Once again, the knives are out for a suspected YouTube fraud. The object of scrutiny this time is a 15-year-old boy with short greasy hair and big braces, so tortured in his mannerisms that he can hardly articulate himself. He goes by the Internet nickname of "Daxflame," though his mother can be heard yelling at him from off camera, calling him "Bernice."
The boy seems to be having troubles. His life, as he tells it to the camera, is a string of small defeats and smaller victories. His desperate, almost ardent, quest to secure the friendship of a classmate was buoyed when the classmate borrowed a pencil. A passing smile from his would-be belle, Sophia, on whom he has endless designs, was a sign of true love. Getting hit in the face with her purse, not so much.
It's ridiculous, but Daxflame wouldn't be the only person to have lived through that ridiculous stage of life. He's the perfect anti-hero. Bouncing between rage and boundless optimism, he never allows that he might be the author of his own misfortune. Not when he wears a Superman suit to school a week before the real dress-up "Celebrity Friday," and not when he covers his face with Scotch tape as a joke for a diary segment, without realizing that taking it off would hurt. If you took all the agony of being unpopular and 15, compressed it into a nervous frame and boiled it till it was ready to burst, you'd have Daxflame.
Apparently, that's an agony with some resonance. As of this writing, his series of more than 50 clips has gained him the 36th most subscribers of anyone on YouTube, which is no mean feat. His diary entries are usually watched by more than 50,000 people, and every time he posts a video, more than 1,000 public comments appear in response.
So is he for real, or isn't he? He's either a brilliant performer or a troubled soul, but you just never know these days. Just a few months ago, we were dragged through the saga of "LonelyGirl15," a doe-eyed webcam diarist who gained a rapt following before turning out to be neither 15 nor lonely, scripted as she was by producers on the make.
Then there was the much-publicized "Bridezilla" video that showed a bride having a premarital breakdown. After days of burning up newspaper acreage with speculation, she turned out to be a viral advertisement for a company that didn't have enough to do with bridal meltdowns for the mental association to stick. At a recent technology conference, a show of hands was asked to see who remembered who the advertiser was; virtually no one did, and that includes me. I could look it up, but just on principle, I won't.
Now here we go again, ogling another Internet meltdown and wondering if anyone, even a desperate 15-year-old, would keep posting such self-incriminating videos. I have my doubts, but rest assured that the keenest minds of the Internet are on the case, descending on the question like a mob of teenage Sherlock Hemlocks with webcams instead of magnifying glasses.
Some have speculated that "Daxflame" is really a young improv actor connected to a family that specializes in children's talent. A few debunkings have been issued, though none of them have led to a confession.
Despite growing suspicion, the boy continues to post videos prolifically, either venting his tortured soul or acting his little heart out, hoping that the media will cotton on before he gets exposed. (In which case, hello there.)
But this is all beside the point. I'd rather enjoy the ambiguity while it lasts. Aren't the question marks that hover over these things part of the fun? Daxflame's authenticity is a talking point, the kind of thing you can bat around with friends or mull over for yourself.
