd pajama bottoms, and Iâll laugh until frothy cream shoots out my nose.
When not blogging for Cracked, Michael plugs the hell out of Those Aren't Muskets!