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Invasive Species

I Do Not Want You (She's So Horrid)

Invasive Species

The Mighty Firbank (and Myself)
Name
Yuri Hospodar

I Do Not Want You (She's So Horrid)

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Lennonism
As a massive and unrepentant Beatles fan, there is very little I wouldn't do to get hold of & watch new footage, interviews, insights into that greatest height of the Heroic Age Of Rock And Roll. Many are the cheapo dvds that litter the shelves of the dacha, viewed once and then forgotten, bought in the hopes that this five-second clip will reveal something mindshatteringly new (or at least trivially cool & memorable).

Watching Love Is All You Need, a Lennon doco & collection of interviews with all sorts of folks & all sorts of footage & soundbites (including some very interesting & lengthy chats with Cynthia Lennon), however, I discovered my limit. I will not, can not, watch a millisecond of Doomed Attention Whore Camille Paglia.

I have never found any value in anything Paglia's ever said, no matter how many times I tried back when she was the Hip And With-It Go-To Academician For Allegedly-Pithy Quotes from the 80s on for a while. I eventually gave up, figuring she was an elaborate hoax ("no, really, Yuri - keep stepping in dog shit, sooner or later you'll squish down and find a diamond in a pile of it somewhere").

And then when, after the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard, she belched forth her bid to grab some of the spotlight by writing an essay called "Asking For It" (and yes, it was exactly what the title hints at), I decided the only quote I ever want to hear from her is "I have developed the most slow and painful sort of disease known to humankind and will soon be rendered silent except for a few long months of clawing at the air & screaming in thermonuclear agony as my body rots from within to eventually mirror my soul."

So when, in the midst of an otherwise enjoyable Lennonfest, Piglia pops up clawing for cameratime with her usual socially-perceptive daringness, being so irreverent and edgy as to say "Yoko ruined everything" (gasp! shock! oh, Camiiiille!), I hit fast forward. When her hideous punch-me-please visage showed up again, with a snarl of galactic hate I got to the remote and managed to skim past her before a single word dribbled out of her pinched little famehungry mouth.

Perhaps tense vigilance for the resurfacing of this mindless camera-seeking annelid wearied me; I was too tired to finish the doco. There is still some time awaiting me before the dvd player. Should Ms Please Die Now defile my screen yet again, I will be waiting with the remote. And my iTunes full of Yoko to play afterward, which will play triumphantly again when the world's most fraudulent academic short of anyone teaching at Bob Jones University dies.
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