Before disco this country was a dancing wasteland. You know the Woodstock generation of the 1960’s that were so full of themselves and conceited? None of those people could dance. — Charlotte Pingress, The Last Days Of Disco

Boomers get a lot of hate, much of it very well deserved. But there’s a specific subculture of early Generation X that doesn’t get enough hate and I’m going to try to fix that. That is, of course, the early Gen X “punk rockers.” The Boomer have nothing on these people when it comes to self-important sniffing of their own farts and off the charts narcissism.

You have to give the Boomers this: they had some great music and beautiful long-haired hippie chicks wearing miniskirts when they weren’t skinny dipping. The punks? Even their chicks were ugly and their music sucked. You know, the old joke, right?

Q: What does the hippie say when the acid wears off?

A: Wow, Phish really sucks!

But the punks, at least some of whom were straight-edge, don’t even have that excuse. Lots of them listened to punk rock totally sober and still thought it was good. But punk rock isn’t good, it sucks. It’s the most terrible excuse for pop music ever in the history of pop music. Don’t give me that stupid ass line, “three chords and an attitude.” Plenty of people made great three chord rock that was good and didn’t suck. Don’t give me that shit about “reacting to the excesses of Pink Floyd-era arena rock.” Plenty of people made simple, straightforward, plain music that didn’t suck.

You know who couldn’t make music that didn’t suck? Punks, that’s who.

I read an article once about the demise of Mad Magazine. I’m not even going to get into the Jewish angle, but the point was that young boys hit a certain age and basically they get rejected by society, and Mad appealed to that exact demographic. If society is going to reject us, we’re going to thumb our noses at everyone and make crude jokes.

You understand. Little boys are cute. But once you hit pre-puberty and early puberty, about the age of, say, eleven to maybe fourteen, boys turn gross and ugly. You start to stink, literally, the composition of your underarm sweat changes and you start to stink. You get zits all over your face, literally, pus starts coming out of your face. You get that stupid looking wispy moustache and you never know if you are supposed to shave it or not.

When you were a little boy, the girls were always bothering you, trying to kiss you, claiming you as their boyfriend, and wanting to hold your hand, and of course you are mostly not interested. Girls are boring, it’s way more fun to hang out with your friends. But you hit that age, and all of a sudden everything changes. All of a sudden those older girls are absolutely intoxicating, and even girls your age start to look good. But of course girls your age think you’re disgusting. Sure, they get crushes on the older boys, sixteen or so, but all of a sudden you like them and they think you’re gross.

And to make the whole process more awful and more humiliating, you are basically a walking boner. You don’t even have to be thinking anything, it just pops up at the most humiliating time for no reason and everyone laughs.

Truly, being a pre-teen boy is the most miserable experience. Nature’s big joke.

At this time, you are constantly hungry, shoveling massive amounts of food down your throat, and you are growing like a weed. One of my friends grew so tall and so fast he got stretch marks on his back. You know, those weird purple lines that pregnant women get sometimes on their belly, from the skin stretching. Yes, that. Imagine.

Then of course you are angry and surly and you don’t even know why. All of a sudden your play fights with your friends turn real – real anger. You start giving lip to your mom, then you dad smacks you for being disrespectful. You start to hate everything and everybody.

Well, since this is a universal experience, at least for North Western European Moralistic Egalitarian Individualist like us, our culture has a way of dealing with this process. First, Little League soccer. That at least helps you burn off all the excess energy just by running around until you’re exhausted. But Presbyterians, they had an even more potent cure. It’s like Boy Scouts, but way, way cooler.

It’s Christian Militia. The Army of God. Jesus Camp. And it’s the greatest thing ever for pre-teen, early teen boys.

Our dads gave us fifty bucks, and Glenn took us to the Army surplus store and we were fitted out in genuine US Army olive drab fatigues and bad ass leather boots. We each got a freaking knife. Then Glenn took us to the back yard of the church, made us line up, “at attention” at started screaming at us. It was straight out of Full Metal Jacket but no cursing – the worst he called us was “maggots.”

“You’re all a bunch of no good punks, disrespecting your parents, disobedient, angry, sinners. Well that is all over now. I’m going to turn you into men. When I’m done with you, you are going to be strong, smart, disciplined, tough. You are going to say ‘yes sir and yes ma’am.’ You are going to do well in school. You are going to eat right and be healthy. You are going to be real men, the type of men your father and mother will be proud of, and more importantly, the kind of men Jesus will be proud of! Atten … hut!”

Then he would make us do pushups until it fucking hurt, then when we could barely lift ourselves an inch off the ground, he’d make us do more. We did calisthenics – he made us hold our arms and and do little circles, then big circles, until it fucking burned. Then we had to line up and march around and sing chants.

The only one I remember – the oldest boy, Mike, he was about 16 so he got to be “sergeant.” He had longish blonde hair and all the little girls adored him. So we chanted, “the sergeant’s hair is yellow and curls, all he thinks about is them girls!”

At first, I hated it. Then, I kind of liked it. By the end of it, I loved it.

We’d do “drill” every Saturday, then after a few weeks we were told we were going on a “mission.” So one of the fathers from church rented a box truck, they stuck us all in the back – it was dark, pitch black – and drove for what must have been hours to the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I told my wife about this, and she said, “Oh my god, this is child abuse!” And I said, “are you kidding? It was freaking awesome!

We got out, made camp, did a bit of drilling, then this complicated game of Capture the Flag. We had bottle rocket wars. We learned how to skin fish – we caught what we ate. We sometimes got into fights with each other, and I learned how to stand up for myself. When the “officers” – Sergeant Mike, General Glenn, and Major Tom – went out on “reconnaissance” – well, I was just about the youngest kid, and one of the other boys was always kind of bullying me. You know, I had had enough, and I shoved him. He shoved me back. I socked him right on his jaw – it landed – he tackled me and we wrestled a bit until the other boys broke it up. But after that, well, he didn’t mess with me anymore. We were never really “friends” per se, but we mostly got along after that.

Sometimes they would take us to “work parties” where we would go to one of the church member’s houses and haul firewood, or clear brush, or some other such thing. That sucked, and wasn’t any fun really, but I guess it was better than sitting in front of the TV. After our “missions” we would be “debriefed” and given “awards.” Since I was the youngest kid, and really couldn’t stop from being tackled by the older boys during Capture the Flag, well I could run and zig zag back and forth fast enough to delay the inevitable. So I got the award for “field evasion.” Everyone laughed. At first it seemed a little embarrassing, but I actually felt proud. I mean, I had earned it and everyone knew why.

Then one day I noticed it, the magic happening. We got back from a “mission” late for Church, the preacher was already well into his sermon. So Glenn tells us, “go inside, line up in the back, stand at attention until the pastor is finished.” So well all do, then, something amazing happens.

All the girls – the same girls that thought we were gross – they were all turning around, looking at us, flipping their hair and giving us smiles and winks. Once we were in that uniform, and doing something “secret” that the girls didn’t know about, well, all of a sudden they were very interested again. Not just the older boys, but even us younger ones, the ones that before they thought we were gross and wouldn’t give us the time of day. All of a sudden we were back to being told we were one or the other’s “boyfriend” – whether we liked it or not, it hardly mattered. Then, of course, they would invite us out back for some kissing time.

It totally worked. We went from boys, to men. Young men, sure, but men nevertheless.

I bring this up to contrast it to another subculture I was exposed to a little bit later. D. C. Punk. When I was old enough to take the bus and the Metro into the city, I’d go to Georgetown to this store, Commander Salamander, that sold punk rock records and Doc Marten boots. And fetish gear, though I didn’t know that is what it was at the time. I’d see punks hanging around on the street and hang out sometimes. By this point, the DC Punk subculture was mostly over, these were the remnants, the bitter clingers, after most people had moved on to grunge, I guess. They didn’t even call it “punk” anymore, it was “hardcore.”

So of course I wanted to be cool, and I wanted to be rebellious, so I’d buy some punk rock cassette tapes. The main one I remember was Black Flag’s My War. I’d listen to it on headphones so my parents wouldn’t hear.

I wanted so bad to like it, because all the cool kids liked it, but frankly it sucked. Unlistenable garbage. I Can’t Decide has got to be one of the worst atrocities recorded to tape. Just lame. The title song, My War, I mean, it sucks. I can kind of get what they were trying to do, but it’s just third rate – fourth rate, even. Lame songs. Bad Guitar.

Yet everybody acted like it was the coolest thing ever.

So anyway, sometime when I was a teenager, Henry Rollins started getting play on MTV. But not just his music videos, he was always doing what amounts to, like, “motivational speeches.” I thought it was lame then, and lame now. But of course only in hindsight did I realize what “punk” really was, what “DC Punk” was specifically, and what Henry Rollins was there to do – what his cultural role was.

Of course, DC has a huge population of black people, and a lot of them were straight up “ghetto.” So, there was constant low level interracial crime that only went one way – blacks attacking whites, never, not one time, the other way around.

So what happens, naturally? Well, young white boys form gangs, to protect themselves. And of course, always having to watch your back so you don’t get suckered punched by a ghetto black for walking while white, you’re going to start to be, you know, racist.

And that is exactly what the punk rock culture was there to do – stop this natural reactionary white identity from forming. Because “punk,” a totally white subculture, was all about “anti-racism.” “Racist skins” were the enemy. It was, basically, Antifa.

Henry Rollins and his friend Joe Cole were held up at gunpoint, by blacks, in a house invasion. They straight up murdered Cole right on his front lawn. And what does Henry Rollins do? He uses this to preach “Anti-Racism.” He pretended it totally wasn’t racial when it quite obviously was.

His MTV stuff was geared to reach young white boys and steer them into “Social Justice Warriorism.” The entire point was to take that rebellious instinct that young boys have and turn it into worshipping Jews, because Hitler, rejecting any sort of white identity, and ultimately, to be a good consumer and buy his shitty, fifth rate cultural products.

He was even an early pusher of LGBT. Part of his whole gimmick was talking about getting molested by his mother’s boyfriend (surprise, he grew up in a broken home, estranged from his father, imagine that.) So he turns this experience into a lesson about “LGBT acceptance.” I’m guessing now that is what Family Man is all about – so he takes his sexual assault, by a man who was not a “family man” – and turns it into a piece of “spoken word” (lame) meant to attack actual, normal, intact white families, accusing them of all being hypocrites and the like.

The last thing I saw by Henry Rollins was him lecturing Australia to legalize “gay marriage.” I saw the interview, he was like, “come on you guys are above this, you shouldn’t even be having an argument, you’re all terrible for not already passing it.”

You know what? Fuck him. Who is he? Some talentless hack who sucked as a musician, sucked even more as a “spoken word artist” (lame) and hasn’t the slightest interesting insight on anything at all. Fuck him and his stupid opinions – who gives a shit? And mostly, he’s a terrible role model for young boys. What is child abuse is MTV marketing him as some sort of “inspirational figure” for young boys.

Henry Rollins, the entire “punk” subculture, and specifically DC Punk, it was all Social Justice Warriorism before they used that term. It was a consumer friendly subculture meant to not just make money, but to provide an identity for young, working class white youth that would be anti-white, “liberal” even “lefty” and most importantly, “anti-fascist” – Antifa.

That, in and of itself, is bad enough. But the worst part? The music all sucked. All of it. The only “punk” that didn’t suck was the stuff that wasn’t really even punk.

The piercings, the tats, the stupid looking gauges in your ears – the tongue rings – good for sucking dick, I guess. It’s all so fucking gay. Fuck you.

I got into on Reddit one time with this guy. In Vancouver, the Chinese landlords openly discriminate, they don’t hide it. They want other Chinese, not white people. So this guy is complaining. He’s like, yeah that is racist too. I kind of posture as an Asian, and tell him he’s just a racist, and he flips out. He’s like, “hey man I’m an old school punk. I used to fight racist skins on the street! I’m anti-racist!”

These punks, they think they are so cool, and they are so morally righteous, and all they do is sniff their own farts in their self-righteous posturing. They are all just a bunch of fucking losers. The ones who think they are cool because they are “anarchists” or “Marxist” or whatever – all stupid bullshit. You went to college, you got a worthless degree, and you spent your youth listening to shitty music, dressing in dorky, try hard clothing, and getting you ass kicked by “skinheads.”

Nothing but a laughable joke, especially their moronic “politics.”

Black Flag sucked. All of their songs are fifth-rate garbage. The only song that reached fourth-rate is My War. And you know what? This cover band of old fat guys actually did it better than them.

Your young son? Don’t let him get into this stupid ass punk bullshit, or whatever the new subculture they are marketing to kids these days.

Send him to Jesus camp instead.