A Friday Rant: Angsty Vampires
Posted by Alan Edwards
First off, sorry it’s been so long since I rapped at ya (thanks, Jim Anchower) but, well, shit happens. This week, it happened for me a lot. Back to the show. Oh, and serious profanity ahead.
It’s ubiquitous now. It’s as ingrained in our culture as breathlessly reporting on the antics of a bunch of skanks and meatheads. It’s everywhere we go, everywhere we turn.
Angsty fucking vampires.
Oh yes, I’m making light of it. My human mind cannot imagine the trials and tribulations of the aged vampire, whose last tenuous ties to humanity seem to fray ever further with every passing century, and how that forces him into contemplation of all that has withered and died around him while he must endure, lithe and handsome as ever. The ennui that sets in, the yearning to connect with a human heart and yet cannot, for he is forever separated from those beautiful yet flawed creatures. He attempts over and again, skipping around the country to pose as a high school student so that he can find that innocence that he himself has lost and can never regain but like a moth to flame he must fly ever closer, knowing he shall burn but oh, the beauty and lure are too intoxicating and he must strive to satisfy the yearning in the soul that he has lost. Or, perhaps he alights to Europe, preferably France, where he can clothe himself in the latest fashions and slip through the night, the nattily-dressed loner, brooding as he looks on some relic of the past, seeing it as a reflection of himself, a lost piece of history thrust into a world so alien to their youth, yet forced to remain, unchanged and overlooked by the seething masses of people too wrapped up in their short but wonderful lives to notice them.
Fuck you, Anne Rice. I blame you for all this shit.
Yeah, it must be really fucking tough to be a vampire. All the immortality and super strength and speed, the dashing good looks, the need to never work a shitty shift at a fucking Burger King to help pay for the goddamn mortgage and the three snot-nosed brats back at the house. It must be un-fucking-bearable to outlive every douchebag and tool that ever lived. Healing every wound but the ones that strike your precious heart must be terrible, so much worse than the paraplegic who will be stuck in a chair for the rest of his life. Oh, for all of these gifts, you’ll never again see the sunrise.
You know what, I fucking hate seeing the sun rise. Either I’m up way too fucking early to do something I don’t want to do and accommodate someone else’s schedule, or I’ve been partying all night long and the sun is like the asshole bouncer coming up and telling everyone to get out, party’s over. So suck it up, you fucking pansy.
But oh, they must feed on humans, taking their blood in a ritual that is basically a nine-fucking-minute orgasm, apparently. Yeah, that must be pretty fucking rough. I go through that every time I eat a microwave burrito, myself. So fuck you.
I know I personally often go to jungles and watch the apes, sadly forlorn that no longer do I have to eat live ants and throw my shit at other things that are looking to fucking eat me. I really fucking miss connecting with my Inner Ape, and I too fret that I no longer have that innate Apeness that makes them so innocent and yet too distant for me to ever reconnect with.
What the fuck do vampires want to reconnect with their lost humanity for anyway? I sure as shit don’t try to connect with my cheeseburger. I don’t fucking get it. I could totally see some vamps playing the Angst Card, you know, trying to pick up that hot gender of choice at the bar by being all brooding and sensitive while simultaneously knocking some dude 30 feet across the room with a backhanded swipe. I imagine that gets them a lot of action. I’d respect them if it was a fucking act.
What happened to the vampires of yore? The amoral badass motherfuckers looking out some castle window making some creepy remark about the children of the night just to make someone piss their pants? That’s how a vampire should act. Top of the Food Chain, baby, Top of the Fucking World. You can go ahead and Masquerade my ballsack. Like Tracy Lords and Stephen Dorff in Blade. They had it right. That’s how a vampire should act.
So fuck you, angsty vampires. Go fuck yourselves in the ear. While you’re shedding your blood tears and putting on your fucking inch-thick eyeliner, look in the mirror (presuming you can see yourself. If not, that would explain the shitty eye makeup) and tell yourself this: quit acting like a fucking moony 15-year-old little bitch and act like you enjoy yourself. You’re fucking immortal. Live like it.