[Soundtrack provided by civil rights leaders violently rolling over in their graves.]

Walk Around In Cycles
Over time, everyone who lives long enough develops a philosophy -- a set of truths they hold self-evident on the world and their place in it. There's certainly no shortage of ready-made ones for the unwashed masses of jackasses that prefer to make sense of their lives with fortune cookies, horoscopes, and cults with free snacks and kickin' uniforms. Personally, I subscribe to what I call the Daria Principle; where every situation in life being an analog of high school, which in turn is a watered-down version of the theory that history repeats itself in a brutal chronological cycle for which there is no tampon. It's sort of evocative of how life is like a box of chocolates if you're a boring, pointless movie.

This principle of perpetual puberty leaves one making their way painfully through the digestive system of existance: a thesis of feces that suggests life as a Taco Bell entree, as it were. So when shit turns out, it starts over as either sewage or fertilizer: something better, or something far, far worse, personal philosophies notwithstanding.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, may I direct your attention to the exit turnoff for the 1950's. Welcome back! It's missed you.

Whack And Blight
With each passing month this new millenium is becoming depressingly more and more like the last one. How is the above article even an issue? This should be an article on how brilliant X2 is compared to the original, not on an topic that was supposedly settled decades ago. I thought color separation in this day and age only went as far as the laundromat, but apparently racism has just been waiting for its load of whites to dry, so it could put on its bedsheet and pointed hood. But hey; maybe at my own prom I just missed the step in doing the Time Warp that involved segregation.

The surreality and hypocrisy of defending an institution I utterly despise confuses me just as much as you. To me, prom is nothing but a horrid vampiric ceremony concerning parents who squandered their youth trying to relive their glory days through their children. Yes, we should respect our elders, but some tradtions should just die with them in the poorly staffed rest homes they'll stay in (this goes for prom as well). While we may be losing touch with our older generation, going the route of seperate drinking fountains and lunch counters are not ways to win them back. Were they going to distinguish which dance was which by the flaming cross out front?

Losing The Race
For this type of thing, there are no excuses. None. If something as simple as Vanilla Coke cannot teach us the deliciousness of combining our differences and letting them carbonate, then Dr. King and President Kennedy have truly been failed by their descendants. Don't try and hide the point behind 'what about ethnic scholarships/ Michael Jackson's skin color/ a third thing that I can't think of'. I'm tired of the South being treated like the inbred retarded cousin that the rest of the nation has to make excuses for because it throws tantrums and loses bowel control. Besides, we all know that Michael's pretty much his own race now - fucking crazy.

And who wants to hear a BET comedian equipped with the new joke about how black people and white people go to the prom differently?