It was the cruel handlers who stuffed his jittering arms into a tuxedo jacket and pushed him, blinking and afraid, into the infernal glare of limelight that I took a swat at. If anybody disrespected the Great Man, it was THEM . The slandering of icons is a sport, an exercise, not an act of aggression or bitterness. You and your grand talents are so bright that you are light years above us poor sucking hacks. To this I say Bosh.
Fame is a perverse deformity, an ego-swelling as ludicrous as an extra sex organ.
These people lead lives of choice and ease, surrounding themselves with people of like mind who rarely if ever speak against them. Their days are a parade of constant fluffing and stroking and free stuff from small shop owners and beautiful photographs and roses and the Love of people they don't know. This isn't anybody's LIFE . Life is everybody's personal untrained hammerhead shark, full of emotional whiplash and thwacking spinal spasms, heavy and full of threat and wild, uncivil grace. Nobody is attacking anybody's LIFE , here.