Mosh Pits Are Darwin’s Trash Can

My teenage years were spent digging up every obscure metal band I could find.  The faster and heavier the better.

But I never quite understood mosh pits.  Ok, I understand them on a sociological level.  Since men aren’t generally needed to hunt for food each day anymore, they have to take out their aggression on something else.  Pro football is out for most of them, so a mosh pit is the next best place.

At it’s most basic it’s a bunch of testosterone bombs rubbing up against other sweaty men.  Waaaay hetero, no?  Guys won’t even sit next to each other in a movie theater without an empty seat in between.  And yet they’ll bounce their sweat and beer drenched bellies off each other happily for hours on end.

Maybe if movie theater seats resulted in some sort of blood loss, men would feel more comfortable sitting next to one another.

And they skip… Did you know that?  They skip in a circle.  Like little girls in a field of daisies.  It’s probably the only example of an appropriate time for a grown man to skip.  Unless of course, there’s no line for Pirates of the Caribbean.  That necessitates running, with a few skips at the end followed by a jaunty victory dance.  Or maybe that’s just me.

If you’ve never seen the male metal head skipping in his natural habitat, check out this video at about the 30 second mark:

Though really, if you’re going to do it, do it right.  I saw a guy recently run into a pit with one arm over his head protecting his head and face like he was running from a burning building.  The other armed flailed randomly through the air.  Not in a “I’m gonna get you” kind of way.  More like a “Is that bee!?  Agh!  Get the bee away from me!” kind of way.  It was sad and I’m sure he soon ended up looking up at a medic from a stretcher.

And I know what you must be thinking.  “But Phil… Weren’t you ever tempted to try it?”   Of course!

I was hanging with some friends in high school, all of us into the same scene.  I picked out one particular friend and took a good running start at him….

… and then picked myself up off the ground.  I apparently had picked one of my more solid compatriots.  It was like hitting a brick wall with a running start.  I don’t even think I made an indentation on his skin.  I’m not entirely sure he even noticed I’d done it.

A brilliant idea occurred to me.  If I were on stage instead of in front of it, moshing wouldn’t be an issue.  Had I been a more successful mosher (is that a word?) I may have ended up just another idiotic, tattoo on the neck, ball cap wearing baby daddy being sucked into the cesspool of humanity in front of the stage.  It’s the small moments in life that can define you. 🙂

Phil Johnson

PS… Did you get your 8 free songs from me yet?  They won’t make you mosh, but they’ll make you laugh.  And laughter generally results in fewer trips to the emergency room.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *