The show

Did you see that South Park where Britney Spears blew her head off but the media still followed her every move? And then at the end (sorry to ruin it) they found Miley Cyrus and started following her? Stan's dad was part of the unspoken cabal intent on destroying celebrities.

And I think it's true. I have a friend- Let's call her Misty just to piss her off. Misty has a problem- Misty is obsessed with everything that Amy Winehouse does. And she shares the minutia of "Wino"'s life on google reader. Being one of her friends, I am updated to Wino's every move. Unfortunately Misty also shares some interesting things, so I can't immediately discount her shared items. So here I am, at least once a day, skimming past headlines that are totally concerned with the fact that some drugged out "talent" left a club with a lamp. That was the story the other day. She took a lamp.

Some days, she goes out to get cigarettes. Some days she get's drunk. Or signs an autograph. No matter what she does, I can see in my head the 18 photographers following her around.

That's probably the worst part of this whole business- how do you wake up in the morning and go to work, when your job is to stalk some fucked up celebrity? You have to know in the back of your head that you are the problem with the world. Kind of like somebody who tries to get people to watch something on television by scaring them or telling them that the life of their children depends on it. What do you call those people? Hmm.

At least at my job, I'm not jamming a camera in someone's face.

The next to worst part is the writing of these sites that Misty frequents. It's pure bile. I'm still shocked sometimes by the hatred they have of Wino. It's as if I had to write about pudding all day, and pudding killed my father. That is the tone of the articles. Let me dig up an example..

In this passage, the writer talks about what it would be like to look at Wino's breasts...

I’d say “not a pleasant sight” is a bit of an understatement. It’d be looking at
two scabby fried eggs you found on the ground and then squashed and slid around
on a dirty window. And the scabby fried eggs are attached to the alien from
Predator’s head and the alien is making the tongue-between-the-fingers sign for
cunnilingus and snarling at you through the partition. I’ve had nightmares that
weren’t that hideous. I’m pretty sure hara-kiri is the only respectable choice
for your penis once you’ve seen something like that.

I appreciate some good filth as much as the next guy, and reading this alone might elicit a chuckle from you- but imagine reading this every day. Imagine writing this every day. After a while, it wears on me.

When she dies (which she probably will soon) then I'll have to read hateful critiques of the funeral. And then some guy will blast her choice in caskets. And then some other asshole will talk shit about her gravestone (it should be made of crack! ha!).

You know, I obsess over video games and media and computer shit. And maybe I'm a giant dork. And I need to go to the gym and eat better.

But thank god I'm not one of these people. I'm better than this shit.