Have I mentioned how much I hate Twilight? I probably haven’t, come to think of it, because whenever I try, I sputter into an inarticulate rage. Go read this instead, pretend that I wrote it, then come back.
See? See what unspeakable damage the Twilight phenomenon is doing to kids (and more than a few adults, but let’s be honest: if an adult is susceptible to the kind of message embedded in Twilight, he or she is already an almost lost cause).
Emblematic of the cult surrounding Twilight, and therefore convenient target for my hate, are t-shirts that feature Edward Cullen’s enormous forehead (and, more recently, Jacob whatshisname as well). I am thankful that, since I do not frequent malls or Hot Topic, I have never encountered one of these shirts in real life. They cross my periphery thanks to the all-seeing eye of my Google Reader feeds.
When New Moon was unleashed upon the swooning masses around Thanksgiving, a comic strip from HijiNKS Ensue turned the hysteria around and created an outlet for venting geeks. Replacing Edward Cullen with another Edward, no less worthy of idolatry in the eyes of many, was genius. Click that link and go buy your own. Team Edward James Olmos is worth every penny.
Once the notion of alternative Edwards is introduced, it’s easy to imagine an army of better Edwards, locked in a meta battle with the pale and sparkly Edward Cullens of pop culture. It’s also easy to make t-shirts. It is hard, however, to top a man who starred in both Blade Runner and Battlestar Galactica.
Evangelism is ineffective unless the audience can recognize the idols of the faith. Those who swoon over Edward Cullen are unlikely to know Edward James Olmos, but they probably know Johnny Depp, and thus Edward Scissorhands.
The internet is also full of Edward Norton photos, though unfortunately none were iconic enough for my t-shirt evangelism purposes.
I should at this point warn you of the dangers of blind web searches. I had in mind two other better Edwards, but I decided to use Google’s autocomplete search technology to discover other potential idols. Early on, I learned about the Edward Fortyhands drinking game. Disturbing, but innocuous. An indeterminate number of clicks later, however, I found the unspeakable horror that is Edward Penishands. Sometimes, the internet makes me proud.
Fans of the Edward Scissorhands aesthetic will probably appreciate the next better Edward: Edward Gorey. Gorey isn’t as widely recognized as Mr. Scissorhands, but his work is beloved by those who know it. In his self-portrait he wears a fur coat and tennis shoes.
It’s no great surprise to me that I have to explain these shirts to people. Most of the people I know have never heard of the Team Edward shirts, because they have the good sense to avoid things like that. It’s a little more disheartening, though not unexpected, that nobody recognizes Edward Gorey.
There is no excuse, however, for not knowing who Edward R. Murrow is. Even if your knowledge of World War II history is spottier than mine, even if you weren’t alive during McCarthyism, you could have watched George Clooney spoon feed you Murrow’s legacy in the film Good Night, and Good Luck. The final better Edward t-shirt is of David Strathairn, as Murrow, scowling through artfully photographed cigarette smoke. It brings to mind Murrow’s address to the Radio-Television News Directors Association:
This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and it can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise it is merely wires and lights in a box. There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be fought against ignorance, intolerance and indifference. This weapon of television could be useful.
I’ve met precisely one person who knew who Edward R. Murrow was and was also familiar with the Twilight t-shirts. (Thanks, incidentally, for preserving my faith in humanity.) The rest of you, use the box of wires and lights to which you are attached and edify yourselves.
