Despite being filled with glamour and beauty, the real Hollywood is of course a cesspool of misery, staffed with neurotic borderline personalities overcompensating for parental disdain and/or abuse and unpopularity in junior high school. (I only write from personal experience.)
Happiness, joy and goodwill are not emotions that actually occur in Hollywood, but having developed sociopathic skills from an early age, most “creative types” have learned to mock the upper register on the emotional spectrum. At least they have learned to put on plausible parodies of happiness that on the big and little screens pass as legitimate stylized versions of the authentic experience; evoking happiness rather than replicating it, so they say.
On closer inspection, the Hollywood “happy ending” rendition of happiness and emotional fulfillment does look rather like a grotesque parody of joy, rather than an actual attempt to manufacture it. But, hey, there’s a sucker born every minute, so whose really keeping score.
Once a year however, on the day dedicated by all mankind to connubial bliss, Hollywood’s resentment bubbles over and they declare war on all mankind, hiding their disgust for human contentment behind thinly veiled attacks on the notion of romantic love.
This year with Valentine’s Day, the movie, Hollywood launched its most naked attack on the holiday yet, painting it in such disjointed, overwrought and unnatural colors that no one who sees the movie will likely ever so much as bestow a card upon a loved one again. If as many people are lured into seeing the film as predicted, America can expect a dramatic fall off in the marriage and birth rates, ultimately hurting our long term stability and making the nation vulnerable to terrorists, or worse.
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The LA Times reports today on the heroic tale of Sharona Alperin, who fought her way up from up from iconic pop muse status, subject of the biggest hit of the new wave era to a moderately successful career in westside real estate.
