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Opinion: You’re Not Punk and I’m Telling Everyone

Well, well, well…look who we have here. If it isn’t Mr. “Punk” himself…

That’s what you call yourself, right? “Punk”? That’s funny because I don’t see a single Subhumans, Crass, or Discharge patch on that battle jacket. Doesn’t sound very “punk” to me.

Who do you think you’re fooling? Huh? That mohawk you’re sporting…I bet it’s never been visited even once by a single drop of Elmer’s glue. Just gel and a hair dryer, am I right? Poseur scum.

Well guess what? Your little charade is coming to an end, my friend. I know you’re not punk and I’m telling everyone.

What do you think is going to happen when all your friends and loved ones find out that you’re not punk? What are your colleagues at work going to think? How will they feel when they learn that the “zine” you founded was made by a graphic designer you hired on Upwork? They’ll probably disown you. I would. It’s called “do it yourself” for a fucking reason you fucking piece of human garbage.

And how do you think your wife is going to react when she learns that her husband of 10 years is a poseur? I bet she’ll be shocked when she finds out her good-for-nothing “punk” husband probably had a new wave band in college with a stupid name like Banana Banana or Parliament of Owls instead of a tough street punk band with a cool name like Puss. She’ll probably divorce you. I would.

Oh and you better believe I’m telling your boss. I think your employer will be very interested to know that all those “smoke breaks” you take are actually to go chew candy cigarettes in the alleyway. They’re going to ridicule you so hard that you’re going to want to quit your job. Which you should. You worthless fucking shithead.

It didn’t have to be this way, man. There were roads not traveled, GBH buttons on denim vests not placed, M16 bullet belts not worn. You could have bought real Docs instead of knockoffs at Marshalls. But you wouldn’t listen and now I’m telling everyone you know that you’re not punk.