GCSPrank Is Here

For people who spend the day saying and writing things that others accept, while thinking things that are infinitely more interesting.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

The Origin of GCSPrank

We all have a dark side; some hide it better than others. Some expose it as a badge of honor, a shield or with the glee usually associated with a Halloween costume. My dark side was like a long sharp knife: hard to hide, flashed often and meant to wound, not destroy.

That's overly dramatic, but you've read this far so I'll be banal: I was quick to say nasty things, challenge authority, attack stupidity (or what I perceived to be stupidity) and keep pushing the issue until the other person attacked or gave up.

Quick question: How popular was I? Right. One good friend and a tiny handful of people I'd say "Hi" to who'd actually respond kindly. But, that good friend was worth any 50 other people. Maybe he didn't see deeply into me, but he saw me.

This friend would draw for the university paper, editorial cartoons mostly. As a gimmick, like Herblock, he'd draw a tiny critter, a duck actually, with big thick glasses, long hair in (what else?) a ducktail and wearing a light jacket. The critter would often lambast what was going around him, often in almost the same words I'd use. My friend would get a kick out of showing me the cartoon, covering the critter, and then compare what I said to what he had written. He matched more than he missed and every once in a while, he'd "out-me" by being even more cynical.

The critter's name was "GCSPrank." My friend could never remember how the name came to him, but it was after staying awake for almost three days' straight, so it could have come from anywhere. A few people caught on, making the connection between the critter and me, but most simply accepted its presence and, to our surprise, the critter became a bit popular. I remember the first time I saw it on a bathroom wall, expressing revulsion at the overall hygiene level of the facility. His words were cruder than mine, but his presence was an unexpected delight. Too bad I couldn't take the damn wall home with me, though I tried.

For a year, GCSPrank was the occasional verbal bomber, dissing bathrooms and councilmen with equal fervor (they are almost equivalent in terms of hygiene, too.) Once my friend stopped drawing, GCSPrank faded away quickly. But his impact on me and my social self remained. I learned that others could be who they are without me having to attack them to prove who I was. I sheathed the long knife, then discarded it: it was always at hand, but no longer as cheap accessory.

About once a year, maybe less, GCSPrank comes back, flailing and stabbing at the world around me. Then, after slashing some of the underbrush and foolishness out of my life, he drifts off to whatever cubbyhole or treehouse he spends the days in. I like GCSPrank, but I don't miss him. To Freudians, he might represent the Id Unleashed, or some penile hangup only they can see. (Freudians and astrologers are two sides of the same worthless coin.) I simply see a persona who helped me cope, to whatever degree, with Life As I Knew It. And when push comes to shove, as it often does, I'd rather hang around GCSPrank than 99.999999% of the world's population.

That's still about 7,000 guys, gals and assorted whatnots. Good-sized posse, actually.


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