in heart i'm an american idol and i have no guilt
A short-lived but intriguing rumor last week: the (reputedly) impaired Paula Abdul is going to be relieved of her judging commission on Idol and replaced by Courtney Love. (Insert your own joke here. Why aren't arrogance and condescension considered impairments? Paula at least succeeded at the very career the poor Idolators seek--a distinction from her cohosts that Courtney shares.)
The snide suggestion (Keith Olbermann's) was that Ms. Love had generated this rumor herself (own joke again). Go out and buy her book. Like a punkrock Cassandra, she saw all of it coming before the industry imagined anything but its own--now Simon Cowell's--navel. As a girl in notorious Olympia,WA (see "Live Through This") she already grasped Patti Smith.
Here's the latter-day Courtney, the one we don't hear about since rehab: "Rock n Roll nigger is the most superior song in the canon of recorded rock n roll music." (See Dirty Blonde: the Diaries of Courtney Love, p.262. And for a fabulously related Meg Ryan item, flip to p. 227.)
She even saw this blog coming. Here's where we at P4 get ontological: our title came from a Sunday morning idea jam session in October, before the release of her diaries. That's why, like Patti, Love is a genius. Not only does her callused thumb rest exactly on the zeitgeist, but she has the ability to ventriloquize it. She's what you'd call "an artist." More on the song: "There is zero refuge in this song . . . you are transported to a crotch dampening wilderness of pre punk pre post punk pre rock fanzine [sorry, CL, can't make this word out] nonsense "ethos" spouting nonsense . . . " (It makes impeccable suprasense on her page.) She ends this entry "Shine on. Shine on."
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was HOT like me?" The woman with long dark hair who slammed her hands down stageward on the word "hot" in ultimate repudiation of the Idol tryout ritual, and reclamation of her own exhausted dignity, screamed in invisible neon "Patti Lives! Fuck the age requirement!"
"i have not sold myself to god."
Shine on.
The snide suggestion (Keith Olbermann's) was that Ms. Love had generated this rumor herself (own joke again). Go out and buy her book. Like a punkrock Cassandra, she saw all of it coming before the industry imagined anything but its own--now Simon Cowell's--navel. As a girl in notorious Olympia,WA (see "Live Through This") she already grasped Patti Smith.
Here's the latter-day Courtney, the one we don't hear about since rehab: "Rock n Roll nigger is the most superior song in the canon of recorded rock n roll music." (See Dirty Blonde: the Diaries of Courtney Love, p.262. And for a fabulously related Meg Ryan item, flip to p. 227.)
She even saw this blog coming. Here's where we at P4 get ontological: our title came from a Sunday morning idea jam session in October, before the release of her diaries. That's why, like Patti, Love is a genius. Not only does her callused thumb rest exactly on the zeitgeist, but she has the ability to ventriloquize it. She's what you'd call "an artist." More on the song: "There is zero refuge in this song . . . you are transported to a crotch dampening wilderness of pre punk pre post punk pre rock fanzine [sorry, CL, can't make this word out] nonsense "ethos" spouting nonsense . . . " (It makes impeccable suprasense on her page.) She ends this entry "Shine on. Shine on."
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was HOT like me?" The woman with long dark hair who slammed her hands down stageward on the word "hot" in ultimate repudiation of the Idol tryout ritual, and reclamation of her own exhausted dignity, screamed in invisible neon "Patti Lives! Fuck the age requirement!"
"i have not sold myself to god."
Shine on.
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