Freak Fest

Freak:
1. A thing or occurrence that is markedly unusual or irregular: A freak of nature produced the midsummer snow.
2. An abnormally formed organism, especially a person or animal regarded as a curiosity or monstrosity.

Fest:
1. A gathering or occasion characterized by a specified activity. Often used in combination: a music fest; a chilifest.

Both of these definitions failed to prepare me for this year's Ozzfest. I willingly volunteered to work the university booth - hadn't been to Ozzfest since it truly was a concert featuring Ozzy. My thought - Ozzy is the cake - the rest of the bands are just yummy, satanic frosting.

Since Ozzy doesn't do his namesake fest anymore, I figured I'd go work the event to people watch and hear some bands that I didn't know. Perhaps I'd find some new music and get reacquainted with my semi-dormant freakself.

The epiphany that I was no longer one of the freaks came the second I stepped out of my car in the parking lot.

warning, graphic exposure to disgusting language and stupid people ensues

"Fissssssstttttttttffffffuuuuuucccccckkkk!"

The word roared through the speakers. The bass voice, probably destroyed from barking filthy lyrics into his hairbrush as he danced in front of the mirror in his youth, was inhuman. "Chant it, bitches! Fist - F*ck! Fist - F*ck!" The microphone quivered.

The mindless automatons in the audience follow his fistf*ck cry as he talks about your mom, your dad, your friends, how you should do it in the car.

"Who wants to Fistf*ck?!" Again discharging the snarling, scream-bark through the reverberating speakers.

1, 2, 3 - Not It!

In that instant, I knew. I knew I would no longer classify myself as a freak. I knew that given the choice between Republicans and Fistf*ckers, I'd choose Republicans. I knew my freakdays were over. Might as well pack up the collar and riding crop and sell them at my next garage sale or put them in the pink bag for bi-yearly collection by the Vietnam Vets.

Knowing that I was no longer one of them, I still chose to go inside and work the booth. Situated between the bong shop with the blanket backdrop of the black-haired, buxom bong-toting babe and the game "Kick me in the F*cking Head Bitch," our booth still managed to attract some semi-strange spooks wanting to play "Guitar Hero" on the X-Box.

The world traveled by to the score of disjointed, talentless music with lyrics that would make a retro punkrocker blush. It was a sea of mullets, Mohawks, Mull-hawks, skunk-do's, and various fuzz-heads as fried as their hair. There were Twisted Bitch t-shirts, "Enjoy Refreshing Vagina" shirts, and clothing that expressed every-which-way-to-iterate-fuck possible. Weed wreaths, mary-jane flavored candy. Asses, boobs, painted skin, tattooed and pierced everythings - the standard.

These were not the things that bothered me.

It was the kids.

The 11 year olds decked out like a walking advertisement for weed. 5 year olds in beer tees. Kids wearing Jack Daniels label shirts. The 7 or 8 year old boy with the Trojan Condom headwrap. The 10-12 year old girls showing what their growing. These little kids - who were with their parents - were being treated as adults - revered for their "adult" clothing. I don't care what kind of antisocial anomoly your think you are, a t-shirt with the word Fuck isn't appropriate for a young child.

I finally left the show midafternoon, in despair for our future. As I walked through the front gate, I'm sure I heard sure some 10 year old chanting "fistf*ck".

*changed to prevent people searching for the word from ending up at my website. i've already lost most of my faith in humanity - i don't need to fall into complete despair.