OK. US. PEOPLE. LIFE AND STYLE. There's a few others, but these are the names unfortunately left clinging to the walls of my cerbral cortex like shit on an outhouse wall. Every weekend I spend HOURS picking up the rampant publication detritus of our store's magazine section, and these are the number one read journals of tripe that make their way again and again off the shelves and into people's casual hands, to be scrutinized for gossip and then left hanging from various endcaps and fixtures, shelves and counters, chairs and floor for people like me to come along, scoop up and redeposit them in their proper display, only to momentarily be swept away again so yet another slack-jawed gawker can come along and drain them of their 'information'.
Imagine being one who would spend your time accessing the supposed personal lives of the celebrities that 'The Spectacle' (thanks Grant) issues to your obssessive, boring and vicariousness-fueled minds. Imagine actually caring about what will be in this week's edition, as they parade cover story after cover story of this actress' belly, this one's tits; this actor's struggles with pills, this one's overdose. Can't imagine it? Okay, well now imagine staring into the eyes of one who meets all those criteria and more - are you too feeling the sting of the thwarted futurist? Feeling science's failure? WHERE'S MY GODDAMN STERILIZER RAY!!!
A woman became very irrate one Saturday morning recently when our shipment of weekly scandal rags had not arrived in time. She had 'woken early and made a special trip' just to read the new issues (never mind that she, like most, would probably not have bought the rags she felt so strongly about being denied, instead choosing to sit and read them in the store, no doubt spilling coffee or chocolate or chocolate coffee all over them before leaving them to be recovered by the likes of myself and the other patient hearts who toil to accentuate their leisure.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? Why would anybody care that much about the lives of others? Is it as though I have always imagined, that these hapless shells of wretch we see in similar visage to ourselves have nothing and no one in their lives to inspire any passion or adventure of their own, so that they await so eagerly the further happenings of the cult of celebrity*? I ask you, oh weary reader, IS THIS LIVING??? Is this worthy of the same air that those of us how value our lives breathe? Perhaps one of the major oil companies, in preparation for the eventual dry up of their life's blood, could team up with an energy drink company and do those of us actually LIVING on this planet a favor and invent a stylized alterna-oxygen 'fuel' that those more concerned with vicarious-living, product-obeisance and general douche-baggery could purchase at a premium and partake in, thus creating another fashion whirlwind for themselves, many more millions of $$$ for the company, and an un-tainted supply of this Planet's actual lifesblood for those of us intent on getting on with it and LIVING our lives, not skulking through them like a less than interesting boutique on the corner of the new shopping developement.
I should like to see that, a fashionista expressing their dominance with a Coach gasmask pumping Cosmopolitan-sweetened air through their system, looking down on us 'breathers' as if from a pedestal of superiority.
*see my earlier post on this, titled 'Legalese'