Originally Published by American Thinker
For those of you who are very young, or who have spent your days so glued to your cellphones that you haven’t noticed the trashy newspapers in supermarket checkout lanes, Bat Boy was a monster – half boy and half bat – the creation of the Weekly World News. Bat Boy was supposed to have been discovered in a West Virginia cave in 1992. He was two feet tall at the time of his discovery, but grew – as most kids do. He did all sorts of interesting things, including fighting terrorism with the Army on some occasions. He had what might be described as a love-hate relationship with the US government. A perceptive boy if ever there was one.
For those of you who are very young, or who have spent your days so glued to your cellphones that you haven’t noticed the trashy newspapers in supermarket checkout lanes, Bat Boy was a monster – half boy and half bat – the creation of the Weekly World News. Bat Boy was supposed to have been discovered in a West Virginia cave in 1992. He was two feet tall at the time of his discovery, but grew – as most kids do. He did all sorts of interesting things, including fighting terrorism with the Army on some occasions. He had what might be described as a love-hate relationship with the US government. A perceptive boy if ever there was one.
The institution of
the supermarket tabloid goes back as far as I can personally remember. In the 1970’s their pages were about evenly
populated with fictitious monsters, UFO sightings, the wild discoveries of Soviet
scientists, and assorted celebrity gossip.
Stuck in line with your mom and the groceries, you couldn’t help but
look. Sensible people never took the
pre-Photoshop creations of these vulgar newspapers very seriously, but they
have always had a certain appeal to the high school sophomore that lives on
quietly in most of us. When I was young,
whether a kid’s family actually bought the National
Inquirer amounted to a kind of rough IQ test. If they not only bought it but actually believed it, one could assume they were
not exactly overachievers.
If you are
thinking I am going to tell you how Bill and Hillary kidnapped Bat Boy, and how
he subsequently died during salacious activities on Jeffrey Epstein’s “orgy
island,” I will have to disappoint you.
Bat Boy died a more humdrum, more pedestrian death. He was simply upstaged by the increasing circus-like
condition of the real world. The
Clintons were accessories to the crime of course, but Bat Boy’s murder was
committed by progressives and their culture en
masse – and, as usual, no indictment has ever been filed.
Even at the time
of Bat Boy’s discovery, Michael Jackson was well on the way supplanting him in
the tabloid press. Fake freaks do not
compete well against real ones. Bat
Boy’s pointy ears and pointy teeth were no match for Jackson’s pointy nose and
hideously angular face. Simply escaping
from one captor after another didn’t compare with the sensationalism of
Jackson’s real life. When faced with a
half-black, half-white celebrity pedophile wearing a single white glove, what’s
a half-boy, half-bat to do? Run like a
bat out of hell? This, I think, is why
Bat Boy abandoned his life of minor crime, turned over a new leaf, and pursued
a life of national service. Being a good
conservative Appalachian kid at heart, he believed that America would warm to a
military hero more than it would indulge its baser curiosities about a freak. Unfortunately for Bat Boy, and for ourselves,
times and sensibilities had changed. No
amount of heroism could halt his inevitable demise.
The Weekly World News stopped printing
physical papers in 2007, following their readers into the netherworld of
cyberspace a couple of years later. Bat
Boy faded away, his final resting place unknown. Bat Boy’s less patriotic successor is the
equally bizarre but sadly less fictitious monster, “Caitlyn” Jenner. “Caitlyn,” we all know, is half-man and
half-woman. “She” was popularized on
another well-known supermarket magazine, Vanity
Fair. Jenner, then named Bruce, was
also a feature of my childhood grocery memories – appearing on Wheaties cereal boxes as the greatest of
America’s Olympic heroes. The
66-year-old self-made hermaphrodite is still a hero to some, winning the Arthur Ashe Courage Award. I know you already know these things. The problem is not that “you cannot make
these things up”. The problem is that
you no longer have to.
Pretty soon, if we
don’t change the culture’s direction, all forms of satire from the crudest to
the most refined will follow the late Bat Boy into the abyss. As people have begun to turn their cellphone
cameras on themselves the job of freak has far more applicants than available
positions. Freakishness used to be
something I could pick up or leave in the rack like a pack of chewing gum. Now I live in a thoroughly freakish world. Open YouTube
and click the “Trending” button if you feel my assessment has been unduly
harsh. The shrinking list of traditional
tabloids must struggle to think of anything shocking left to print. They are now overwhelmingly populated with
pictures of celebrities turned fat and ugly – something to make supermarket customers
feel a little less bad about the eight packages of Oreos and two gallons of ice
cream nestled in their carts. If you
cannot entertain the public with the bizarre, a bit of schadenfreude will have
to do. At the bitter end, if the trend
continues, perhaps the tabloids will start showing normal people on their
covers. People with any sort of lasting standards
are rapidly becoming the monsters of tomorrow.
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