Oh those brave, anonymous cyberbullies
They sure showed 11-yearold Sebastien, who sang the national anthem in a mariachi outfit.
It took a lot of fearlessness and a great deal of creative inspiration, but last Tuesday during Game 3 of the NBA Finals, a group of highly skilled writers got together and courageously disparaged an 11-year-old Mexican boy who sang the national anthem.
Sebastien De La Cruz, you should have known better. Your 132 months on Earth should have been enough to teach you that you never sing the national anthem in a way that might incense middle-aged people who all have Ph.D.s in prickology: the study and practice of being a prick with access to the Internet.
You see, little Sebastien, the second you came out in your “authentic” Hispanic attire, you undermined the unsaid pact that was made with the members of PASS — the Prickology Association of Sad Sociopaths. That pact states clearly (even though there is no document available for review) that everyone should know what might offend the sensibilities of someone online at any given time.
Now, Sebastien, you must learn to take this tidal wave of criticism and hatred like a man. You see, it matters not that just about every week, someone is bullied by people hiding behind the veil of cyber anonymity. Or that it usually takes a suicide to bring attention to the repercussions of being outnumbered by a barrage of online venom. On a daily basis, I’m called fat, untalented, worthless and a hack. And that’s just from my 13year-old neighbor, Braff Dirgley, who just learned to use Twitter. Braff, a student of this brave new world of online harassment, explained to me that I needed to have a lesson in the rules of PASS.
You see, our parents taught us that sticks and stones may break our bones, but words can never hurt us. But what they failed to account for was those words being digitally sent at the push of a button to millions of people who are keen to rip us apart. Words that are now loaded in little computer-coded missile silos and launched at the speed of light directly into our hearts. Words that come cascading down on us like a neverending hailstorm. Because according to the laws of PASS, there are no feelings, emotional responses or dark thoughts that can come from being disparaged by hundreds of people in a matter of seconds.
In the words of my neighbor Braff Dirgley, “Stop taking things so personally. It’s just an (expletive) tweet, dawg.”
In response to the many, some might say, “racially insensitive tweets,” little Sebastien responded with: “I think the people were talking bad because of what I was wearing, and it’s not my fault. It’s what I love, and I’m just proud to be a mariachi singer. It’s their opinion, actually, and if they don’t like mariachi, that’s their problem. I love it.”
On the surface, that response is nothing short of profound. (And the fact that he came back for a second performance Thursday proves just how courageous he is.)
Yet, as optimistic and savvy as that answer might appear, the laws of PASS still will never allow that to be the final word, because that unsuspecting 11-year-old began his statement with the grammatically unsound sentence “I think the people were talking bad ... ”
Oof. Let’s just hope Braff Dirgley doesn’t get ahold of this.