America's Funniest Predators

I have been throwing out all the moving boxes and putting my place together. I even decorated a wall with one of those 80's porcelain jester masks that Denay gave me. It is tacky and beautiful.

Orientation is on Monday. And right now I am refusing to do my pre-orientation reading and am, instead, watching DatelineNBC's To Catch a Predator "spin-off" show: Raw Predator, which is just a behind-the-scene outtakes version of the original show. Is it just me or does the title of To Catch a Predator seem a little deceptive? It sounds like a How-To Guide for parents looking to protect their children, and instead offers looks into men and their efforts to pork children. I imagine these parents tuning in, expecting one thing only to get something else, and gasping, "Filthy!...But genuinely arousing..." (<-- that's a Simpsons quote by the way.) What is disgusting about this spin-off is that Raw Predator's title somehow manages to sound disturbingly more like that of a porno film's. More than To Catch a Predator. (Or am I just sick for thinking To Catch a Predator sounds somewhat erotic? I'm probably sick.)

David has been watching this show religiously. (I wonder if it turns him on.) My friend Carissa calls it "America's Funniest Predators." What i find so hilarious about this program is that it pulls on so many heart-strings for American audiences. It exploits the paranoia of parents, it feeds the reality TV craving, it has overtones of taboo sexuality, it involves youth -- all packaged together like a pedaphelic (and less ghetto) version of Cops. With interviews! The kiddy factor reminds me of a Marilyn Manson quote regarding America's obsession with human exploitation: "Is adult entertainment killing our children, or is killing our children entertaining adults?"

(Funny enough, as I'm watching this episode, one of the predators is getting cuffed by the cops right now. And both the cop and the man are wearing yellow rubber Live Strong bracelets. It almost looks harmonious.)

In this episode I'm watching, the host says something along the lines of: This investigation was to uncover how these predators think, what is their thought process in making these decisions to stalk children on the internet.

Lies!

This is the least emphasized part of the show. They didn't come here to show something so deep and meaningful. They came here to offer the sensationalism of the idea of child-fucking, not the psychology of child-fuckers. The show normally just concentrate on the predators chatting on the internet with the decoy kids (messaging statements like "I want to stick my $%^& up your @$$...itll hurt, but its a good kind of pain, you know?"). Then they spend the rest of the time showing the host re-reading these chats to the busted predators. Of course the explicit suggestion of sex acts being done to teenagers by 43 year old computer engineers and truck drivers is going to dominate the audience's main interest -- not the investigative merit. Though, I can appreciate that kind of pretense. It hurts, but it's a good kind of pain, you know?

What I am now noticing about To Catch a Predator is how it reminds me of my very own youth with the internet. I would chat online and older men would approach me. Most of them stopped chatting after I said I was 13 or whatever. But every once in a while I would find a man who would take it into the sexual arena of conversation. They'd ask how big I was, and whether I've even had sex with the boys at my school.

I never did meet up with any of them. The first and only guy I had ever met back then is my friend Ryan, who is just a couple months older than me. We remain friends to this day. Something I'm finding disturbing about watching To Catch a Predator is how it profiles these men. They offer these guys a name, an abridged backstory (husband? father? occupation? etc.). And that makes me consider the hypothetical of the men I had refused to meet. What would have happened had I agreed to meet RNance408 at the McDonald's on Lawrence Expressway? Would I have been scared for my safety? Would I have been digusted by what he looked like -- how he was even uglier in life than he looked in the ratty photo he emailed me? Would he have suggested getting into his car and going for a ride? Would I have said yes and went for it out of curiosity? Afterall, nothing is perhaps more dangerous to a young person than confusion and intense curiosity of their own budding sexuality.

I'm not feeling remorse for never putting myself into a scenario where I would have had to answer these questions. Instead, while watching these studdering pedaphiles get interrogated on TV forces me to imagine the possibilities. It's not an intense reaction, but rather a dampened dread, a muted feeling of violation. Unwillingly, I end up revisiting how fragile and lonely it felt as a suburban kid raised by immigrant parents who went to Catholic Church 3 times a week. How naughty it felt to meet other guys that loved guys, even if they were older, even if it was only through words on a screen in some chatroom. How dangerous and good it felt to connect with them, with little regard to the age gap. It hurts -- being forced back to this sort of memory -- but it's a good kind of pain. I think.