Everything's fine. Did you notice the comma placement? It's a list of things I did. I didn't go to the hospital because I felt so badly, I felt so badly then went to the hospital because I had a scheduled appointment. If I did manage to sucker you here on the pretence of my deceptive comma, it touches me to know that you care. If I didn't, then what the hell is wrong with you?! Don't you care?
As for the reason, I'm a writer. I am obligated to come up with unique and effective ways of gaining and maintaining your attention. Now, onto the main attraction. This is going to take some time. Shall we begin?
Ahem.
Courtney Love has made many poor life decisions throughout her existence with us here on earth. First on this list would be the murder of Kurt Cobain, if this is actually true. We don't know. I don't know. I've moved on. It's not what I'm here to say.
If this is not true, then this would count as her poorest life decision. What I'm about to tell you will cause you so much internal discomfort that your mom will be deeply provoked to go kick Courtney Love's ass.
You see, apparently there's this massive Hollywood production that's coming out at some point in the future that is to serve as the definitive movie about Kurt Cobain. You might think, well doesn't this kind of go against what Kurt might have stood for? It gets better.
Do you know who Courtney Love chose to play the role of a young Kurt Cobain?
Justin Mother Fucking Bieber!!
At this point, it will be beneficial for me to employ the 'I feel' method for two reasons. One: the things I am about to publish online are possibly going to be fraught with backlash. Lawsuits concerning threats, lawyer bills, jail time and general self-discomfort. Two: Therapy.
I am not usually an angry man unless I have had a girlfriend for more than six months. I am not usually a fighting man unless you fill me full of copious amounts of certain drugs. I am single, and I am clean.
I feel angry. I feel like fighting.
I feel like jamming a high E string into this JB's eye, and randomly poking his brain multiple times to see if his arms or legs twitch or says things that don't make sense!
I feel like putting the cheapest, ugliest dress I can find on him (can probably borrow one from his new best friend Courtney Love). I feel like driving him down to New York, and dropping him off on the corner with the rest of two dollar hookers!
Do you know what this is like?! Do you understand what this is equivalent to?! This is just like making a 30 million dollar production about Jimi Hendrix and giving the role to a left handed white guy!
It's bad enough that I have to be forced to live against my will in a world where Bieber is (got scars to prove it), but he, his record label and enough cash that would fill Pablo Escobar's place that he stored extra, 'just-in-case' Cocaine felt the need to strike a single handed blow to the legacy of, my hero, a musician who supposedly shot himself in the face because he thought his corporate status forced his music to become as cold and empty as his body eventually did.
Phew. I actually feel a bit better.
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