Thursday, April 2, 2009
The post in which I discuss how much I hate Vincent Gallo
I hate Vincent Gallo. It used to bother me because I don't want to hate anyone but after careful consideration I decided Vincent Gallo was okay... to hate.
I was walking down the street with my sister when we happened upon ol' ratty rat face’s awful visage at a bus stop. There he was, glaring at me all hawkish from a recent modeling gig.
"I hate Vincent Gallo," I bit.
"Who’s that?" My sister asked.
I’m sure she's seen Buffalo 66 because we have shared conversations about the days when Christina Ricci was attractive. She may have even seen the gloriously awful Brown Bunny from which I ripped off all the promotional materials not nailed down to the theatre in an act of embittered stealth and pedaled online to the tune on $75 a pop. I know I told her about that so I think it stands as a testament to this man’s mediocrity and talent-less-ness that she blanked. I let her remain blank.
"If you don’t know, I don’t want to tell you," I replied. "I wouldn’t want to ruin your day."
It is indeed a burden to remember Vincent Gallo exists. But it definitely isn’t as much of a burden as it is to tell someone else that Vincent Gallo exists. I can’t imagine what it would be like to try to tell it to a child. I bet no matter how you tried they just scream and cry.
"Lil Suzie. There’s a man. He lives in New York. He has a little mustache and he has made some very very bad movies."
They’d probably be crying by the mustache part, but you’d still have to tell them, "He also makes music. The music is worse. And some bad people keep putting him up on billboards at bus stops as a model. His modeling is very bad. His voice is very nasally and high."
If you told them about the part where he’ll inseminate you for money they’d probably barf. And if you talked about the sending in a photo so he’d consider doing the job himself it would probably kill them. Vincent Gallo kills children.
Talking about him is no easy matter. After I made these drawings I had to make a really freestyle emotional piece to keep me from repressing any horror. It has to do a lot with my personal belief that Vincent Gallo is very likely one of the causes of nine eleven. T'aint hardly no nothing they both were in New York. Fool me twice, shame on me.
I used to have a boss whose voice was like that of a cross between Vincent Gallo and Quentin Tarantino. He also made very bad movies. It was a rough period in my life but I came out of it stronger I think. Or, well, no one should have to go through that. Sometimes me and war torn refugees pass on the street and share that silent nod of shared experience. I guess it's important to try to understand.