Giving Up Celebrities

giving up celebrities

When I stopped writing for Popdust a few weeks ago, I never thought I would lose interest in celebrities.

Having to write about them every day involved a total immersion in their real and made-up antics. I labored over the Daily Mail, looking for some news or photos I could spin into a post. I refused to just copy something that had already been posted somewhere else. Even though my writing and the website itself were garbage, I took a pathetic pride in being original.

I became an expert on Kim and Kanye.

My husband had to ask me several times when we were out walking to stop talking about Kanye. I found it hard not to share the contents of my knowledge base. I thought about Kylie and Khloe and Madonna and Gwyneth even when I was off the clock.  I started checking in on them several times a day, worried about missing something.

I followed Rumer Willis on Twitter, and tried to decode her tweets to her sister, whatshername.

Now, I am blissfully unaware of Rumer’s musings, and I don’t know where Kylie stands with Tyga.

Without any deliberate detox plan, I quit celebrities, just like that!

It feels like a miracle. No longer preoccupied with celebrities, I haven’t become more productive and I haven’t developed a new interest, but at least I don’t talk about Kanye. I think it’s a win.

On the other hand, I may have a lot more free-floating rage and hatred. But I will need it for our Insane Clown President. 

In fact, given Matt Taibbi‘s brilliant nickname for Donald Trump, it would be wonderfully fitting if Insane Clown Posse and a few thousand juggalos could perform at the inauguration! Please, universe, make this happen.

Where once I could rant about Taylor Swift with the passion of a crazed zealot, now I have no idea what she’s up to, and I wonder how I could once get so worked up about her.

Maybe it’s the emergence of actual villains that has drained my hatred for celebrities, or maybe familiarity really does breed contempt. Getting some distance from Kim Kardashian’s ass has helped me to refocus on my own ass,  such as it is.

If you fear that you are a hopeless celebrity addict, take it from me, you can live without them. Step 1 is to renounce the Daily Mail, and if I could do it, so can you. Then, move away from your computer and start thinking about your ass.

 

*photo by Juggalo4U

 

Posted in Celebrities, News, Uncategorized, Words | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Minor Improvements For 2017

minor improvements for 2017As passengers on the Titanic, we should brace ourselves for the iceberg, but there is still stuff we can do to take the edge off.

Let’s think of the small ways we can make our doomed existence more tolerable in the coming year.

I’ll start with words, because they matter.

In 2017, the following words and expressions are hereby banned. If I catch you in the act of using one, I will kill you.

Yassss – No excuse, even ironically. I WILL KILL YOU.

“Dem/Dat ____, though.” – Stop it. You aren’t in Compton. Enough with dis shit.

Push back – Just say disagree or contradict.

Cross-body –  I just hate it and that’s that.

Crop jeans/pants – CROPPED, motherfuckers!

Guys –  Even newscasters now address us as “guys.” It’s not just Taylor Swift. Knock it off.

Athleisure – We’re better than this, aren’t we?

Insta – If you’re too tired to say Instagram, just don’t talk.

 

Now, let’s do topics that need to be put to rest.

Why Trump won– If I hear “The people wanted change” or “You don’t understand” or “She ran a bad campaign” ONE MORE TIME, someone’s going to die.

Misogyny – I know, it’s bad, and so’s the patriarchy. Next subject!

Ridiculing college kids – what babies, safe spaces, microaggressions, stop coddling them bla bla bla. Shut up with that superiority already, we get it.

Anal sex – no longer shocking, just annoying. Happy now, Lena Dunham? Now move on.

Netflix binging – I don’t care what you loved watching if it includes anything with zombies or cyborgs. It’s safer to keep your awful taste to yourself.

The gig economy – Nope. Shut it.

Millennials –  Same as above.

 

For clothes, in 2017, here’s my tip: Find out what’s “hot” (bare shoulders, bedroom slippers) and staunchly reject it. If everyone’s wearing it, don’t.

For music in 2017, try listening to 70’s soul or old gospel or garage bands. Make up an obscure rapper and go around praising his influence as the real OG. I thought Lil Yachty was made up but sadly he is real.

Now it’s up to you. What are your suggestions for easing the horror of 2017?

 

 

Posted in irritants, News, Words | Tagged , , | 12 Comments

Frank Sinatra: What a Fucking Cunt!™

frank sinatra what a cfucking cunt

George Michael was my guilty secret at one time, a crush I was embarrassed to admit. But really, who could resist that beautiful voice and sensual face, the obscure sadness behind even his poppiest songs?

Another horrible loss to 2016, the second worst year of my life. Our icons are dropping like flies and only an assassin can save us from catastrophe in 2017.

Meanwhile, I was disgusted to learn that in 1990, Frank Sinatra felt compelled to respond to an interview with George Michael in the Los Angeles Times.

In the interview, Michael discussed his disillusionment with fame:

Stardom can make you miserable. After all, everybody wants to be a star. I certainly did, and I worked hard to get it. But I was miserable, and I don’t want to feel that way again.

Well, that was too much for Old Blue eyes, who shot back with this letter.

Loosen up. Swing, man.” Jesus Christ, what a cunt. Who asked you, motherfucker?

Then the gossamer wings crack. Why not just call him a fairy, Frank?

I’ve seen this letter all over the place today, described as ‘Sinatra’s advice ‘ to George Michael.

It’s just an arrogant prick spouting off. Fuck him.

As I have said too many times, if he died every day for the next hundred years, Frank Sinatra will never be dead enough for me.

R.I.P. George Michael, I miss you already.

Posted in Art, Celebrities, grief, Rants, Words | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Just Admit It

just admit itThe other day, I was devising a plan to get an acquaintance to admit that he will never drive to my house. I would put him on the spot by issuing an open invitation, saying, “Just pick any day that you’d like to come over and that will be fine!”

Ha, I thought. What then? That’ll fuck him up!

My husband pointed out that the acquaintance would just say, “Let’s talk after the holidays.”

Then he asked me what good it would do to get this guy to admit the truth.

Let’s pause here.

I have some questions.

Do you like to hear the truth?
Are you annoyed when you know someone is not being straight with you?
Do you practice denial in your daily life?
Do you respect other people’s right to practice denial?
Do you try to avoid being frank about unpleasant things?
And of course: Can you handle the truth?

I can’t handle the untruth. One of my most obnoxious traits is that I go around trying to get people to admit stuff.

There’s a song by Jane’s Addiction called “Ted, Just Admit it“that refers to Ted Bundy, the serial killer who wouldn’t admit to his crimes until just before he was executed.

I think of the title all the time, when someone is expecting me to accept some bullshit, however insignificant. JUST ADMIT IT TED, I feel like yelling. In fact, I think I have yelled it a couple times.

No one likes a friend who acts like a cross examining prosecutor but that doesn’t stop me.

Why can’t everybody just admit everything?

Is Oedipus an allegory about the price of knowing the truth? What about the story of Adam and Eve? Why are there so many myths that reinforce the idea that ignorance is bliss?

The truth might not set you free but it will make me feel better. I just want to hear it and get it over with.

Admit that you’re tired of this confession, which is territory I have already covered, sort of.

Admit that you don’t care about bad faith, as defined in existentialism.

Admit your deepest secret, at least to yourself, and see how liberating it is.

Admit everything, except in a court of law or a 12 step meeting or if your boss finds out you haven’t been filing those things but instead you just threw them in a box somewhere because you were busy fucking around online. Then you should just keep your mouth shut.

Posted in Disorders | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Boy Or Girl

boy or girlIf you’re wondering whether this is a boy or girl, how dare you!

Why should it matter?! You are stuck in your binary thinking.

Even wondering is a microagression. I’m not kidding. What’s your fucking problem?

The whole idea of gender is ridiculous and insulting. It’s not only a cultural construct, but bla bla bla.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy, and I don’t even understand Shakespeare.

Gender is a spectrum. You need to be more gender-expansive.

Here, try again.

boy or girlSome people are really mad about the latest issue of National Geographic.

boy or girlMe, I don’t have to worry about being a gay man in a woman’s body. I’m comfortable with myself just as god made me. For others, it’s not so easy.

I certainly don’t care who uses which bathroom, as long as the line’s not too long.

But I admit I still like to know if I’m looking at a boy or girl.

Are you as fucked up in this respect?

Thoughts, insults, advice?

 

Posted in Fashion, irritants | Tagged , , | 12 Comments

Don’t Worry, We Still Have Denim

don't worry we still have denimUntil Donald Trump appoints a Commissioner of Denim to take it away from us, we still have denim to turn to for a spark of joy. This jacket by DSquared2 brings a whole forest fire of joy, with it’s thick encrusted bib and poofy shoulders.

dont worry we still have denimFrom behind, it looks like some creature has hopped onto the host organism and won’t let go.

I like the gloves too, which hint at a skin disease. At $3,680, this is a true collector’s piece.

What if you paired the jacket with these jeans?

R13’s Alison Leyton crop jeans are assembled from blue stretch-denim ornamented with frayed patches.

I like how they’re “assembled” and “ornamented.” This is no haphazard sewing class failure! This is art. As always, a team of teething babies worked for days, chewing on the patches to ensure a realistic fraying.

At $595, these jeans are a steal. In fact, oops, I see now that they’re sold out at Barney’s but I’ll help you find a pair if you need them.

Finally, a jacket from Mark Jacobs.

don't worry we still have denimThis one says “80’s K-Mart” and that’s the joke. Get it?? A horrible acid-washed color, afflicted with pins and patches: a razor blade, peace sign, a fake ska emblem, and some crap on the back.

don't worry we still have denimEw. I’d like to know the customer who’d pay $895 for this. Even a Kardashian knows better.

But who am I to judge; I’m just here to spread the joy.

Posted in Fashion | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

Do You See What I See?

When I first saw the picture above, I saw a guy about to jump.

I still see that, but I’m aware that it’s just an ad for some new Nike’s.

My brain is not good, or let’s say it’s not operating in a beneficial way.

I once had a thriftshop painting of a guy holding a baby, and it looked clear to me that he was about to throw it off a balcony.  I liked to ask people to look at it and tell me what they saw. I wasn’t the only one who saw that but the vast majority saw a guy holding a baby, even tenderly holding it.

I saw this painting at the vet’s office and was reminded of the guy-with-the-baby picture:

Here, I see a guy about to throw the dog off of something, even though he is sad about it. He’s thinking, “Well, I wish I didn’t have to.”

I remember taking the Rorschach inkblot test when I was around 12 years old. Some genius had figured out that I was troubled. I recall seeing people sitting despondently, waiting to get shot or something. After a few of these inkblots, I realized that my answers sounded nuts. I can’t remember if I decided to make up better reactions.

Lots of psychological notions are amusingly archaic but the theory of projection is still pretty sound, don’t you think?

Trump is projecting, every time he rants about corruption or liars or crooks. That’s just a big Duh.

I’m sorry, I don’t know how Trump got in here. I wish he were only a projection of my hatred of authority, or my dad.

At least I don’t see dead people. I see despondent people.

Read more about Rorschach here .

Read more about those Nike’s here.

And if you’re thinking about jumping, don’t.

Posted in Art, Disorders | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Trump And Kanye: The Perfect Convergence

It is only natural that Trump invites Kanye to Trump Tower instead of holding that scheduled press conference.

Kanye has just been released from a psychiatric ward so he’s the perfect guest for today’s episode of The Trump Show. (And watch the dap, it is truly the money shot.)

They will work their way up to Kim and maybe even Kylie for the youth market, then they can have Young Thug, Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber, The Bachelor, and the Victoria’s Secret models.

Later in the season, there will be Madonna, to talk about misogyny and ageism. Drake will hang out with Trump and Jred Kushner in a mini Jewish Summit.

This is the show of our dreams, if our dreams are a waking nightmare, and we’ll watch it    whenever we gather our nerve to crawl out of bed.

I’d like to suggest interspersing The Trump Show, season 1, with viewings of Bunuel’s L’Age d’Or. It can serve as a bracing counterpart to the ongoing Idiocracy .

Bunuel’s L’Age d’Or operates on the duality between gold and shit. And throughout the film, everything sacred and pure was eventually equated to what is base and foul.

God, shit, president, moron, news, conspiracies, politicians, celebrities, make everything great again.

I can’t take much more for today so I’m retiring to my bed. Wake me up if Kim makes an appearance or Trump blows Putin or Exxon cancels the series. thanks!

Posted in Celebrities, Horrible Stuff | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

Do The Math

do-the-math

I went to the doctor to get some awful infusion for my decrepit bones, and all I could think about was that I’d gained two pounds.

I don’t have a scale at home and I don’t like getting on them but the nurse told me to do it. I was horrified by the two new pounds. Just a few weeks earlier, I’d been to another doctor and I’d found my weight acceptable.

Here’s where it gets good. I complained and whined that I didn’t want to be fat, on top of everything else. Nothing would stop me from being pissed off. I decided it must have been my heavy shoes.

So the next day, I put my shoes in a plastic bag and took them to the market to weigh them in the produce department. The plastic bag shows how thoughtful I am.

Sure enough, two pounds!

Now I can breathe a little easier but this has underscored how deep-rooted the fear of fat is.

But the fear of fat, at this point, is tied up with aging, a dreadful prospect. And yet we must all age, even though the only woman on earth who is really old but not tragic and still hot is Gloria Steinem.

Aging doesn’t suit me and I don’t want it. I have looked at old ladies who are celebrated for their beauty and it’s still awful. It makes me want to just give up. Here’s a 62 year old model who posed for an American Apparel ad:

do-the-mathHere’s a model who is 70:

do the mathThis one is 71:

do the mathThis last one is a model who looks like she must spend a lot of time weighing her shoes. She is very lean and everyone loves her.

This is the best you can hope for (unless you’re Gloria Steinem.) You can look like an ancient old crone who has refused to Let Herself Go. And where’s the appeal in that??

As the years go by, try to think of me like this, asking my husband how my butt looks –

sinnerAnd know that these shoes weigh a full two pounds.

 

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Donald Trump: Cunt Of The Year!™

donald trump: cunt of the yearKudos to Donald Trump for winning this coveted award.

He will dismantle public education, health care, environmental protection, voting rights, public housing, and then he will blow up the whole world!

Great choice, republicans.

Now, we can duck and cover, take to the streets, call for impeachment, pray he has a fatal heart attack or pretend this is all a dream.

Moving to Canada won’t help.

Every day, all day long, what a fucking cunt.

Follow the corruption here.

Posted in Horrible Stuff, News | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments