Fame is never guaranteed to anyone. It is fleeting, it is with great burden. Most of all, it is very conditional. I am not speaking of Angelina Jolie or Miley Cyrus. My observation is based on a Sports Illustrated model whom I started to like based on her "reaction" to a popular book, even made more popular by Katrina Lumsden's fantastic review. The model was allegedly very funny, very down to earth and very adorable. She happens to also be married to a popular, sweet and nice popular singer. Due to the model's impressive reaction to the pile of dung written by some "she-male" looking broad writing about her unresearched version of BDSM, I started to observe her tweets. Well, surprise of all surprise, I have not glimpsed the alleged very funny, very down to earth, very adorable phenom. All I have read and witnessed was her, verbally abusing, trashing, bullying and getting very comfortable putting down those who were not succumbing to some "sheeple" idolatry of said model. It was fascinating to be an audience of one of the pitfalls of fame, to say the least. The said model's fame has gone to her head and give plus 2 inches on that enormous hollow cavern of a forehead she possesses. Her tweets had become stale and perhaps, soon, her fame will be nil. 15 minutes is up?
I observe, therefore, I am. I am not a sheeple. Namasté.
I observe, therefore, I am. I am not a sheeple. Namasté.