I curse the day Linux was birthed. Updating Daigoro has been a complete mess so I resigned doing it to later today, and now coming here and updating for you fine folks is becoming increasingly frustrating as well. I’ll try not to dwell though, and talk about the topic at hand… copycats. This has probably happened to you at a greater or lesser degree but stop me if I’m wrong in the generalization of the event: you meet someone at work or school or whatever and you hit it off, you think this person is cool beans and leave it at that. Next thing you know, he’s emulating you. Like something out of “Saved by the Bell” you suddenly find yourself with someone who wants to be your clone, following your every move and what’s worse, seeking your attention and approval. I had a conversation very recently with a good friend of mine that sparked this deconstruction, fueled by my hatred for unoriginal people.

For starters, what is original? This planet is at least 20 centuries old and going strong so the chances of someone coming up with something honest-to-God original is slim, and if it does happen it will surely mark our generation and the ones to come. No one is truly original, but it’s like Quentin Tarantino movies: on the surface they’re en vanguarde filmmaking but if you sit down and break down the stories this cat tells, they’re pretty much Frankensteins of the best bits and pieces of whatever genre the film falls into. The most recent example of this is, of course, “Kill Bill,” where you have all of the elements of not only Asian chop sockey, Shaw Brothers-esque cinema from the 60’s-80’s with Lady Snowblood and Hatori Hanzo (who even plays a pivotal character in the story, snatch), the apprentice overcoming the master… the frickin’ Anime sequence, for the love of Marley. And that’s only Volume 1; Volume 2, where the story abruptly-yet-brilliantly shifts gears and basks into its spaghetti western roots with the vastness of the locales, the lone cowboy (cowgirl, in this instance) in her simple quest for vengeance. This movie is excellent. Hell, all of Tarantino’s movies are excellent. But that doesn’t mean the subject matter is original… its execution is.

People make stuff theirs. It goes from the types of shoes they wear to the way they speak and *ahem * write… this is all very subjective of course, and people go on and about their lives, spending most of it trying to figure out who they are and that’s fine and dandy, we’re all guilty of it. But sometimes, sadly, there are rules and guidelines the “game” is powered by: case in point, societal culture. There are a lot of different types of people, as many as there are rocks on the ground but you’d like to think that all of these have an identity of their own, at least the ones in your immediate circles of interaction. The grand scope of diversity can create some very unusual partners but there’s always the chance that, given the choice, you can choose who to tussle with intellectually and socially… at least I’d like to think so. Of course, nothing is perfect and for every 10 great people I meet there’s always that one jackass that’s unavoidable in this law of averages but hey, in those cases you just deal. Simple, right? Oh, lord… if only it were.

You don’t know you have them until it’s too late to be able to do anything about it; one moment you’re making a friend and the next one he’s humping your leg and copying your hairstyle… this is not a rare thing, and to put things in perspective I’ll direct you to my proof that tells us both how we’re guilty of this copycatting phenomena. If you will: copying Jennifer Aniston’s hairstyle on “Friends,” digging Limp Bizkit, “Dragon Ball Z,” Tamagotchi’s, Beanie Babies, painting your nails black, belly button rings, Bang Bus, The Passion of the Christ, Chappelle’s Show (and its derivatives “I’m Rick James, bitch,” “I’m rich, bitch” and “cocaine’s a hell of a drug,” and many others), ringtones, “vote or die,” and the list goes on and on and on and on. I know that my affinity for the word “bitch” stemmed from the awesome Chappelle’s Show, making me one of those whiteys that has run its catchphrases down to the ground. So sue me, assholes. I don’t see anything wrong in taking something that’s already been created and using it much like what Quentin Tarantino does in his movies, but just like he does with the material he puts in his sandbox I like to grab elements that are established and make them my own. It’s the least I can do to distance myself as much as I can from the source of whatever I took and it’s always a subconscious thing, making it that much more organic and therefore sweeter. Some people, though… the true copycats, look to the things that are popular with the zeitgeist and adopt them as their own not because they particularly like them but because they want to be with the “in” crowd… or what’s worse, they want attention.

This is a very dangerous thing, seeking attention. The cultural meaning of a celebrity is one that other people, the mere mortals, find alluring and interesting to the point that they want to be like them, and with the introduction of the Internet into the mix the average Joe can know what groceries his or her favorite star bought that particular day, what the person wore and whoever the person’s dating. Pulling the scope down a notch, people who want attention will go to the most precarious of circumstances to get it, no matter what it entails. Take for example, piercings. Anything that involves body modification, for that matter. It’s true that the whole point of these piercings is to alter your image to the outside world, but because of that there has to be a solid reason for it; you have to be comfortable with yourself about the decision, one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. To get a piercing just because it’ll garner you attention at the age of 22 is asinine. Following trends without really knowing why is asinine as well, and people who don’t have an identity of their own tend to drift towards the people who garner attention just so that he can try to emulate them. I suppose that imitation is a form of flattery but some people just can’t stand others who can’t come up with an identity of their own, mixing and matching the things they like in order to come up with his own individual persona. The people who fail to do this, the people who get piercings because other people did, who listen to whatever’s on the Top 10 list and force themselves to like it because it’s popular, people who say “how high?” when i tell them to jump… those people annoy the living fuck out of me. This questioning of one’s identity is embedded in every human being, but I think that when you’ve hit your 20’s you should at least have an idea of who you are and what you want. Sadly, there are people who’s identity is one who steals another’s. I guess I should find it flattering whenever that happens to me yet somehow I’m always repulsed by it. It just turns me off… but what happens if the copycat is your friend? What do you do then?

There are ways. Usually these copycats are individuals with an “alpha male” simplicity that need to prove to their “mentors” how they can beat them at their own game (underlying theme of “student surpasses the master”) so you take that and hand it to him, basking in his frustration that tells both him and you that no matter how hard he tries, you’re always the original and he ain’t got shit on you, no matter how much he emulates you. Of course, there’s the approach I personally like which is to knock him out of his tranquility and come face-first and give him the shit. In this day and age people aren’t used to talking straight and without any rodeos so when you do go up to the source of your problem and face it head-on there’s an aversion and scrambling of sorts that automatically puts you on an advantage, the copycat’s glass utopia crumbling down with a sonic boom of ass-handing fury. These copycats, they come and go all the time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m dealing with one or two right now; that statement notwithstanding, how do you do it? How do you tell a copycat he needs to find an identity of his own? I don’t want uglier-looking, less charming clones running around and cramping my style even though the concept of me having goons is a delicious one; but then I remember how upset I’d get with this people to then not-so-politely ask them to get a life and take off the tongue ring and let go of the generic ghetto music unless you genuinely like it (which you probably didn’t) and really look deep inside yourself in order to find who you really are. If it turens out that you do like having the piercing, the tattoos and the generic R & B then alright. If you want to keep that smoking habit because you like the fucking nicotine and not because you have the utterly wrong conception that smoking somehow makes you cool, then please continue to kill yourself slowly. I have a friend who a few months back had an obsession with smoking pot. He’d propose frequently: “let’s smoke some pot.” “I need to relax… let’s smoke some pot.” “We can go to the beach… to smoke some pot.” The strand of propositions was endless, almost harassing in their execution. See, I like pot. I think it’s great, but not when you want to be cool…. this cat wanted to be cool. He’s also the type who desperately seeks for his peers’ approval and attention, but I’m not gonna get into that because it could open a whole can of worms and the last thing I need is a copycat lashing out at me, forcing me to put foot on ass.

Copycats; add that to the list of things a Panamanian can be, or better yet, the human being can be. You’d think that in a society as small and retarded as this one there wouldn’t be any room for copycats… but then again, the social scene here is retarded so it wouldn’t surprise me if most of us embraced out copycat gene and just became carbon copies of each other, with tongue piercings we’re still not sure we truly wanted and dancing to R&B that MTV told us was good.

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