RIP Kurt Cobain

Somehow I do this every year: I block out the fact that Kurt Cobain died on my birthday. Probably because that's a weird, sad thing. What a sad, damaged person, what amazing music he made, and how many lives he touched, almost unwillingly. But he is certainly illustrative of my theory that it takes damaged people to make good art. Very very few calm, centered, content people create provocative things of beauty.

Anyway. I am a big fan, and not only because he has the best name in the universe. :)

ADDENDUM: Should have said I'm a big fan, despite his terrible taste in stupid, fat, murderous, fame-whore cunts. Proof there is no god: Kurt Cobain is dead and that sloppy-ass reality-show refugee still lives off his money.

ADDENDUM 2: Wow, Kurt. (Me, not Cobain.) Cranky much? I didn't sleep well last night and I wore myself out yesterday working out and running, so I may be a little under the weather today. Which may have led to a slightly more robust terminology when I was posting this earlier.

I perhaps should not have used the 'C' word to describe a woman, even a woman like Courtney Love. I just find her so completely bereft of any humanity or value of her own, so utterly empty and awful that I find it hard not to refer to her in the vilest of terms. In truth she is the blueprint for our modern scourge of fame-whores, people with no talent but only a goal of achieving even the cheapest and most empty fame, no matter who or what they have to do to get it.