My phone starts to light up. Friends are telling me “if she can’t win, none of us can”. Friends are defriending their other computer bound friends for outing themselves as Depp supporters. Or Heard supporters. The emotional energy behind the maneuverings of two people whose failure to deliver on screen as of late has been supplanted by their participation in the courtroom flambé of what one commenter called “the trial of the century” without for a second thinking of how crazy that sounds.
These two supremely failed humans have held the world in thrall to the limits of their imaginations and everyone’s all in, up to and including us right now. Legal experts are weighing in. Politicians, who apparently have solved our shooting problems. Other “entertainers” because: of course, they would.
One sage observer cleverly helped the veer that we’re on here when she said this is more about the fact that now you can be sued for actually NOT naming someone in something you’ve written that they could say was about them or, at the very least, inspired by them. That almost holds water. Especially if you’re prone to being concerned about the feelings of chiropractors fond of animal fucking videos, but that’s not nearly why this happened or what it’s really about.
It’s about the corrosive nature of celebrity and the fact that once we know people are watching we can’t stop wanting them to watch and we’ll do anything to get them to continue to do so. This chimp parade of “celebrities” in swimsuits as the summer months arrive. Celebrities “roasting” each other. Celebrities “slamming” each other. Total nonentities whose lives occupy more space in our own lives than our actual lives.
It’s enough to make you wonder exactly WHO we’re celebrating.
But your letters are read. And we'll yield to popular demand. But you'll regret this
