Bug-Eaters
Grade school was my first real exposure to society, and the various types of people that make up the human race. We were crammed together in an institutional setting for eight hours a day, five days a week with a few hundred other kids ranging in age from 5 to 12. If I was dumped into that situation now I’d suspect I’d died and gone to Hell.
It was there I first met the bullies, wimps, introverts, extroverts, smartasses, dumbasses, overachievers, underachievers, jocks, brains, liars, believers, charmers, schemers, followers and leaders that I’d encounter for the rest of my days. (I think I just wrote the lyrics to a Billy Joel song...) People can hide their true nature for a little while, but when you’re exposed to anyone long enough it’ll always reveal itself. This is the entire concept behind reality TV. As a result, by third grade my classmates and I had all grown so familiar with one another that our roles within our mini-society had become pretty well-defined. (I fit into the ‘brain,’ ‘smartass’ and ‘wimp’ categories - to state the obvious.)
With that definition came a certain acceptance. Sure, you may not like the bullies or the liars or the dumbasses, but knowing their true nature allowed you to react accordingly. Acceptance doesn’t equal approval - it’s simply the realization that there’s nothing you can do to change them, so you might as well steer clear. If you can’t beat ‘em, avoid ‘em.
But there was one class of kid no one accepted. A kid who, by whatever cruel twist of fate, had been branded a ‘weirdo’ early in their school career and didn’t possess the charm, brains or brawn to overcome the label. (Maybe there’d been a pants-wetting incident, or an enthusiasm for booger-eating, or a bad haircut and unfortunate ears - or, worst of all, an overeager desperation to be liked.) It seemed like no matter what these kids did to ingratiate themselves to their classmates, it was never enough. Maybe they could buy a half-day of acceptance by bringing their Halloween candy to share with everyone, or a brief membership into the boy’s club by smuggling a couple of dad’s Playboys into their desk. But it’d never last, and before long they’d be back at the bottom of the social ladder.
After a while a kind of desperation would set in with these kids. On some level they realized they’d never be liked, and so decided to settle for being noticed. They were usually the first to debut the trendy new swear words, or hang precariously by their toes from playground equipment, or chuck food against the cafeteria wall to see if it’d stick. They didn’t care if they got in trouble, just so long as they got attention. Positive attention, negative attention - it didn’t matter. Just please, God, acknowledge that they exist.
Once all the swear words had been distributed, the playground equipment dangled from and the food scraped from the walls, these kids would find themselves running out of new material. Think Gallagher circa 1978. As a result the other kids stopped paying attention to their stunts, and their desperation turned frantic. They were forced into ever more disgusting and degrading behavior in an attempt to escape invisibility. Think Gallagher circa 1979 to the present.
It was at this point these kids would inevitably play their trump card, pull out the big guns and go all-in. This is when they’d start eating gross stuff. It might start as a dare - a sandwich that fell on the cafeteria floor, maybe. But the squeals and groans of their classmates would convince them they were on to something, and soon a smorgasbord of ever more disgusting gunk would find its way into their eager maws. From eye boogers and chalk to discarded gum and old cigarette butts, the pattern of outrageous escalation repeated itself. And, as before, soon began to show diminishing results.
Which is when the bug-eating would begin. It’d usually start small, with a pill-bug or something. But even this would escalate - from flies to worms to roaches until some bully would catch something big like a dragonfly or praying mantis and make the inevitable dare. And, surrounded by a group of wide-eyed, slack-jawed classmates, these kids would perform the ultimate act of their outcast lives.
As these kids flashed their toothy, green-gut-covered smiles they never understood this had been their grand finale. There was no topping - or coming back from - this stunt. They were forever after known as “That Kid Who Ate Bugs.” Throughout junior high and high school the label would stick like an insect wing to their front teeth. They were bug-eaters.
I always wondered what happened to those kids. Those pathetic outcasts so desperate for attention - ANY attention - they’d degrade and humiliate and embarrass themselves for the fleeting acknowledgement that they existed.
Then we all got the Internet. And I don’t wonder anymore.
The Internet is chock full of bug-eaters. Don’t believe me? Read the comments section following any news story with even the slightest political slant and you’ll find them. Is it a story about gun control? They’re the ones calling for armed insurrection against the government. Is it a story that mentions President Obama? They’re the ones still screaming about his being a Muslim Kenyan Jihadist. Any story written by a woman asserting her basic human rights will be met with a chorus of ‘C-words,’ while any story written by an African-American concerning racial inequality will result in an avalanche of ‘N-words.’ And not a single one of these posts will actually address the issues, offer solutions, or spell the majority of the words correctly.
These are the Internet Bug-Eaters. They don’t care about anything other than getting attention. Positive attention, negative attention - it doesn’t matter. Just please, God, acknowledge that they exist.
We’re becoming a nation of bug-eaters. A nation of people so desperate to be heard we’ll say anything to get attention. Look at the graphic at the top of this page. I know plenty of gun rights advocates, and while I disagree with them I can safely say not a one of them would agree with the noxious hatred represented in that picture. And you know what? I doubt even the person who made it agrees with it. All they wanted was to produce a howl of outrage as the bug guts exploded down their own throats.
As a result we’re faced with a daily barrage of disgusting behavior from angry people who feel rejected and disenfranchised. People who’ve given up trying to find a place within our society and so have found a place outside it. They don’t contribute, they don’t advance, they don’t even destroy. They ‘stir the pot,’ hoping only to make others as frustrated and pissed off as they are themselves. Your angry denunciation of their knowingly offensive comments is the equivalent of their classmate’s squeal as they chomped down on a butterfly.
This is the part of the essay where I tell you if you ignore them they’ll go away, and you think I’m being unrealistic. But your outrage is what gives them pleasure and encourages them to continue. As you learned with your first pet goldfish, if you stop feeding something it’ll die. Since their own anger is no longer able to sustain them, they need yours.
Let me ask you something – have you ever engaged in what passes for a debate with a bug-eater in which either of you changed the other’s mind? Did the racist suddenly see the error of their ways and agree that all humans are equal? Did you suddenly see the racist’s point that minorities are little more than animals? No, of course not. The most that happens is you end up yelling at someone online who delights in making you the type of person who yells at people online. Except while you gain nothing but a headache and another millimeter ground off your teeth, they’ve received exactly what they desire - attention.
Positive attention, negative attention - it doesn’t matter. Just please, God, acknowledge that they exist.
So when I tell you to ignore them, and you tell me I’m being unrealistic, what you’re saying is I’m overestimating you. That you’re as unable to control your anger as the bug-eaters. And I get it, honest I do. The things they say are so horrible and ignorant you want to grab them and shake them and toss them into the nearest wood-chipper. (Okay, maybe just grab them and shake them. Maybe.)
But confronting them is like giving drugs to an addict, booze to an alcoholic, or a camera to a Kardashian. You’re not the voice of reason, you’re an enabler. And you’re helping enable people who are lowering the level of public discourse to a series of gross-out stunts and offended reactions. Just like their days eating beetles on the playground.
Bug-eaters never evolve – the rest of us can. It’s time we stopped empowering these sad creatures and return them to the ‘weirdo’ status they so richly deserve. If you can’t beat ‘em, avoid ‘em.
Unless they have Playboys. Then we can hang out with them for a little while, I guess.
