Vermin Supreme emphasizes free speech — eventually

Natalie Schermer

The cinema was full of both people and anticipation as a packed crowd waited impatiently for the entrance of presidential hopeful Vermin Supreme. Or, rather, waited impatiently for his official entrance, as the man himself was already puttering around and muttering to himself on stage as he prepared for his presentation.

Students glanced at each other confusedly as Supreme traversed the stage one more time, ducking behind a set of mirrors with a hanging in between. The room was suddenly full of whispers as the famous boot was raised above the mirrors and settled on Supreme’s head. All at once, the music started and Vermin burst through the gap between the mirrors, singing along to his song “I’m a Meme,” ran through the cinema, and liberally sprinkled the audience with glitter.

If you’re confused right now, never fear — that’s part of Supreme’s goal. Presidential hopeful, public speaker, performance artist — all of these titles apply to Vermin Supreme. He’s an older man with a full — full — beard and a signature overcoat. In addition to the coat and the beard, he has a few items he dons when he performs. The most famous is the boot — a black rubber number he sticks on his head. At times he wears a bright red cape; at others he carries around a giant toothbrush in support of his campaign to get everybody to brush their teeth.

I’d never really understood what Vermin Supreme was trying to do with all his political speeches, rally events and debate invasions. After the first half of his presentation, I wasn’t sure I’d be any more enlightened after the talk, either. Supreme’s plan seemed to be to show an undetermined amount of videos of stunts in haphazard fashion, selecting them one by one from a list using his uncertain computer skills.

The videos ranged in topic from abortion rallies to heckling Rick Santorum. Some were funny, others just absurd. At one point, Supreme’s mic went out. Rather than trying to fix it, he decided to just sing a song he’d written about T-Pain completely a cappella. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to his video choices, either. He had a few he wanted to show, but took requests shouted from the audience, including one titled “Vermin Supreme Goes to the Doctor,” an absurdist short film which didn’t seem to have any political or social relevance at all.

But, somehow, as the presentation continued, a theme seemed to come through. A lot of it — all of it — was ridiculous, yes, but it’s not like Supreme just invades random political events with no agenda. At the end of the talk, there was a moment when Supreme became almost inspiring. He clarified that there’s more to it than just being weird and crazy. It’s about being subversive, being out there, recognizing your right to free speech and taking full advantage of it. So the next time you start to doubt Supreme, the next time you’re more weirded out than inspired, remember — there is, in fact, a point, and it’s kind of a good one.

Students glanced at each other confusedly as Supreme traversed the stage one more time, ducking behind a set of mirrors with a hanging in between. The room was suddenly full of whispers as the famous boot was raised above the mirrors and settled on Supreme’s head. All at once, the music started and Vermin burst through the gap between the mirrors, singing along to his song “I’m a Meme,” ran through the cinema, and liberally sprinkled the audience with glitter.

If you’re confused right now, never fear — that’s part of Supreme’s goal. Presidential hopeful, public speaker, performance artist — all of these titles apply to Vermin Supreme. He’s an older man with a full — full — beard and a signature overcoat. In addition to the coat and the beard, he has a few items he dons when he performs. The most famous is the boot — a black rubber number he sticks on his head. At times he wears a bright red cape; at others he carries around a giant toothbrush in support of his campaign to get everybody to brush their teeth.

I’d never really understood what Vermin Supreme was trying to do with all his political speeches, rally events and debate invasions. After the first half of his presentation, I wasn’t sure I’d be any more enlightened after the talk, either. Supreme’s plan seemed to be to show an undetermined amount of videos of stunts in haphazard fashion, selecting them one by one from a list using his uncertain computer skills.

The videos ranged in topic from abortion rallies to heckling Rick Santorum. Some were funny, others just absurd. At one point, Supreme’s mic went out. Rather than trying to fix it, he decided to just sing a song he’d written about T-Pain completely a cappella. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to his video choices, either. He had a few he wanted to show, but took requests shouted from the audience, including one titled “Vermin Supreme Goes to the Doctor,” an absurdist short film which didn’t seem to have any political or social relevance at all.

But, somehow, as the presentation continued, a theme seemed to come through. A lot of it — all of it — was ridiculous, yes, but it’s not like Supreme just invades random political events with no agenda. At the end of the talk, there was a moment when Supreme became almost inspiring. He clarified that there’s more to it than just being weird and crazy. It’s about being subversive, being out there, recognizing your right to free speech and taking full advantage of it. So the next time you start to doubt Supreme, the next time you’re more weirded out than inspired, remember — there is, in fact, a point, and it’s kind of a good one.

Students glanced at each other confusedly as Supreme traversed the stage one more time, ducking behind a set of mirrors with a hanging in between. The room was suddenly full of whispers as the famous boot was raised above the mirrors and settled on Supreme’s head. All at once, the music started and Vermin burst through the gap between the mirrors, singing along to his song “I’m a Meme,” ran through the cinema, and liberally sprinkled the audience with glitter.

If you’re confused right now, never fear — that’s part of Supreme’s goal. Presidential hopeful, public speaker, performance artist — all of these titles apply to Vermin Supreme. He’s an older man with a full — full — beard and a signature overcoat. In addition to the coat and the beard, he has a few items he dons when he performs. The most famous is the boot — a black rubber number he sticks on his head. At times he wears a bright red cape; at others he carries around a giant toothbrush in support of his campaign to get everybody to brush their teeth.

I’d never really understood what Vermin Supreme was trying to do with all his political speeches, rally events and debate invasions. After the first half of his presentation, I wasn’t sure I’d be any more enlightened after the talk, either. Supreme’s plan seemed to be to show an undetermined amount of videos of stunts in haphazard fashion, selecting them one by one from a list using his uncertain computer skills.

The videos ranged in topic from abortion rallies to heckling Rick Santorum. Some were funny, others just absurd. At one point, Supreme’s mic went out. Rather than trying to fix it, he decided to just sing a song he’d written about T-Pain completely a cappella. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to his video choices, either. He had a few he wanted to show, but took requests shouted from the audience, including one titled “Vermin Supreme Goes to the Doctor,” an absurdist short film which didn’t seem to have any political or social relevance at all.

But, somehow, as the presentation continued, a theme seemed to come through. A lot of it — all of it — was ridiculous, yes, but it’s not like Supreme just invades random political events with no agenda. At the end of
the talk, there was a moment when Supreme became almost inspiring. He clarified that there’s more to it than just being weird and crazy. It’s about being subversive, being out there, recognizing your right to free speech and taking full advantage of it. So the next time you start to doubt Supreme, the next time you’re more weirded out than inspired, remember — there is, in fact, a point, and it’s kind of a good one.

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