Can someone please explain to me just what it is about celebrities that everyone seems to find so fascinating? I mean, Jesus H. Christ, who the fuck are these people anyway? Did one of them find a cure for cancer? No. What about the invention of some amazing technological advancement or a scientific discovery perhaps? Er, nope, wrong again. How about risk taking - are they incredible risk takers or adventurers that have some kind of fascinating story to convey? It would appear not. So why the hell are so many people bothering to read about these frivolous underachieving nobodies?
Celebrity. What an empty, senseless, inconsequential thing to be. I mean, I was asked the other day for my opinions on the recent Jimmy Savile paedophile allegations.
“First of all,” I said, “he’s dead so who gives a shit?”
“Secondly,” I went on, “he was a famous weirdo, whose only contribution to entertainment was sitting in a big red silly looking chair, with a tonne of bling all over him, smoking an enormous sized cigar and making weird orgasm noises around a bunch of kids who wanted him to fulfil their dreams in return for Christ knows what. And you are seriously asking me if I think he was a paedophile or not?”
“But if it’s not true these allegations could ruin his reputation as a celebrity,” remarked the idiot I was talking to.
“Ruin his reputation!?" I exclaimed. “As a celebrity!? If you’re a celebrity, you don’t have a reputation that is worth a damn as far as I’m concerned. You’re already at the bottom of the shit pile for being such an egocentric turd that actually wanted to be famous for nothing in the first place. You are the lowest of the low, in my eyes, and should be taken straight to the gas chamber for an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something worthwhile, like free up some air and parking spaces.”
Out of curiosity I actually flipped through one of those 99p celeb magazines that the barmaid in my local boozer was “reading” the other night just to see how many famous people I could actually recognise. The magazine might as well have been a clothing catalogue as I turned the pages pointing at photos going “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”
Finally I came across a picture of Simon Bastarding Cowell with his stupid smug grin and bog brush haircut.
“Aha!” I exclaimed. “Here’s one that should be shot in the face!”
“How can you say such horrible things?” queried the barmaid. “Simon’s done well for himself.”
Done well for himself. Jesus fucking Christ! Look at the guy. He’s a goddamned nobody who’s made a living out of creating other nobodies and sticking them in the limelight. Famous for being famous and well-known for being well-known. That’s it, ladies and gentlemen, a turd. A blemish on our society and this is what our civilisation has come to. We live on a tiny little fragile blue and green ball floating in the immense, incomprehensible vastness of space, but somehow Simon ‘Cocksucker’ Cowell has done well for himself and this is in some way important.
Well, he sure as fuck hasn’t done well for anybody else.
This world is going to the dogs. We are seriously doomed as a species if this is what is important to us in the 21st Century. It’s ‘Game Over’ time kids, unless we march the likes of Simon Cowell off to the gas chamber right now, or blow his bog brush haircut right off the top of his head with a Magnum 44.
"You want a flat top with a middle parting, Simon, ya bastard!?"
KABOOOM!!
Apparently though, in my local community, I’m the guy that needs the attitude adjustment.
Go figure.
media-underground.net