Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
Friday, January 07, 2005
Let the National Mourning Begin
Oh dear sweet merciful Jesus, why did this have to happen? I mean, I thought the world had been through enough recently, what with the horrific devastation wrought by the tsunami and the ongoing killings happening daily in Iraq. Surely, we've suffered enough. What kind of deity would then wipe out the one ray of hope in our miserable, meaningless lives? What kind of loving, caring God would let Brad and Jennifer separate?
I have to admit, despite the enormity of the death count in southeast Asia and despite the involvement of our American soldiers in Iraq, I've been able to go on with my day-to-day life, largely because there's always been some sense of distance, y'know? No matter how unthinkable the losses of human life have been, it's been happening in other parts of the world, where I've never even been.
My lord, they were so perfect together. The pictures made them look so perfect. The pictures I saw in Star and InTouch and People and The National Enquirer and US Weekly--dear Christ, especially in poor little US Weekly, what the living, breathing fuck are they are going to do without Brad and Jennifer on their cover every other week? There's only so many Olsen Twins out there. US Weekly went weekly just because they wanted to print more pictures of Brad and Jennifer. Why, Brad and Jennifer's tele-photoed honeymoon put half of the US Weekly staff's kids through college. How are they going to be able to afford to pay for higher education without publishing shots of Brad and Jennifer going into a Whole Foods or Brad and Jennifer arguing on a public beach or Brad and Jennifer in their bed, screaming because a photographer from US Weekly just burst into their bedroom? Fucking celebrities. It's not fair.
And how am I supposed to get through this fucking horror show I call my life? You think marriage has any meaning any more? Pfah! Worthless. Might as well let the gays get married now. Oh, shit, right. That's just become illegal in eleven more states. Well, nevermind.
The point is, I'm now left without hope. Hope that there are beautiful people, people who are ever so much better than me, who can make a marriage work and be incredibly attractive while doing it. Apparently it can't be done.
I guess the only consolation in all of this is that the mainstream press, thank Jaweh, are going to be covering this every bit as much as the tabloids. I'm betting local news teams will be devoting all of the time they normally would have spent chasing down small businessmen who overcharge for aluminum siding to this major event. Probably, they'll go to bars at ten thirty at night and ask drunken morons what they think of it all. And they'll hear slightly more slurred versions of what I've just said, I'm sure.
And they'll stay with the story through it all. Through the separation. Through the hearings to split up the assets. Through the half-assed attempt at reconciliation. Through the awkard moments when they have to be at premiers together. Through the even more awkward period when he briefly goes back to Juliet Lewis and she gets drunk and fucks Collin Ferrell. (Cause they all do, y'know.)
The media will stay with the story and so will we. Because all that other shit going on in the world just doesn't have any sort of actual effect on us. But Brennifer (if I may coin an already outmoded phrase) was family to us. Really good-looking, high-paid family who we didn't know, but whose garbage we felt we had a right to go through.
Now the beauty-party is over. And we have to go home and sleep. Shit.