Earlier this evening I saw some PMT wielding mole on Big Brother moan about how introducing a new person to the house was upsetting her. The fact that her rationale could induce an up-chuck reflex faster than John Wayne could draw a six-shooter from its holster is irrelevant. There was only one thing she said that makes her important enough to mention in this polysyllabic cacophony of idiocy. To quote her:
“I’m hard to figure out!!”
What a pile of sun dried placenta.
Because I can’t just blame her, I’ll point the finger at the 6 billion people on earth that think the same.
Everyone thinks they’re special, everyone thinks that if the world only had 5 seconds to listen to them, they’d be exalted and hoisted onto the proverbial shoulders of humankind where they would be worshiped as a bottomless pit of individuality.
The reality is, you and even your talented friends are all as insipidly uninteresting as each other. You’re not hard to figure out, all you need is shelter, food/water and a minute level of affection. Without those things you’re dead, and with them you’re just a retired taxi driver in the traffic jam of life.
Even 99% of celebrities have nothing special to offer. What they have is a close approximation of worth, that is photo shopped and pre planned into a package of fake.
Want an example?
Remember the Sydney 2000 Olympic games, that scabby kneed little girl who sang the national anthem whilst dangling from steel cable attached to her toilet training pants. Well since then she’s grown up, produced a shit load of piss ant crappy albums and become an Idol to adolescents who don’t know better than what I’m about to show you.
“I wish I was as pretty as Nikki Webster,” the kiddies might think. Luckily, it’s not that fucking hard.
Here is a set of pictures taken of her, one as she is… the other touched up by some prick with a graphics tablet and a corner office with a window:
To quote the League of Gentlemen “They can do anything these days, they’ve got computers!!”
Is it any wonder that you hear so many stories of people meeting celebrities and they turn out to be assholes. One story I heard involved Kieran Perkins telling someone to fuck off. I mean the guy sells freaking milk these days, he’s as popular as 8 day old sushi and someone just wants to say hello to him. The best he can muster is “Fuck Off.”
At least celebrities have achieved something you haven’t, people know their name. The real individuals are few and far between, Da Vinci, Darwin, Hendrix, Socrates and that fat kid from ‘Hey Dad.’ They’re some names that will stand the test of time.
If I could suggest a tattoo to anyone it would be a barcode, just to constantly remind you that you’re as important as a limited edition Ferrari to the Amish.
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