Comfort The Condemned
3000 long miles away from the Chateau Marmont and the Beverly Hills Police Department, I have only my spotty telepathic capabilities and my soft spot for Gingers to will positive thoughts to our dearly incarcerated.
Like most arm chair psychologists trained in long talks with friends lacking any modicum of restraint, I have learned to offer advice that is sugar coated and easy to swallow; tough times call for big comforts, and they will not hear what they do not want to. Anything short of enabling usually illicit the sort of “Fuck-you-how-could-you-do-this-to-me-this-is hard-enough-I-thought-you-were-my-friend” rant until enough parents/first loves/soccer coaches step in to collectively steer them towards self-healing.
This light-hearted salsa jam goes out to you, Lindsay, to embrace your fall off the wagon.
July 28th, 2007 at 1:33 pm
Thank you for linking to the eye-opening informational site on Ginger Kids. I know now that their crotches aren’t actually “engulfed in flames”, but are merely blessed with red pubic hair.