Eyes Wide Shut
Sorry, Katy, for blocking your fabulous self. Your costume is, uh, amazing dahling.
I've always said when darkness descends, find the light. Play music during a storm, dance while orange men try to destroy the planet. It's a big finger to chaos and hopelessness.
And yet... getting constant unwanted news about the fabulous people walking about, trying to outdo each other in weirdness, might be where I say, what the fuck is wrong with you people!? People cannot put food on the table, yet these people are paying $100,000 to be seen. They grovel at the feet of the Ice princess, Anna Wintour, who decides who is worthy to be a part of this sickening display of wealth and entitlement. I wasn't really surprised by who showed up. With the exception of one, they seem to be shallow, empty husks who breathe on the adulation of their adoring fans, mostly young, gullible children who haven't yet figured out these people are not real anymore. They are a brand. I was disappointed to see Bad Bunny there, otherwise, it was the same old creepy crowd of fifteen minute nobodies.
I'm all for art. It's my life. I've drawn and painted ever since I could hold a crayon. The arts are crucial to our existence. The Met Gala is a good cause run by superficial asshats who care nothing about preserving art and more concerned with being seen, giant plastic boobage and all. It's just getting vulgar and gross. There wasn't one single classy act in the bunch. (By the way, Beyonce, your kid needs a time out)
There really isn't much to celebrate right now, and then to have every social media blasting this bacchanal in our faces just seems wrong to me. To have a trophy wife of a clueless and uncaring billionaire run the show just proves how ugly humans have sunk. This year's gala reminded me of a horror movie where the uber rich get together and prey on the poor as they dine on extinct animals.
We need to be better. I suggest we turn off the lights on this sick orgy of excess and debauchery for awhile.

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