The Other Lives
Do you know why MTV calls their show Cribs? It’s because celebrities are a bunch of babies. Jesus Christ. First there was Shaggy, who, I mean, when was Boombastic a hit? In 1902? Wasn’t Boombastic a hit back in the day when black musicians only had their music broadcast on the radio and they tried to sound white so that without any images of the band the mainstream would believe the music they were enjoying to be the racially inoffensive product of some wool-sweatered letterman from the local campus? My apartment is bigger than Shaggy’s house, incidentally, and he referred to his Ferrari as “moist”, which is disgusting, and sick.
Then there was some guy from the New York Football Team, who lived in an apartment building on Long Island. His “dining room” was the size of a breakfast nook, but it had a glass enclosure, and I shit you not in the least when I repeat what he said: “It’s really cool, in the wintertime, to have a candle-lit dinner out here. When it’s snowing it looks like the snow is going to fall right on your plate.” Listen, Kunta Kinte, it’s called glass, and just because it’s clear doesn’t make it magical. No one thinks they’re getting snowed on in your breakfast nook. Then he kept talking about these two paintings that he referred to as his “mistress” and “the woman of the house” and I was like, ah, the telltale signs of a fellow chronic masturbator, giving human behavioral characteristics to two-dimensional images of women. But my very favorite part may have been when he took “us” outside to show us his cars, and then wandered around the grounds of his apartment building, and he said that he liked to come out there sometimes and just sit and listen to the waterfalls and think about life. The waterfalls to which he was referring were two really ugly fountains that just sprayed water, they weren’t even fountains in the shape of waterfalls. And I’m surprised he has much time to sit and ponder “life” or whatever the fuck that means, when he has two anxiously awaiting oil paintings upstairs just waiting to be spooged upon.
My weekend sucked.