Cult

Bee's picture
Tue, 01/04/2011 - 21:00 -- Bee

Traveling back down Gene Autry Way, everything here is familiar and known. Comfortable. Understood. References to public scandals I've never heard about about feel correctly calibrated. I no longer recognise the people in the newspaper, but I get the cadence.

The real puzzle is not the fact that I live in a different country: it is the fact that I am no longer poor. I'm living out the classic story of the country boy seeking his fortune in the big city, but how many of those novels have happy endings?

The music of my youth certainly offers no solace; those artists, like my relatives, indulge in suicidal ideation. I'm far too materialistic and violent to join that cult, so I have switched to the only modern genre that reflects my concerns.

Yes, it is true: I'm driving around Beverly Hills in an SUV and I am sufficiently decadent to enjoy the experience. Though like Dr Dre says, I still got love for the streets.

You have a problem with that? There is a lyric for every occasion. Tupak was the most elegant and eloquent: You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up.

Lesson of the week? Paparazzi are NOT allowed to visit Travel Town.

I am mystified by celebrity culture. I know lots of famous people, and they are notable mainly for being "people."

My personal version of the star tour includes only one sacred destination: