I'm at an age where I don't need to suffer fools gladly, or any other way. In many respects, I've retired from my chosen avocation, irresistible force to pursue the more sedentary pleasures of being the immovable object. I spent decades on the fringes of the rock and roll circus (I'd called shotgun in the clown car) which affords me a somewhat different perspective when watching the antics of the Hollyweird and Those Who Would Be Them.
I fell across a story about Chris Brown, a bully who beats women, or in this case striking his then-girlfriend Rihanna, who threw a hissy fit when Robin Roberts asked him about his life and times (and Rihanna) recently on Good Morning America, instead of shilling for his new album.
Not sure which title I enjoy more, "Forgive All My Enemies" or "Fans Are My Everything" to hear Chris tell it. My own imagination immediately latched on to a shortening of fire-truck (but as a gerund), and went downhill after that but I'm sure we have some lovely consolation prizes for such a talented and tattooed young man.
The whole 'here's what we want to talk about' fact sheet is such an established part of traditional show business and press agentry from the days of the studio player when Talkies ruled the earth. I've got to tell you, it's refreshing to me, as someone who last waded into rock and roll waters almost two decades ago (as those fact sheets started to surface), to see that even in disparate pursuits such as urban music, or as I like to call it, (c)rap, the softball question cheat sheet has emerged victorious.
That Robin Roberts, cancer survivor and (I've never met her) a seemingly classy lady could resist the temptation to whack Missy Chrissy with her stool and, instead, went straight at him (not that he'll admit it, but she did talk about his 'new album') to address various aspects of his life and career (that his audience, unless they are morons, must know already), I find very admirable.
Maybe because I don't have the physique for it myself, I've never understood how people assault one another or, in this case, how one person chooses to stay with someone who did this to her, repeatedly. I so hoped Ms. Roberts would bring Chris' ex in via satellite to address that obvious question, but you can't have everything. Perhaps when Rihanna is hawking her new LP (called, I believe, "A Hair Color NOT Found in Nature"). Here's hoping.
"Here we go again. It's so insane, 'cause when it's going good, it's going great. I'm Superman with the wind in his bag. She's Lois Lane. But when it's bad, it's awful; I feel so ashamed. I snap. Who's that dude? I don't even know his name. I laid hands on her. I'll never stoop so low again; I guess I don't know my own strength." But you can bet she does, Chris, and if she didn't, she sure as hell learned by now, didn't she? But it's okay, keep telling yourself it's all in the past because I love the way you lie.