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February 16, 2003
Sometimes the obvious bears repetition: Fame has nix, naught, nothing to do with talent; it's merely a measure of ubiquity. So why do we allow all these weightless names and faces to cloud our brains? Why do we ride chips on these irrelevant abstractions? God knows we have enough troubles with the people and things around us. So fuck you, you celebrities. You don't know me. Do your little song and dance and move along. Your desperate ego is fouling my air. Secondhand smoke I can handle, but spare me the secondhand narcissism. Shut up. Go away. I beseech you.