I’d like to think I’m above all the bull shit pretense which is inevitably part and parcel of being a human being. And what I mean by that statement is…we don’t just clothe ourselves to keep warm and/or protect our privates. We dress up to attract mates or simply to impress and/or intimidate our rivals. We don’t just drive a dependable vehicle. We select one that will attract the attention of a prospective sex partner. We don’t just cut our hair and beard to keep it out of our eyes and lice-free. It’s all about impressing other human beings. The truth is that I’m as full of shit as the rest of the world. Well maybe not as…but close.
So where am I going with this? Oh yeah! I’m trying to illustrate I’m as shallow as the next guy (or girl). Just an hour or so ago, I discovered that VH1 is presenting a FLAVOR OF LOVE marathon. If you missed this train wreck of a reality show, it’s all about several chickadees (all hood rat types of varying races) competing for the adoration of Flavor Flav, famous (or infamous) rapper from the group PUBLIC ENEMY.
The girls are all young, attractive, and mostly of the whorish bent. Somehow, I knew that eventually, one of them would appear on my New York escort landscape. And of course, one did. Not only did she work for a madam for whom I ran many ads…but I had the pleasure (so to speak) on two occasions. And here comes the Shallow Bill part.
I really only knew this girl in passing. She was a blog fan and we had fun in the room. But that’s about the size of it. Yet I found myself involuntarily DVRing hours and hours of the show just so I can check out the segments in which she appears. After setting everything up, I wondered about the motivation behind what I’d just done. Why the fuck would I want to watch that crap all over again – especially when I know what’s coming? Is it a need to be one degree away from fame? Or an attempt to relive the carnal bliss I experienced with one of those Flavor Flav chicks?
It’s really hard to say…but easy to recognize what a shallow asshole I am for even wanting to watch this junk again. Or maybe to justify the entire pursuit, I’ll view all this through an anthropological eye – and write it off to human nature rather than my own meaningless existence. Whatever…I can’t wait to see the moment when my old buddy brags to the rest of the girls that she has no gag reflex – implying that if Flav picks her, he’s in for a serious treat! ‘Nuff said. I gotta go feed the homies. I’m out.