Arty kids.

I have no great love for the venue itself. My band had great shows there. We had dismal shows. We made a few bucks. We got screwed. It's not the closure of this particular venue that has me livid. It’s latest blow--in a long, tragic series--to a group of kids abandoned by parents, teachers, and civic leaders. Arty kids.

Suburbia thrives on homogeny...on quiet assimilation. Don’t believe me? I bet if I painted my house three shades of red with a bright orange roof, the homeowners group would come charging up to my doorstep with torches ablaze.

"Property values!" you scream. "Eyesore!"

And if I don’t quietly assimilate, you’ll come with letters from the city or petitions from neighbors. And it's not just the exterior of my suburban dwelling you're after. You're after the kids.

Really, it's nothing new. At 35 years old--a large portion of those years spent on a skateboard listening to "subversive” music--I've been faced with this type of generational fascism for quite some time. And I can honestly say, it’s getting worse.

Case in point, the aforementioned venue. It's not necessarily the building or the management that will be missed as much as the symbol it had become.

It wasn’t a field or a court or a diamond where suburban robot offspring go through the motions to the shouting, medicated delight of their parents. It wasn't set in a rigid rectangular shape bordered by cyclone fencing. There were no moustached, potbellied coaches shouting at the little Crate&Barrel sucklings to shut up, get in line and do what they're told. No fucking way.

This was a place (like others who suffered a similar fate) that catered to those arty kids. The ones who don't give two shits about baseball or football or other mind-numbing activities whose sole purpose is to instill--and instill deeply--the idea of order. Or more specifically, of taking orders without protest.

These kids see social boundaries as the horizon. To them, it's that distant but wholly attainable destination where dreams and ideas and inspiration escape the quick death of quiet assimilation.

These kids push toward that horizon with their music and their art and "radical” ideas. Sure, they arrive to find the footsteps of the older, slightly jaded farts who've been there and moved on. But it's not about that per se. It's about the journey. It's one of freedom and individuality and of finding one's own way.

So what do we do as a municipality and as a society? We shut it down. For what? In this particular case, a “lounge." Awesome. Another place for Dave-Matthews Yuppies, sportos, squealing coeds and date rapists to flock and prowl and flaunt their drunken cluelessness. Instant jackassery, just add alcohol...and don't forget to charge at the door.

And we wonder why kids are out fucking and drinking and stealing. Who wants to be a kid anymore? We stripped them of every possible outlet for their collective and creative free time. Wear a helmet. Be home by 10pm.

Most of these kids are quietly beaten into submission. "Be like me” is the mantra. And the chants from suburbia get louder and louder.

Now there are those who prevail despite the suffocating pressure around them. Hell, you see them every day. To you, they look "different.” "It’s a phase,” you'll say under your breath.

Why support them? Because art, music and free thought are move our culture forward. And don't you dare bring up "technology” or athletics. Don't you dare.

First, "technology" is a tool. It's a crescent wrench--agreed, a rather helpful invention--to be used to attain a greater goal or purpose. In the hands of monkey, the wrench is just something to bash things with. But in the hands of a a creative mind, it's a tool to bring about great things. But still, folks, it's just a tool.

Second, "athletics." Now, I've been known to cheer and shout and curse the referee when my beloved (now defunct...again) Earthquakes head out on the pitch. However, "athletics"--whether they're professional or otherwise--are nothing more than a distraction. An escape. A place to retreat to when you're feeling like all this "real life"” stuff is just too much to bear.

"But what about skateboarding that you love so much?" you cry. "That's a sport!"

Hardly. And if you'll permit me this tangent, I'll explain. Skateboarding is a culture. It's a perspective. It's a big middle finger to the status quo and the general, enforced homogeneity around us. How many curbs did you step off today? Didn't notice?

As skateboarders, we notice. We're constantly sizing up the environment around us. Curbs, benches, ledges. We crane our necks to see if there's an empty pool just over that fence. To us, Jason Lee isn't just an actor.

For example, look at a bench. If you find yourself thinking, "What other purpose could it possibly serve other than providing a place for a person to sit?" then you just don't get it. You're not a skateboarder.

Cops don't show up in force when kids are playing basketball at the park. Tennis players don't get chased off the courts because someone complains about the scuff marks.

"Hand over that ball, son. And get the hell out of here before I cite you." And that's what the polite cops say. Now imagine 20-plus years of having these "authority figures" tell you what you're doing and who you are (indirectly and directly, as I've experienced) is wrong.

That's why most of you don't get skateboarding. You can't put it in a box. You can't build a fence around it. No teams. No uniforms. No coaches. No stats. No fucking rules except gravity and threshold for pain.

Same goes for punk rock or any independent music. No rules to govern its participants. No structure to dictate its direction.

And it's precisely that pseudo-social-anarchy that attracts the minds that refuse to be fenced in by convention. Rather than assimilate, they create their own culture.

So shut it down. Close the venues.

Trust me when I say, "you can'’t kill it." You may discourage a few peripheral kids who were just pretending anyway. But those arty kids will keep going. They'll open a new venue. They'll wait till the shopping center closes to skate those curbs. They'll publish their revolution in ones and zeros.

I'm 35. I'm a skateboarder. A musician. I love punk rock. I question authority at every juncture. And I'm just one of thousands.

See, you waged your culture war quietly for decades. But we weathered your storm. Now, we can vote. We pay fucking taxes. And we see right through your bullshit. Remember, we aren't the ones who got in line to do what we were told. And we're not about start.

We aren't pubescent teens you can push around. And you know what? We're not going to let you push the arty kids around.

Shut that down, fuckers.