My heart goes out to the movie director who had a mental breakdown after critics panned his latest film. The poor fellow was filmed outside his home in San Diego, slapping the ground and making obscene gestures at traffic. The fact that he did it in the nude suggests his behaviour was a cry for help rather than a declaration of aggressive intent. A man who goes on a naked rampage is usually drawing attention to himself rather than calling his enemies to account.
The police identified him as Jason Russell, aged 33. After concluding that he was harmless, they sent him to a hospital for treatment. I’m glad to say that his wife has remained loyal and steadfast throughout the ordeal:
“He did some irrational things brought on by extreme exhaustion and dehydration,” she explained. “Many of the attacks against the film were very personal and Jason took them very hard.”
Let’s hope her sympathy is genuine and she maintains her composure when her husband is discharged from hospital. The last thing Jason needs now is a sardonic spouse who makes satirical remarks while she’s nursing him. A man recovering from a temporary bout of insanity doesn’t want to be reminded that he made a colossal arse of himself whenever he asks for a glass of Lucozade.
The odd thing about this episode is that the film he made, about a Ugandan warlord, was a huge success. It quickly went viral after being released on the internet, which attracted the attention of occupational trolls who cruise cyberspace looking for victims to harass. Poor Jason must be unusually thin-skinned for a movie director. He should have told them to stick raw chillies up their butt-holes. That's what Alfred Hitchcock would have done.
Perhaps Jason would feel better if his film were screened at the Cannes festival. Although I haven’t seen it, I’d be amazed if it got a negative reaction there. Ugandan warlords are the dog’s bollocks for the arty-farty types who attend that event. The other good thing about Cannes is that no one would mind if Jason responded to criticism by performing a naked war dance. It would barely be perceived as eccentric in that part of the world.
Being an artist, of course, means having to endure the barbs of envious guttersnipes. I didn’t get too much of it in my circus career, possibly because my detractors were too scared to make rude remarks about a performer who could hang them upside down by their ankles if he felt inclined.
I have had a couple of blog trolls, though. One, who called himself ‘Anonymous27.5inchcock’, was actually a fellow blogger pretending to be a troll for his own amusement. He soon got bored of his caper and confessed his real identity. I forgave him. The other troll was a monomaniac who left 150 fatuous comments on another blog. Although he subsequently pretended to be a fan of The Japing Ape, I deleted his comments without mercy.
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