Objectivism at the coffee shop
Int. Coffee Shop.
I’d like a coffee, black, two sugars.
You can have black coffee.
And I’d like two sugars too, please.
No. I will never compromise my integrity.
CUSTOMER goes to Starbucks next door.
Heath Ledger, R.I.P.
The curse of 28 strikes again.
John Stewart, R.I.P.
Calm down, people: John, not Jon. John Stewart was in the seminal college folk singer group The Kingston Trio, and went on as a songwriter after the demise of said group. You may have heard “Daydream Believer” by Smash Mouth. Well, the Monkees beat them to it by some 30 years and made the better version. Suck on that, Smash Mouth. Anyway, Stewart wrote that song, and probably other songs too. Now he’s gone, but Smash Mouth is still here. As are The Monkees, but they apparently hate one another.
Could someone explain?
I’m going through the newspaper, there’s doctor Phil saying he’s worried about Britney. So fucking what? Fuck doctor Phil. Fuck his droopy moustache. Fuck his suit and fuck his Southern drawl. I’m really sick of this shit. Britney’s clearly lost it. So would I or you if we had a pack of wolves with cameras two steps behind us every hour of the day of every week. She’ll most likely be dead by her own hand soon anyway, and all because nobody said “back off, this is not front page news”.
I’m just tired of this. It’s not news, and it doesn’t belong on the front page of an ostensibly serious paper. It might be a note on the gossip pages in the back, but that’s it. Potential civil war in Pakistan or Kenya, American primary elections (although I’m sick of that too by now), energy reform in India or anything of note. Of note. Which means: Britney Spears, no. Leave her alone, and more importantly: leave the rest of us alone. Please. We’re dumb enough as it is. We can at least try to pretend otherwise.