The Dharma Bum

By Jaysen Buterin

"Be my spiderwoman, I'll be your spiderman." - The Charlatans UK

To geek or not to geek? Often times my dear denizens of the OFF! realm, that is the real question. For it is a less-than well-known fact that according to the Chinese calendar (you know that crazy thing with dogs, monkeys, dragons, and bitten wax tadpoles) the year 2002 is not the year of the rat, the boar, or the snake (despite all the political figures they bear an uncanny resemblance to) but instead kids, it is the year of the geek. In fact, in ancient Manchurian, 2002 is the numerical equivalent to

"li-mu-bai," which evolved into the Cantonese word "j-lo," which as we all know was absorbed into the Chinese lexicon shortly after the Boxer Rebellion as "long-duc-dong" which means "geek." Okay, not really, but I'm sure for the mullet-inclined they believe me and that's really all that matters because if it weren't for the mullet, humanity's entire perception of good and evil and of order in the universe would fade away faster than Baretta can get to his white Bronco...okay, not really, but I'm still pro-mullet all the way and would like the mulletia out there to know that the dharma bum fully endorses the mullet community.

Despite geek chic's Hydrean abilities to weave its tentacles into almost every facet of Americana from nocturnal sociological observation field-trips to Wal-Mart at three in the morning, to the 37-year-old fanboy still living in his parent's basement downloading what he thinks are stolen scripts and spoilers off the Internet while lambasting and denigrating the same movie stars and directors for their temerity and lack of artistic vision that they

cannot seem to ever stop talking about in the first place, to the

26-year-old tattooed poet who takes off from his full-time university job to go work at a comic book store - never actually receiving monetary reimbursement for his services (which he'd just use for more tattoos) but rather gets paid in comic books and action figures that he runs home to play with - seeking asylum in his man-room that really looks more like a little kid's room with toys, comic books, and games spread all over the place amidst wall-to-wall books and posters. Boy, am I glad I don't know any of these poor deluded bastards. Despite all this and more, many boys and girls out there remain unaware as to the exponentially diverse spectrum of geek-dom, and as you all know spider-friends, I'm here to help, so sit back, buckle up - or unzip - your choice, and get ready for a magical mystery tour.

First off, "geeks" have transcended their mid-80s temporality, alongside such other less-than-flattering sobriquets such as "dweeb," "spaz," "dork," and my all-time personal favourite, "nerd," to become one of the great binaries of Western culture. For some time, and even still vivacious in many parts of the country today, it was cool to be uncool. Sort of like that whole "bad" means "good" thing, which I always had problems keeping up with but that's just because I was never cool. Once at the bottom of the totem pole in that lovely crucible of high school histrionics, the same geeks that those silly people (the ones with their names sewn on the back of their varsity letter-jackets so that they'd get at least one answer right on test day) used to pick on, shove in lockers, and mock, now own the multi-billion dollar companies whose employees frequent the fast food establishment where the aforementioned silly person is "Head Fry-Cook" at, still telling 15 year-olds about his prom night and the big game like some sort of bad Al Bundy imitation. Of course not all geeks rise to such entrepreneurial and monolithic stature - some just graduate with honours from the same university that the girl he asked to be his date to the junior prom - but was utterly rejected by the electric biases her father had towards boys with long hair - also attended but had to drop out from because she couldn't deal with the responsibility that comes with autonomy. Some geeks rose from the ashes of a close-minded high school hierarchical competition to deliver the graduation commencement address, where their speech (poetically and meticulously composed to elucidate an intense depth of emotions) was passed over in favour of some silly tart who strung a few words together about Peter Pan in a desperate attempt at metaphor - all because one looked like J. Crew while the other looked like Jay and Silent

Bob. Yet faster than they can hop on pop, they all endless rush to talk about the "good ole days" when you happen to run into them waiting in line at a grocery store where they've actually managed to stop having kids for five minutes so that they can buy their Mad Dog and Spam in peace.

But the important thing to remember kids is not to hold a grudge. Be thankful that you didn't rise up in the cafeterias and stab them with your plastic sporks - its cool to be uncool - always remember that. Tune in next issue, same bat-time, same bat-channel, for the second installment of the revenge of the nerds...I mean, the explication and analysis of geek chic where we'll look at the rarest and wildest members of the geek phylum, from the stunningly handsome action geek, to the rugged sexual appeal of the executive geek, to the near-extinct "Panic Room" loving D&D geek. So as the sun sets slowly in the west I bid you a fond farewell from my comic book/action figure sanctuary where I sit and mark off the days on my Lord of the Rings calendar with Machiavellian glee, counting down until the ten-year high school reunion where I will amaze one and all with the life-changing revelation that it was I who invented Post-It Notes. G'night kids.