No Easy Answers Read Free Page B

of violent video games, or just aberrations in an otherwise perfectly civilized high school.
    I knew how ludicrous that was. I knew that we were nowhere near closure on Columbine. We still aren't. I knew Eric and Dylan far better than these analysts who were telling us about the harmful effects of Doom. I knew them far better than Principal DeAngelis, who behind his tears and speeches had no time for the kids like us, who existed outside the norm and were punished daily by our peers because of it.
    I knew that there were more Erics and Dylans out there, and I knew why their disenchantment was growing. I could see the void they were falling into—and I knew that void was getting bigger.
    So I'm mourning the dead today, standing in this spot—this spot that never used to be anything significant—for the first time in a year. But I'm not interested in praying for a solution. I'm interested in finding one right now, in the real world.
    This book is my first step.

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why?
    FROM THE MOMENT I CHOSE TO BEGIN THIS PROJECT, I KNEW THERE would be people criticizing me for it. Many people think that “Columbine is done”—that it's something not worth dredging up again, because we've heard enough about what happened. “It's time to move on,” they say.
    The reason they say this is that the public has settled on what they think caused Columbine: two sick, crazy boys who killed people because they were completely different from the rest of us. “It's a tragic thing,” they'll say, “but not something that requires any further thought.” There are some who still question the behavior of the police that day—as well they should—but there aren't many who are still asking questions about the killers themselves.
    Except, of course, for young people.
    The people who are still in high school know what's going on. They know there's something much, much bigger behind Columbine than what the rest of the world has been led to believe. These folks want to know who Eric and Dylan were. They want to know why two kids who are just like the people they share the school hallways with every day would turn around and do what they did.
    Why? Because they see parallels with Columbine at their own schools every day.
    The kids asking these questions are the kids who play video games like Doom , but don't feel the urge to imitate them in real life. They're the juggalos who listen to Insane Clown Posse rap about brutality and serial killers, but have no desire to kill anyone. They're the “loner” kids who have exhibited all the “warning signs” that experts go on the talk shows about, yet are still doing fine.
    These are the kids who hear politicians blaming TV and music and video games, and shake their heads, because they know that's not where the problem really lies. These are the kids who can feel the pull of something else out there—the real cause of Eric and Dylan—and are asking themselves what it is.

    Many people aren't willing to get their hands dirty by probing the true reasons behind what happened at Columbine. It's easier to believe in quick fixes than to accept what the real problems might be.
    After all, what's the easier sell for a politician: to go out there and tell people that they've screwed up, that they need to take better care of their kids, that they've created an ugly, uncaring society for the next generation, and that we need to search our own souls for a solution?
    Or to just tell them that the evil entertainment industry is ruining our kids?
    It's the second option that many seem to prefer. It gets big ratings on TV and high approval ratings for politicians, and makes everybody feel good by providing them with a designated villain. It's much easier to say that Doom and South Park are ruining our children than to think that maybe we have something to do with it, too.
    Want to blame the entertainment industry? Consider this: The entertainment industry makes money by giving people what they want. The day that violent