Please tell me I’m not the only person who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Tiger Woods’ car wreck, facial cuts, marital problems or — gasp! — possible affairs. Once again, Americans act all shocked and horrified (and titillated, but that’s never said out loud) that a celeb they admire is a human being. It’s one of our weirdest cultural traits, and people around the world who study such odd habits have remarked on Americans’ tendency to get seriously jacked up about celebs’ private lives — not that other countries don’t do it, but apparently nothing like the way we do it. And it’s always something. Before Tiger, it was who’s gonna be the new Oprah? Or it’s the two bozos who crashed Pres. Obama’s state dinner, or Levi Johnston’s Playgirl pictures, and before that, an endless stream of blather about two of the least interesting people on earth, Jon and Kate Whatstheirname. As Gail Collins opines in the New York Times, maybe it’s because the big news stories these days are all incredibly depressing (Afghanistan, anyone?), but the number of B.S. stories about celebs’ dirty laundry seems to rising even faster than the unemployment rate.
This article appears in Dec 1-7, 2009.
Griffin, you pitiful shmuck, in what universe does what you wrote here pass for some kind of insight? Maybe you didn’t notice, but the blog isn’t even about politics – but you’re so obsessive and tunnel-visioned, you go right ahead with your pseudo-libertarian horseshit, regardless. I haven’t checked out the comments at CL’s site for some time, and I can’t believe you’re still hanging around, ranting about articles on a website that appeals to liberals. What do you think? That they’re going to change their articles just because you’re lurking around, like some pervert around a girls’ school? GET. A. LIFE. YOU. SAD. FUCK.
To Jay Patrick:
Please forgive Frank. He forgot to take his meds again and his brain cells are rolling around like romaine in a salad spinner. It’s sad, really. We keep urging him to take some time to himself, go somewhere for an extended rest, stay off the computer for a few days or weeks. You know, somewhere he can look at pretty things and listen to soft music and take a rest from these paranoid fantasies of his.
But does he listen? Well, I think we all know the answer to that….
Frank, have you been drinking the Drano again? I’ve told you time and time again: Drano is for clearing drains — not for drinking! It destroys brain cells. And now just look at you! Spending days on end at that confounded computer, typing up your delusions for all the world to see, mumbling to yourself, soiling your britches. Your father and I do all we can but you simply don’t listen! Fine, Frank. Go ahead — break your mother’s heart. Hear that sound? It’s the sound of a mother’s tears….