Sunday, March 05, 2006

Does High School End?

I just saw a preview for a movie about high schoolers. It seemed to be a parody of high school sterotypes. One segment I found particularly true and funny was where a good looking young girl stood in front of a couple of guys sitting at a bench and stated "Girls with butts like mine don't talk to boys with faces like yours".

There was a time when I genuinely thought that high school would end, and that this display of wicked pubescent humanity was a mere phase we all had to pass. You know exactly what I'm talking about- all the antics of the power heirarchy, the blatantly thick usage of sexual leverage at every locker in every hall of every square inch of the campus. The staring at each other's dicks in the showers, wondering if any of them were penetrating the object of our wet dreams, or wondering how much bigger or smaller so and so's was than yours. The fact that the homecoming king and queen were invariably the most sexually attractive jack off imagery in the school.

Honestly, I kept waiting for it to all end. It's been 14 years since my senior year in high school and there is no end in sight. Every time I imagine that at some point the gig is finally up, they seem to just raise the bar a little higher. What once seemed like blatant power mongering is now a much more subtle and brilliantly orchestrated tangle of deceitful webs and insincerities so socially impenetrable as to render themselves safe from all but the most risky and courageous confrontations. The man is everywhere. He's in my TV, my job site, magazines, radio, my traffic, and he's probably in the free space of my coronary arteries narrowing them bit by bit. The man is having children of his own now. He takes them to church on Sundays, he teaches them how to control people and situations with powerful nuanced glances and verbal posturing with a subtle sprinkle of seemingly benign fake altruism thrown in here and there just to keep the noise down a bit inside the Trojan horse.

You see the parents at the high school sports games, the community events, the raffles, pep rallies, clubs and field trips. You know some thirty something is banging the football player, trying to mend that fatal rejection of her past. You know the math teacher is trying to feign his fatherly smile as the tight breasted wet dream drapes her cleavage over a quadratic equation. Half the P.E. class is terrified of popping a boner in the shower. You've heard stories of teachers making students do push ups on the wet tile until their throbbing monster subsides amidst a half circle of kids who will later talk about "a faggot in the locker room".

He has a big dick, she has a tight pussy, her tits are firm, hers are flat, I fucked her three times, we fucked her four, how long has it been, are you getting any, how many airplanes did you shoot down, how long did you last, it was shaved, it was hairy, it was manicured, it stunk, it tasted clean, she swallowed, it got in her hair, it went on her face, I have a blister on my dick, I farted and she got mad, I used protection, I pulled out at the last second....

Every day, if you remember, every single day. Especially if you played sports after school. They forget. They all forget- the thirty somethings, the forty somethings even more. They don't remember how it was, only the game they play now. All they know is the game they play now, and it's the same game. Its the same exact game with different players and different pieces, more squares to go to, more options, more tragic consequences perhaps. The rules are complex now and there doesn't seem to be an actual penalty for violating most of them, and certain types of people keep reconstructing the rules, and somehow everyone thinks this is okay.

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