The Cult of Nappy Dyno

I read this article with great sadness. If you don't want to wade through it, the story's about a 15-year-old boy at a nearby high school who has an uncanny resemblance to movie character Napoleon Dynamite. It wasn't something he fostered on his own. Classmates urged him to work it, so he does. He bought the DVD, and he and his older brothers visit some of the area malls so he can monkey Napoleon's dance moves for gaping crowds. His mother is quoted as saying, "He went from 'zero' to 'hero' " – which is an awful thing to say, really. A mom should never think her son is a zero; he should be able to count on her for support at least.

It's been half a lifetime away for me, but I remember being 15. That year, and a few before and a few after, can be a strange age for anyone, but especially for a boy. That's when he can either become his own man, remain a momma's boy or miss the important steps to become his own man because he was busy imitating a fictional character to amuse people who used to ignore him. Capitalizing on an inherent trait for popularity is nothing new, nor is it necessarily bad. I just hope for him – and if I run across him exhibiting his "sweet skills" somewhere, I'd love to buy him a cheeseburger and have a talk – that he can learn to love and develop who he is beneath the goofy facade.

As an aside, I like the movie. It's found a strange, multi-generational appeal among many people. The flimsy plot is held together by a series of angst-ridden vignettes, further stapled by memorable dialogue. It's not the best movie ever made, and not the worst. It makes me laugh. That's enough.