I’m in my late thirties and there has been a lot of talk in my ACKCHUAL OFFICE about post-gig comedowns, given the number of concerts on at the moment.
Many of my younger colleagues have been lamenting post-Taylor blues, and while I would rather guide my dad (DEAD) into my mum than go to a TS concert, I politely nod along and refrain from saying that I was spaffed in the face by a 20ft penis on Sunday at a Rammstein concert and I’d do it the duck again because, ya know, I have a vague idea of how to interact with other human beings.
Jack is so inherently performative; it’s like her life isn’t based in any kind of reality. Her time is up, tho, and these flailings are all the more pathetic in that context.