One of the most common diseases today among young people today is probably not what one would think. Not AIDS, or cancer, or any type of STD. The disease I'm talking about is far, far worse than that. In fact, some of you readers may have suffered from it yourself at one point, and I hope to God you don't have it now. What am I talking about? you may ask. The horrible, terrifying affliction I'm referring to is Teenybopperism.
Though quite common, not many people who have this horrifying blight actually realize that they do have it. Even their friends and family members are blind to the fact their loved one is afflicted. It's quite sad to the average onlooker.
"It's just a phase," one might say. But no. The realities of this disease will shock and amaze you. Those of you with weak stomachs may want to wait an hour or two after eating before reading this explicit report.
This debilitating malady starts out small... perhaps a boy-band CD. Then it progresses. A T-shirt with the face of a pop star. A poster on the ceiling over their bed. But then... Oh, dear. Then it just explodes. Before long they own a string of fan websites. They own their "idols'" doll, and every T-shirt and pencil ever made to resemble them. Their wallpaper is no longer visible, but instead their entire room is plastered with the plastic smiles and perfect hair of their new "idol". Their appearance changes. Pigtails. Platforms. Bellbottoms. Pastels. Sparkles.
Their attitudes are... different, to say the least. Bright. Shiny. Perky. Their speech patterns can be almost undecipherable, if you catch them at a bad moment, with frequent repetition of the words "like," and "totally". Squeals are frequent. Some may experience the IQ of a potato. Hair flipping and/or over-bleaching is often observed.
Those who suffer from Teenybopperism often develop unhealthy obsessions and/or addictions to their so-called "idols". Every television appearance is taped, and watched over and over with zeal. Every concert is attended, whether or not it is four-hundred dollars for lawn seats. If refused, the whining and complaining could very well get ugly.
What is the cause of this horrifying plague? Well, no one really knows. We know that the contribution of bad music by such artists as the Backdoor Boys serves only to worsen the condition, however.
There is no cure for Teenybopperism, sadly. Some say it fades as the sufferer grows older, but if so, I'm sure it would leave them with horrifying mental scars. The mental picture of a pop idol's face. The memorization of the lyrics to a whiny, pathetic song about lost love. One could almost imagine the memory of a boy-band concert. The screaming pre-adolescent's, the dancing, "singing" pop-stars, all the glitter... *Shudder* ... Why, it's enough to make your blood run cold.
Though there is no cure, there are numerous experiments being run on those affected with Teenybopperism by Dr. Beck, a scientist at IOD, the Institute Of Dorkology. It is preferred, however, that knowledge of these experiments be kept on the down-low, you understand, because of, ah, leakage. To their competitors, and reporters, and... *cough.* ... the government and all that other good stuff. You understand, of course.
Though quite common, not many people who have this horrifying blight actually realize that they do have it. Even their friends and family members are blind to the fact their loved one is afflicted. It's quite sad to the average onlooker.
"It's just a phase," one might say. But no. The realities of this disease will shock and amaze you. Those of you with weak stomachs may want to wait an hour or two after eating before reading this explicit report.
This debilitating malady starts out small... perhaps a boy-band CD. Then it progresses. A T-shirt with the face of a pop star. A poster on the ceiling over their bed. But then... Oh, dear. Then it just explodes. Before long they own a string of fan websites. They own their "idols'" doll, and every T-shirt and pencil ever made to resemble them. Their wallpaper is no longer visible, but instead their entire room is plastered with the plastic smiles and perfect hair of their new "idol". Their appearance changes. Pigtails. Platforms. Bellbottoms. Pastels. Sparkles.
Their attitudes are... different, to say the least. Bright. Shiny. Perky. Their speech patterns can be almost undecipherable, if you catch them at a bad moment, with frequent repetition of the words "like," and "totally". Squeals are frequent. Some may experience the IQ of a potato. Hair flipping and/or over-bleaching is often observed.
Those who suffer from Teenybopperism often develop unhealthy obsessions and/or addictions to their so-called "idols". Every television appearance is taped, and watched over and over with zeal. Every concert is attended, whether or not it is four-hundred dollars for lawn seats. If refused, the whining and complaining could very well get ugly.
What is the cause of this horrifying plague? Well, no one really knows. We know that the contribution of bad music by such artists as the Backdoor Boys serves only to worsen the condition, however.
There is no cure for Teenybopperism, sadly. Some say it fades as the sufferer grows older, but if so, I'm sure it would leave them with horrifying mental scars. The mental picture of a pop idol's face. The memorization of the lyrics to a whiny, pathetic song about lost love. One could almost imagine the memory of a boy-band concert. The screaming pre-adolescent's, the dancing, "singing" pop-stars, all the glitter... *Shudder* ... Why, it's enough to make your blood run cold.
Though there is no cure, there are numerous experiments being run on those affected with Teenybopperism by Dr. Beck, a scientist at IOD, the Institute Of Dorkology. It is preferred, however, that knowledge of these experiments be kept on the down-low, you understand, because of, ah, leakage. To their competitors, and reporters, and... *cough.* ... the government and all that other good stuff. You understand, of course.