Society is bereft of decency. By decency, I'm not talking about bullshit Victorian manners where women wouldn't say the word "cock" if Ron Jeremy was bouncing his hog off their tonsils; or evangelical "fuck who I think God wants you to fuck" sermonizing. I'm talking about having the common human decency to leave well enough alone.
As exhibit one, I offer a reality show called "I Wanna Be a Rock Star: INXS." The surviving members of eighties pop group INXS are turning their search for a new lead singer into a public spectacle. Their original singer, Michael Hutchence, died in late 1997. He hanged himself, a result of either autoerotic asphyxiation (choking oneself to enhance orgasm during masturbation) or he just got depressed and killed himself. Since Michael Hutchence fucked more super models than bulemia, I find either scenario inexplicable.
How the man died is unimportant. His bandmates and so-called friends, perhaps a little cash-strapped, are gleefully raping his corpse for fun and profit. I was never a big INXS fan, but they owed ALL of their success to the fact that Michael Hutchence made teenage girls want to buy their crappy music. Now the remaining meat on his bones is the main course in an all-you-can-eat buffet for motherfucking vultures. They've decided to desecrate the grave of the only reason any of those hacks ever had an ounce of fame and fortune and publicly use the remnants of his earthly vessel as a toilet. Good for them. Hopefully all of them and the teenybopper who wins the contest will die when their tour plane crashes, going out like a bunch of bitch-ass Buddy Hollys. On a related note, if the surviving members of Nirvana ever hold a contest to replace Kurt Cobain, I'm going on a several-state killing spree. Ms. Hellion, you're invited to join me.
As exhibit two, I saw Dan Akroyd on Conan O'Brien's show last night. In his younger days, Danny was an original member of Saturday Night Live and a personification of cutting edge humor. Now he's a professional talk show guest, showing up to vaguely reminisce about the days when his life had meaning and shamelessly whore his various business interests. Way to rest on your laurels for the last quarter of a century, Mr. Akroyd. Regarding his friendship with John Belushi, who died in 1982, I have no doubt who the INXS guys came to for advice on how to use tragedy for financial gain.
There are a million more examples, but I'm sick to my core just thinking of them. I'd better stop typing before I paint my computer with what I had for dinner last night.
As exhibit one, I offer a reality show called "I Wanna Be a Rock Star: INXS." The surviving members of eighties pop group INXS are turning their search for a new lead singer into a public spectacle. Their original singer, Michael Hutchence, died in late 1997. He hanged himself, a result of either autoerotic asphyxiation (choking oneself to enhance orgasm during masturbation) or he just got depressed and killed himself. Since Michael Hutchence fucked more super models than bulemia, I find either scenario inexplicable.
How the man died is unimportant. His bandmates and so-called friends, perhaps a little cash-strapped, are gleefully raping his corpse for fun and profit. I was never a big INXS fan, but they owed ALL of their success to the fact that Michael Hutchence made teenage girls want to buy their crappy music. Now the remaining meat on his bones is the main course in an all-you-can-eat buffet for motherfucking vultures. They've decided to desecrate the grave of the only reason any of those hacks ever had an ounce of fame and fortune and publicly use the remnants of his earthly vessel as a toilet. Good for them. Hopefully all of them and the teenybopper who wins the contest will die when their tour plane crashes, going out like a bunch of bitch-ass Buddy Hollys. On a related note, if the surviving members of Nirvana ever hold a contest to replace Kurt Cobain, I'm going on a several-state killing spree. Ms. Hellion, you're invited to join me.
As exhibit two, I saw Dan Akroyd on Conan O'Brien's show last night. In his younger days, Danny was an original member of Saturday Night Live and a personification of cutting edge humor. Now he's a professional talk show guest, showing up to vaguely reminisce about the days when his life had meaning and shamelessly whore his various business interests. Way to rest on your laurels for the last quarter of a century, Mr. Akroyd. Regarding his friendship with John Belushi, who died in 1982, I have no doubt who the INXS guys came to for advice on how to use tragedy for financial gain.
There are a million more examples, but I'm sick to my core just thinking of them. I'd better stop typing before I paint my computer with what I had for dinner last night.
8 Comments:
1st!! Here's a Hug {Hug} or two {hug}{hug}. Nothing shocks me anymore - People just SUCK. I know that doesnt offer much - but - I didnt want to make a FULL post in your comments section.
I was disgusted by this as well. You may not have been an INXS fan, but I was. I saw them play in Sydney - their hometown - and it was one of the best concerts I've ever seen. Hutchence rocked. He had more stage presence than any 12 pissants on the charts today. Nobody even noticed the rest of the band. I hope this fails miserably.
asphyxiation!
OOPS...
I'll change that only because you pointed it out, Dena.
I'm sure FOX will come up with something where they try to replace all the members of Nirvana or try to replace Bradley Nowell from Sublime. Nothing is sarcred anymore ... nothing. Advertisers and networks would sell their mothers to the gypsies if they could grab some advertising space on the side of their wagons.
If the Beatles do reunite, I vote for their replacements to be Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones from the Monkees. I always wanted to see a combo of Davy, Micky, Paul and Ringo.
ur pretty negative huh
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