You know what's sad? This: watching a young girl tell millions of strangers just how much her dead father means to her. While her aunt urges her to "speak up" and her grandmother adjusts the mic. As if the expression on her face isn't loud enough.
But of course that expression isn't loud enough--honey, you're standing in a 30thousand seat arena. Sing out, Louise! Put some lip into it. Push from the diaphragm. Sure, you've never spoken to more than 10 people at a time in all your life, but now's your time to shine!
It's not a shallow grave for Michael Jackson. It's a miles-deep grave, decades old. Since we've been digging the grave for a while now, it's only proper we spend some time gaping into it before we shovel in the dirt. See what we accomplished. Call down into it for an echo. Then fill it.
Inappropriate sharing, incomprehensible ramblings, uncalled-for hostility: yup, it's a blog.
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- Sigh. Orly?
- The virtual drive
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