Yep. You read it right. After my post “But You Can Never Leave,” what I thought was a longtime close friend immediately broke contact. This person has a high level of respect for Taylor Swift, much more than for me.
My post earned me silence.
Celebrities are public figures just as politicians or “guest stars” on Cops. All fair game, each and every one of them. If I hate everything Trump does, and have watched as he proved himself to be a nutsack and a bag of extremely small dicks, it doesn’t mean that I hate him. Hate takes too much out of me, leaving whatever good there is left in my soul to the lord of the Abyss.
Lampooning, criticizing, or just plain calling out people’s bullshit is part of our freedom of speech. That, however, doesn’t include hate speech. I haven’t engaged in such when writing about Taylor Swift. Criticism? You bet. Lampooning? Hell yeah! As for her bullshit, I see through it more than ever.
Swift, according to rumor, donates to causes. I don’t know which. Even if I did, I couldn’t prove it. From her stunts in the past, I’d make the guess that it’s disingenuous; she needs to make people like her, to buy tickets, and garner as much attention from paparazzi as possible. She’s always in character, always very fashionable, rarely caught without makeup. She doesn’t hate paparazzi; she eats attention like candy.
I still don’t hate her. And if I did, I would be the only casualty. She wouldn’t care even if she knew who I was.
I lost readers with the Swift posts. I had to close comments because I finally caught on that I would draw fire sooner or later.
But losing friends? I didn’t see that coming.
Turning my back on people isn’t a rare thing. I’ve many times found it a preferable choice for protecting myself from more trauma, rejection, and pain. I don’t do much of that anymore; if I backed off, it was to protect people I loved from witnessing or involvement in my delicate condition, causing the unpredictable. I just didn’t want them hurt. I had caused enough pain. A decent man regrets causing pain; an honorable one fights within himself to stop causing it.
So if I hurt other people by lampooning Swift, understand that it’s not my goal. But excess is disgusting, disgraceful, and self-destructive, and Swift refuses to learn that lesson. It’s too late now; she’s lost. The golf cart shit was a clue. In the end, it’s always about her. She would settle for nothing less. And she will eat Kelce up and spit him out. She’s never truly happy unless she’s got an ex crying over her. She’s got issues. I feel sorry for her as well as those who get hurt by her. She was probably hurt by some guy she looked up to or trusted once. The cycle it caused is not unfamiliar to me. Not even a little bit. But that’s what makes this so hard for me to watch. I know what’s coming.
And don’t hate me too much, please. I’m even more critical of Katy Perry, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Hamas. Oh, Israel is doing some horrible things, too. In war, ain’t nobody clean. It’s genocide and murder and bestiality and torture. It’s disease, famine, and more death. And wars are humanity’s favorite things of all. More cherished than making money, making music, or making love. We’ve been making weapons since prehistory and from clubs to nuclear weapons, we ain’t never stopped. We can’t.
So, in all of this, I lost two good friends. Some readers.
But I tell you one thing: I ain’t lost a bit of sleep. In fact, I’m sleeping better.
Therefore, worth it.
Memoirs of an American Asshole 