Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Some kind of sick joke.

I am appalled.

No, no.

I am filled with a sea of so many different emotions: nausea, for sure, the whole bile going up my throat but failing to come out so it just goes back down again. Laughter, of course, but oh so many different kinds of laughter - from the cynical chuckle with the matching "oh dear Lord" shake of the head, to the all-out, annoying laugh that makes people turn their heads to give you a "what the hell?" kind of look you usually give to noisy kids in the library. Frustration, definitely, is right up there; the whole wanting to scream "what the fuck are you doing, you imbecile!" at screenwriters who butcher books as they adapt it to the silver screen, only to fail their sorry asses.

Allow me to offer an explanation: John Mayer is a sad excuse for a musician. He had one, maybe 2 hits at the most, during his peak a couple of years back. He is a sycophant. He flatters actual musicians and calls them his "idols" and "influences" while adapting their music and making it his own. He should stick to his re-founded fame as Jennifer Aniston's boytoy. The man should not be allowed within 20 feet of a microphone. I look at my brother and share with him a "Sucks, huh?" look that passes between two people at a loss for words from such an experience.

For shame, for shame, do not embarass yourself further.

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