Far be it for me to call people out on their predilections toward lifestyle, music choice, fashion sense, whatever. Hell, I’m barely holding my own what with my greasy hair, mutton chops and an iPod full of 4 decades of heavy metal… I really have no place ragging on anybody for their choice of lifestyle but, I do have a podium so I will do some pulpiteering.
It appears that there is a growing werewolf population in San Antonio. WAIT WAIT WAIT!!! Before you go grabbing your torch and pitchfork maybe I should rephrase this:
It appears that there is a growing “Werewolf” population in San Antonio. See what I did? I used quotation marks to indicate irony, and not the kind of irony hipsters exploit to wear tight pink unicorn t-shirts while sporting Magnum P.I. mustaches. This irony says “BULLSHIT!”
So, back to ramming my short sighted opinion down your throat. I’m all for groups of like minded people hanging and doing their thing; A clutch of rockers with long hair that jam and listen to Slayer, a football team that has keggers while tormenting geeks and nerds, a harem of hot goth chicks that dye each others hair, listen to The Birthday Massacre and make out… whatever, that thing you do, you’re doing it, good for you. Did I mention the hot goth chicks?
Apparently there is this kind of oddball, imaginary, teenage fairy tail escapism that I just can’t abide by. I’m looking at you Furries, Vampires and more recently you guys down in San Antonio, the Teenage Werewolves. It’s not that I don’t have an imagination, hell I played with Voltron and Transformers well into the age where grown dudes look to play with boobies not toy robots. So like I said, I’m really not one to judge but hey… I will.
I can’t imagine that the Misfits actually thought themselves undead or that Slipknot considers themselves escaped mental patients but it seems like this is just what these “werewolf” teens want us to believe. They bare the familiar garb of the goth/emo sect; Hot Topic pre-distressed “vintage” punk wear created in a factory, black eyeliner, studs, spikes, rivets you name it but then, there is the tail. Yep, I said tail as in a fake animal appendage stuck on a human butt. They howl at the full moon when their moms and dads let them out and they leash themselves up when just hanging around.
All in all it seems pretty harmless but I can’t seem to get passed imagining to be a mythical creature. I mean, what’s next? Centaurs? Mermaids? Fairies? I totally get digging the style and looking like a monster, trying to stand out among all the normals on a Wednesday afternoon in the mall food court. But saying, or better yet, identifying yourself as a werewolf, I call bullshit. By definition a werewolf is a “person with the power to turn into a wolf.” If you can’t do that then I guess you can’t really call yourself a werewolf. At the same rate, Dr. Phil, you can’t call yourself a doctor.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have some good ol’ flesh eatin’, herd cullin’, apex predators out and about thinning out the human race but the fact of the matter is, we just aren’t that fortunate.