Anthem.

{ November 10, 2008 @ 12:53 am } · { Uncategorized }
{ Tags: breakups }

 Dear Hollywood Machine,

It is time I wrote this letter to you.

The words have been bubbling beneath my skin for a very long time.

I think we have to break up. Wait- no, we must break up. And yes, it won’t be easy… although I have already began taking the first small steps of an otherwise long journey to make it to where I have almost completely forgotten about you.

I’m not reading the gossip columns, the tabloids or even the newspapers. I could care less what and where the stars eat, what the latest diet trend is or which attention-starved celebutard has made a new sex tape. It becomes clearer and clearer to me each day that you have almost successfully completed the brainwashing you initially set out to do.

Your heinous crime? Molding and luring the glassy eyed sheeple to your knees, looking piously up to you so that they may know what to do next. And yes, you almost had me in that same lump of gullible boot lickers…

but not anymore.

You have found a gold mine in exploiting all that is temporary, all that is salacious and all that is cynical. Somewhere, some fake-bake, veneer sporting Hollywood schmuck must be laughing his butt off as we pay our hard earned $12 (gasp- it takes some of us an HOUR to make that!) and spend it on a crappy movie that doesn’t do much of anything for you. The kind of movie in which the chaste heroine always has to make her self over to be the center of attention and loved, or to get the boy of her dreams. No movie ever really ended where the nerd was still the nerd in the end, right? Normally she has to have a makeover reminiscent of a Bratz doll to garner any positive feedback.

Hollywood,  I’m tired of the way you attempt to mock and sneer at the conservative values millions of Americans hold dear. I’m offended that people pay money to go see a concert and have to listen to some overpaid, out of touch, coke-snorting jerk as they spout off all the reasons why they hate and abhor a country that has given them so much. They sure do love that green though, don’t they? (And no, I don’t just mean the Mary Jane, either.) 

I am disgusted at the way you influence the youth of this nation. I cringe when I hear young girls fret because they don’t have the latest bag or the newest $150 shoes. I want to hide in embarrassment as I see shows like The Hills splayed across television, and all the young people aspire to be such vapid carbon copies of one another. Creativity, individualism and heart are things that won’t be on sale at Abercrombie and Fitch this week, sheeple. Sorry. 

You play on people’s insecurities and their emotions. You beg, you plead, you cajole until your demand has been met. You influence women that plant poison is what their faces need to be beautiful. Even a laugh line is something to be repulsed by, right? You drive men’s egos into the ground by inundating them with messages that they could never be satisfying enough for their partner without some pill (that I might add is almost always complete with some cheesy and incorrect spelling). You hawk your wares not out of necessity, but out of downright manipulation. Hollywood, I have seen you sidle up to some of the biggest names- only to drop them like a bad habit if they utter one word that may be  interpreted as somehow being in touch with us, the bourgeoisie. You gleefully clap your hands as starlets have meltdowns, marriages are broken and children are swept up into Child Protective Services.

You have no conscience, no class and no respect. 

You trivialize those of us with values, morals and some self-respect. 

This is why it’s over. 

You add nothing to my life, and I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to see the writing on the wall. 

Signed,

A Former Sheeple