Possibly I know not much.

“My president,” Mustaine began, before pausing to pantomime gagging, “is trying to pass a gun ban, so he’s staging all of these murders, like the Fast and Furious thing down at the border, you know, Aurora, Colorado, all the people that were killed there. And now the beautiful people at the Sikh temple.” – Dave Mustaine

“There are hundreds of millions of gun owners in this country, and not one of them will have an accident today. The only misuse of guns comes in environments where there are drugs, alcohol, bad parents, and undisciplined children. Period.” – Ted Nugent

It happened to Elvis, and it happened to Lennon. It’s simple. Musicians and actors who have experienced some modicum of success simply stop hearing the phrase “Please shut up, you’re making a fool of yourself” enough in their lives. Because of their fame, all the people around them refuse to risk their place in the hierarchy, and so they tend to voice agreement, lest they lose their place at the trough. That’s the only explanation there could be. If you think about it, it’s a clever kind of hell.

 

Louie C K is trying to make me insane. He has used three women on my “let me touch them—I want to touch them” list. Tonight, Maria Thayer played the part of “rental car lady”. Previously, he used Parker Posey and Maria Bamford. As Brian Wilson knew Phil Spector was trying to freak him out through the media and the message therein*, it has become clear to me that Louie C K is trying to fuck with me.

Goddammit. Goddammit. Goddammit.

* From the Wikipedia: Beach Boys co-founder Brian Wilson saw the movie Seconds (Frankenheimer) during its initial release, between sessions for Smile. Under the influence of drugs, the early stages of schizotypal behavior, and pressure to complete Smile, Wilson found Seconds an especially intense experience, that affected him personally (beginning with his arriving late; the first dialogue he heard onscreen was “Come in, Mr. Wilson”, taking him by surprise). His state of mind shifted over the next months, between fantasies of escaping his own life in a similar way, and thoughts that perhaps rival producer Phil Spectorhad somehow convinced Columbia Pictures (sic) to make the movie “to mess with my mind”. Wilson later abandoned the Smile sessions, and did not see another movie in a theater until E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial in 1982. His experience was later recounted in The Beach Boys by Byron Preiss, Look! Listen! Vibrate! Smile! by Domenic Priore, and Wilson’s own Wouldn’t It Be Nice: My Own Story (written with Todd Gold).

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