A word on stars to end the night. I don't like crossposting from my blog, but it's fair to warn people that've read it to skip this daylog. All three of you have been warned. I just like the way it came out. Sorry if I offended anyone.
Yo Britney dude, seriously. What the fuck? I mean, I follow the news as half-assedly as the next guy, but this piqued my interest, that dance of hers. A day later, I'd heard on the news that she'd "gone into hiding", but that probably this was a rumour. Either way, that's awesome. I am a fan of people who get fat with booze and drugs and hop on stage in their underthings and dance badly. I like watching a musician deep in the throes of heroin or whatever attempting to figure out the world. When I see this, I always think to myself that this society we have is in perfect working order. Homo sapiens is funny and intriguing on so many different levels, and all will be well in the future. But this Britney thing kind of sucks, bitch is talented, but it's just so funny watching that dance. It looked to me like she was trying to acclimate herself to brand new bipolar disorder medication. The Lithium ions coursing through her veins, it looked like to me, was disabling her acting DNA. No wait, it's more like she showed up and the crowd was there, and she instantly thought: "Oh, Christ. I thought this was the dress rehearsal. Fuck. Fuck!"
According to the repository of all necessary human knowledge and factual accuracy, Wikipedia-sama, it says that K-Fizzle is seeking custody of her children, and while I think it's hilarious that she allowed that waste of space to shoot his spunk into her vaginal cavity and then subsequently allow said spunk to germinate and fester there, it makes me wonder about her children. What will happen? I mean, she's far too wealthy to have her children taken away for any appreciable time. I envision the children, on their twentieth birthday or thereabouts, sitting around the house, eating a peanut butter sandwich, and then they show that performance? What a world-shaker that would be. In a way we expect Michael Jackson's children to be fucked from the outset, and I suppose I'd like to believe that Frances Cobain has a good idea that her mother's batshit insane. But these two? I dunno.
It's like...the honeymoon's over, you know? In 2001 or so we had Christina and Britney jockeying for that all-important trailer park slut position, Christina and Limp Bizkit performing at the MTV Awards, and Eminem rapping about killing his mother. That era of bliss, era of sublime peace, is forever gone, awash in a heady sea of rehabs and celebrity sex videos. Everybody has a goddamned sex tape these days, even Meg White! (Just Google for "Meg White sex tape", folks. Looks like her to me.) I mean, it was trendsetting when it was Anderson/Lee, but now? Paris/Fat Guy revived the genre briefly, but I suppose society-at-large thinks all others pale in comparison. And while I think it an important genre--you know, voyeurism/papparazzi to the Nth degree--I don't really need any more. There's enough gossip in the world, clearly.
I wonder if Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan are pals. Like, do they chum around, snort cocaine off each other's toilets and do shots off each other's midriffs? That is a world I dream of. In much the same way that George Carlin likes a little disaster, or a lot of disaster, I like watching these people destroy themselves. It's neat! Well, maybe the destruction, in and of itself, isn't neat. Maybe it's that it's news that makes it A-OK in my book. I like that we all get so involved that we wonder if Ms. Lohan's new movie is going to be okay. Of course it isn't, she's fucked up the whole time, how do you suppose you'd act in front of a camera? I have acted numerous times, and it's hard enough for me to not crack a smile if someone tells a funny joke. Even if it's scripted. Even if it's my fucking line.
I want it to get worse. I want it to escalate. I'd like to see some famous ex-teenybopper host Saturday Night Live and go into convulsions from excessive cocaine enjoyment, live, no tape delay. I want to see a well-known pop singer get an interracial, homosexual menage a trois going on and have it fed to the giant screens at the Superbowl, while Paul McCartney plays "Let it Be". I want to hear about some drunk musician plowing into a schoolyard brimming with children with his lowriding Lincoln Navigator, bathing the glossy white with blood. I want the news supersaturated with steroid scandals and civil suits. Get up in the morning wondering who's dead today, and afterward wondering how much the funeral costs. I want to see an Olsen twin get fucked up on PCP and get arrested for tying a noose around her dog-in-a-bag's head in the confessional of a Catholic church and then her publicist releases a statement that she is "being hospitalized for acute exhaustion. Her family asks that the public respect her wishes for privacy in this difficult time." And more marrying old billionaires please, that's fucking fantastic! Is it so awful, really, to get so much enjoyment out of all this? Is it so much to ask to get more of this on the news? I edited an offensive line here.
I watched the OJ white Ford Bronco chase live on television with a young woman named Juanita Bursey. I must've been thirteen or fourteen. I watched most of the trial, and I kept waiting for him to go to jail, and it never happened. Thanks, OJ, maybe now I'll get my wish! I understand that your life has been broken, but man. Armed robbery? A goddamned retinue to hand? That's fucking amazing. This memory of watching the chase is one of the fondest of my life, excepting things like my daughter's birth. I was in love, or as in love as you can be at fourteen (which turns out is quite a lot), and there was this incredibly interesting shit happening on TV. Both she and I watched with mounting interest. Now imagine if we'd been there to see Jack Ruby shot. We'd be happily married now. Hollywood catastrophe brings people together forever.