June 3, 2011 § 1 Comment
Really? Like, really really?
Here’s a confession – I would be a mess if I held the tiniest smidgen of fame. I get emotional and lose perspective
occasionally often all the fucking time. Can you imagine what would become of me, or of you, if our every move and mood were followed by quote-hungry journalists and bloggers, our every stray written word published and criticized at length?
J-Franz is an artist. Dude can write, and he does it well. That doesn’t make him some kind of paragon of emotional maturity. Would we ever have held Hemingway or Mailer to that standard? Those guys were assholes, to women, to their friends and enemies, probably to kittens and small children too. As a voyeuristic and prurient culture we now take our heroes, literary or otherwise, and delve into their personhood and require them to strut and prance like show ponies or exotic dancers, and then at the first sign of imperfection (uneven forelock, cellulite, whatever) we rip them to shreds.
How ’bout everyone knock it off and read and engage and create a meaningful discussion? Can we do that, or is the future really going to be one of bitch and snark and tiny soundbites of vitriol?
PS – I think Pert Plus is cowardly, too. Buy two fucking bottles, okay? Shampoo and conditioner. Your hair will thank you.