May a Meteor End Me

50 Shades of Grey.
Fast & Furious 6.
LeBron James.

May a meteor end me.

These are our heroes, folks.  These are our number ones.  In our scatterbrained society where attention is the most valuable commodity, we have anointed and blessed the wealth of our fortunes upon poorly authored fan-fiction literaporn, Vin’s vroom, and a man who wears eyeglasses without the lenses during nationally televised interviews.

Who…the hell…wears glasses with NO LENSES?  Hey Cinderella, before you attend the ball, strap on this carpenter’s utility belt without the tools. It’s fashion forward.  Now hurry.  Yo pumpkin be honking.

Do people wear laces without the shoes?  Did Geppetto wax Pinocchio’s wood?  Does anyone in the history of all human civilization enjoy eating the bottom half of a muffin?  Some things are just wrong.

Life teaches one truth.  A freshly baked cheese filling is magma in the mouth.

I preach one view.  A handful of conglomerations control all of our options.  Companies are not meant to reign, but rather to provide what the populous demands.  Knowing that massive corporations produce for the lowest common denominator, why do we set the bar by our low feet and not our high heads?  Stop the race to the bottom.

In recent years, almost every big studio film has been an apocalyptic story.  It’s either a dystopian future, or a running cataclysm of hail, fire, and zombies.  The world ends…again, and again.  Hollywood lazily machines out the same movies because it’s an easy cash grab.  Creators no longer respect the audience.

Guilty pleasures should be singular and fleeting.  We have been loose with our attention and money, so our heroes have made fools of us.

Set your standards high.  Fortunes and praise should represent the complex sophistication of our culture.  Be learned and respected.  Let’s return to admiring skill, labor, and refinement.

I’m not commanding you should never indulge in charming atrocities — I merely ask you to feel shame when you do.  Enjoy, but remember to support work done well with purpose.

Hunt.  Refuse to be fed.  Seek, discover, discuss, and share your identifying slice in the spectrum of art.  There’s no interest in relating to those with no surprises.  Comb through variety.  Cater, and introduce others, to the beauty of your own unique tastes because Anna Kendrick is MY celebrity soulmate and thy siren deserves the desperate longing of only one pathetic creep.  1-2-3, first.  I called it.