Unfortunately that is probably the most positive thing I have to say about Recovery. Despite that I'm not what you'd call a "fan," as someone who took the time to listen to both Encore and Relapse I appreciate the apology. It's a rare gift when an artist has the self-awareness to address the overall shittiness of some of their previous work, which comes up frequently on Recovery. In a strange way, you sort of want to root for Eminem. The time you spent caring are precious moments you'll never get back again. You'd be best served by not giving the slightest rats ass about the domestic squabbles of people you've never met. And I'm not going to tell you that J-Lo looking fat in a bikini doesn't validate your life in some way. Does that mean I actually know any more about Elliott Smith? Maybe, but probably not.Īnyway, I still like Chuck Berry, Gary Glitter, Michael Jackson, and Chris Benoit, so there's a reasonably significant chance I'm not the best person to ask. Elliott Smith wrote songs about his life, and Mel fought marauders in a world devoid of gasoline, so I feel like I have a slightly better window into the life of the former. This holds especially true in the case of actors or other celebrities who's work doesn't carry a certain level of intimacy with the audience. Again, my concern is how it may or may not affect the bagging of my groceries. Much in the same sense that the girl who bags my groceries might be a swell young lady who helps the elderly cross the street and volunteers at soup kitchens, or she might dish out sexual favors behind Taco Bell dumpsters for meth. My concern begins and ends with Maverick. Either way, Godspeed (You! Black Emperor) It's not my concern. For all I'm aware, Mel Gibson might be an upstanding guy who's fallen on hard times, or he might be a rampaging lunatic who likes to do blow off of stripper dicks and get choked by trannys to get his rocks off. I'm certainly not defending what I heard, I simply don't protest to know any more about the inner-workings of the mind of Mel Gibson than he knows about mine. Substance abuse problems we've all determined must be present because WE heard twenty minutes of taped phone conversation featuring the drunken star of Maverick.
So we can be exposed to personal phone calls and wring our hands deciding if Mel needs to go to jail for his lady punching or rehab for his substance abuse problems. I think it's become embarrassing stain on our society that we create a job market for this brand of shit-seeking. But honestly, why would I, or anybody else, feel even a gram of emotion over this? Frankly the personal nature of the incident prevents it from even being a meltdown on par with that of Kramer-gate, which, if nothing else, took place publicly, and at people who, outside of maybe being rude, were minding their own business. Truth be told, I think they're both just crumby. Now, I'm not big fan of racism or domestic abuse. Though the time would have been better spent watching Cheers, probably. I guess "racist" has a better ring than "live-in-girlfriend/baby-mama puncher" Not to go all Bill O'Riley-Blame-the-Victim about it, but there's also a fair amount of baiting from the girlfriend, who is fully aware she's taping a very drunk and irate Gibson, to aid old Mel in further digging himself into a hole. Funny, given all that, that the media keyed in on the two rather insignificant racial slurs. (She is someone that does something and I really don't care enough about her to bother looking up her name again.) There was, however, a whole host of death threats, c-bombs, and at least one confession of domestic abuse.
Over the twenty-some minutes of phone conversation, there were, by my count, two racial slurs, neither of which were directed at Gibson's girlfriend who on the other line.
The initial information I was hearing was about Gibson on a "racist rant," so I was expecting something more along the lines of Kramer-gate.
#The young veins take a vacation review series
I take a great deal of pride in my disinterest in the lives of celebrities, but every so often something big enough does come along to peak my interest, and certainly the series of taped phone conversations touted as "the absolute end of Mel Gibson's career" seemed like enough of a blockbuster to draw even me into the slums of the internet tabloid sites.
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