Go Goth!
First published 3/9/2000

Why is it that everybody wants to wear all-black clothing and look like a vampire, but nobody wants to wrap themselves up in toilet paper and be The Mummy?

Is it Anne Rice’s fault? I mean, she’s a popular novelist and everything, but so is John Grisham and you don’t see people who read his books dressed up like judges. I don’t get it.

I suppose I shouldn’t make fun. "Goth" kids are outcasts, loners, self-imposed exiles, but… come on! I mean, I’m not cool and even I know it’s not cool to walk around dressed like Edward Scissorhands. It’s supposed to be mysterious and intimidating, but the sad reality is there’s nothing less mysterious and intimidating than some goon who shows up in public wearing a black velvet shirt and pseudo-Runic pewter jewelry.

I’m not sure where the term "goth" comes from. It could come from "gothic novel", although I don’t remember Heathcliff and Catherine wearing a lot of black eye makeup and watching The Crow over and over again. "Goth" could also be short for "Visigoth," and if so the Visigoths must have been the goofiest of the early European peoples -- all pale and sulky, hanging out at the edge of the village, never invited on Viking raiding parties. How embarrassing for the Romans to get sacked by such pasty-faced geeks. It’s like losing your empire to a bunch of Trekkies!

I bet real vampires don’t dress entirely in black. If you were a vampire, and you dressed entirely in black, everybody would know you were a vampire. (Well, at least they’d know you were a goof.) In real life there must be GQ vampires and Gap vampires and casual, T-shirt-and-sweatpant-type vampires. It would be embarrassing to get bitten by a vampire in, like, GWGs and a WWF T-shirt. Then you’d sure know how the Romans felt!

To be fair, adopting the all-black look would make it easier to co-ordinate your outfit. And there’s be less separating on laundry day. Maybe I should go goth: all I’d have to do is get some black eye makeup and a velvet cape or something. I could find some ankh-themed knickknacks and set them up around the house. I’d call myself "Lord Nightshadow" or "The Silent One" or maybe "Viscount Shayde."

Whatever I ended up naming myself, whenever I came around I wouldn’t want people to look too closely. Because Viscount Shayde has a white cat, and he’s too depressed and mysterious to spend much time with a piece of sticky tape, trying to get that darn hair off.

Like the column? Buy the book! 100 Years of Subatomic Humor now on sale!