Hi, Sera here. I just spent the last two weeks thinking about how the Internet really sucks ass.
I think it's because I reached saturation about Britney Spears, finally, after all this time. I got to work, did my usual morning round of the gossip blogs, and there was a picture of her, out at night in clothes she hemmed with a pair of cuticle scissors, wig askew, gum lodged in the edge of her maniacal laugh. And I had this sudden moment of clarity: that young woman is seriously mentally ill.
I mean, here's a thought exercise: Think of a dear friend or family member, someone you adore. Got it? OK, now picture that person engaging in all the same droolingly oblivious self-destruction we've seen from Britsay Lospears et al. Horrific, right? Now imagine that your dear one's every intoxicated misstep is chronicled everywhere for the amusement of the general public, with whole industries springing up based on poking fun of said beloved person as he/she swirls down the drain.
Some among you might wonder what took me so long. Others might be shaking their heads, thinking, "That Sera, what a goodhearted sucker. Brit's just drunk and acting out."
Whatever: two Jews, three opinions. I'm just saying that, as someone who has never met Britney Spears, is not a mental health professional, and is in no other way qualified to make this assessment, I believe the chickie has biopolar disorder. She has that look about her. I've seen people having that kind of episode. They tend to do a lot of drugs and shave their heads and stuff.
And when I realized that without serious help the only people fucked-er than Brit are her kids, the whole enjoyment-of-trash-blogs went sour for me. Not that I stopped looking. I just felt nauseous and unsatisfied while I smoked my fix of Perez-- who, by the way, logged something like 8 million hits the day Lindsay got arrested.
Let's not mince words: I'm in the fix-it cycle of tabloid addiction. The highs aren't fun anymore, because I'm having them at the expense of people who are actually in serious trouble. For a long time, I was cool with that, because they're driving drunk in fabulous clothes surrounded by a hilarious entourage. But now, I'm going back to a well that's run toxic.
I thought about this here blog. How it's so much easier for me to discuss Amy Winehouse's jailhouse tattoos, dime-sized pupils, nickel-sized ass and white-hot death wish than pick a new Jew topic of substance to write about. I mean, Amy's Hebraic, but she's not exactly an example plucked from from the median average of our people. And, oh, how I'd rather discuss deeply non-Chosen preacher's daughter Ashlee Simpson's surgery than the kerfuckety Middle East clusterbang going on even now. And I though, well, I suppose I'm part of the problem. Might as well throw in the proverbial blogging towel.
Then, while clicking vaguely from celebretard site to celebretard site on my embarrassingly long list of Bookmarked Fave Sites That Prove My Liberal Arts Education Was For Naught, I accidentally clicked postsecret. I played the little video below, and I rememebered that the Internet, when used for good, has as-yet-unmeasured power.
So, enjoy the vid, ruminate about how alike all us weird weird weird odd strange Jews and non-Jews are, and check back in soon. We've got a thing or two to say about the fucktard anti-Semites on Big Brother 8.