Wednesday, September 16, 2009

You are not a vampire

Nope. Sorry, you're just not. I don't care what it says on your Facebook or your MySpace or your Twitter, because you're just not a vampire. Actually, even if vampires existed (which they don't, consequently making me so certain that you are not one), I'd gather that you probably wouldn't really want to be one anyway. Oh really? I don't understand the pain inside you and you really really do want to be a vampire? You sure about that?

Here's the thing about vampires: it doesn't matter what some fat, unpopular, Mormon chick dreamed up as her perfect scenario to escape her fat, unpopular, Mormon life (and then sold by the millions to other fat, unpopular girls of varied but equally retarded belief systems) because none of it is true. The whole sparkle-skinned, able to fly, don't melt into blistering sores out in daylight bullshit--it's all just that: bullshit. What makes me such an expert on vampires, you ask? Did I take some kind of upper level college course on them or something?

Actually, I did.

Yes, at the University of Pittsburgh there is a course called "Vampires: Blood and Empire," and my A in that class I believe makes me about as much of an expert as anybody can be about something that doesn't fucking exist. So let me educate your asses. Being a vampire sucks. If you've read any vampire-related literature, or seen any vampire-related movies pre-dating Stephanie Meyer's Twilight, you'll know just how shitty being a vampire is. You are forever stuck in your body, for the rest of time itself and then probably beyond that, watching the people around, your friends, your family, all get old and weak and die. Plus, half the time you can't even hang out with them because you can't help but want to eat the shit out of them. Either that, or your ass is being chased all around town for murdering people. Chances are, you're not going to be falling in love with every dipshit high school bitch you stumble upon for a thousand years; you're probably going to be pretty surly.

That's the whole intriguing part about vampires. They're not soulless beasts like mummies or werewolves, they've got far more complex issues. They are trapped in a netherworld, despite their normal appearance, and they can never interact with the rest of humanity in the same way again, no matter how much they want to. Watch the brilliant Francis Ford Coppola film, Bram Stoker's Dracula, or The Hunger (with David Bowie!) and see how fucking painful it is to be a vampire. The torment you are put through at every turn. But you're already tormented, right? Mom and dad didn't let you go to that My Chemical Romance show, so you drew on your arms in sharpie, and then they got even more pissed, so now you're grounded. Man. If you were a vampire, you'd show them.

No, you wouldn't. You'd start to feel pretty terrible about that decision to become a vampire when you realized you'd watch your entire family die around you and be cursed to a solitary existence for all eternity. Not to mention you don't have a reflection, you can't eat Italian food anymore (garlic!), you have to sleep in a coffin with dirt from your homeland... oh yeah, and you can't go outside in the daylight ever again. You hear that Stephanie Meyer? YOU CAN'T GO OUTSIDE IN DAYLIGHT!

But she wrote it, she gets to decide! Nope. Not true. There is a pretty long-standing set of rules about vampires that have been in existence long before Miss Meyer decided to wipe her fat ass across three hundred pages and call it a bestseller. Some of them bend, and others come and go with the fashion of the times, but a standard was set way in advance of the travesty that is Twilight being put to print. Being a vampire isn't about cute boys and floating around through the trees and eternal love blah blah shut the fuck up. It's about pain and suffering and isolation and drinking blood.

You're not a vampire. I don't care if you're on MySpace with your little stupid fangs, or on some forum talking to other "vampires" or on some fucked up dating site trying to meet, date and marry your perfect blood-sucking match. You're just not one. And to prove it, I'll make you a deal. For the next few months, I have decided to let four pints of blood every two weeks. The entire operation will be overseen by medical professionals and my blood will be safely and hygienically stored in a cool, dry place. If you really think you're a vampire and want to make me eat my words, you can choose between two courses of action:

Option 1: You can purchase some of this blood to drink in four pint containers. You must document this via video from start to finish, send it to me, and I will post it to YouTube when legitimacy is verified, as well as hosting it here on the Hypermagic Headphase.

Option 2: You can actually come to see me in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and drink my blood right in front of me. You won't have to pay a nickel. In fact, if you're into it, I will slit my wrist right then and there, and you can suck the very life force from my veins. Not that you'd need me to do that--you can just puncture my neck with your fangs and do it that way.

FURTHERMORE, in the course of either of these events, you may not throw up, cry, or even cringe. YOU MUST APPEAR TO ENJOY EVERY SECOND OF IT. If you're really a vampire, this shouldn't be a problem. But don't think I'm being mean here! I'm just trying to help you achieve your dream! Or "be yourself," if that's what you're calling it, along with thirty million other screaming seventh grade girls and bored housewives in loveless marriages. I'll tell you what: if you choose Option 2 and come visit me, I'll even throw in two night's stay in historic and beautiful Lancaster County. I'm no slouch! I'm sure I can knock together a nice tight pine box coffin in a day or two. You should be plenty comfy in there, right?

Wrong. You're not a vampire.


  1. yes yes yes yes yes. Ha, sorry this was just incredible and really amazing. You should be proud of being so awesome.

  2. watch yourself sir, there are plenty of self-deprecating teens who would love to join your gloomy cult of blood drinkers. you see they are just simply misunderstood with their liberal use of black eye-liner and bangle bracelets to cover the self induced wounds, fearful of going out into the light of day, of facing the world and of course unrequited, forbidden love affairs.
    you just might have a few knocks at your door before long.