Tampa Bay’s very own spoiltbratblogger Rachel Moran once again amply demonstrates her qualifications for a spell with the nice people at the local ‘residential spa’.
As Lindsay at Majikthise very helpfully points out Moran is writing about the homeless again and, as the lady herself once saw fit to grace us with her exalted presence and we continue to take a proprietary interest, I popped over to take a look.
I do wish I hadn’t.
hey, rick baker! ever heard of a SHELTER?!
Hooooray, guess what I did tonight? Kicked it with a homeless dude, of course, ’cause, you know, you made such a point of it.
I walked out of the Garden, where Sam The Pickles was playing the deep drum-n-bass, makin’, like, two pretty girls shake their ass for fun, before I hit the Brandy’s Liquor Lounge for the real Bon Jovi throwdown, courtesy of The Movie.
What is it with this woman? She seems to think she’s lliving in some kind of picaresque novel with herself as the heroine. She’s sleazing round bars in a provincial backwater, thinks getting drunk and/or high, tooling around in her Mercedes (‘Benz’. Oh dear.) on her Daddy’s money and talking drunken bollocks with her fellow trainee middle-aged lushes isn’t just another dull and tawdry story of a life lived in quiet desperation. Nope, she’s got to justify it to herself as some kind of transgressive, edgy, art experience, just because she’s blogging about it.
That could work in theory: ‘Mary Sue as Patrick Bateman’ hasn’t been tried in blogging yet so far as I know, so at least she’d have novelty value. But even taking it purely as a writing exercise it doesn’t work, not with Moran’s writing it. She’s just so damned incoherent.
I had trouble finding excerpts to feature, because for the life of me I cannot see any point where the whole rambling story hangs together. So one chunk’s as good as any other:
The Snoop Dogg look-alike was out of earshot or had given up by this time. I don’t know. I don’t care.
“What’s your name?” said the guy in the other Benz, in front of the cop.
“Mercedes,” I said and drove away, safely, slowly, thinking about you, and a cop kickin’ it by my car for no reason, and a homeless man that is perfectly sufficient asking you to hand him things.
I got a lot of flack when someone handed me things, so I stopped doing it.
My, oh my, what a difference a year makes.
Your challenge – buy something off a homeless person at an exorbitant rate. Don’t let the transaction take longer than it needs to.
Now pretend you go out and see police at every corner. I know you weren’t there, because the street was empty, except for the Snoop Dogg look-alike who sold me a stoge at a dollar (a 400% markup). Pretend also that you could handle the same transaction as smoothly.
And now tell me I wanna beat people up.
Uh?
I’ve really tried, but I can’t for the life of me find where that particular moral can be drawn from this story. All I can conclude is that Rachel Moran thinks the fact that she didn’t beat a homeless guy up on this particular occasion proves that she doesn’t want to beat people up. This from a former law student? It’s a good job she never graduated, she’d’ve been a liability to the profession.
The one thing that does come across from the post is that Rachel Moran thinks this is an adequate riposte to her critics and they should shut up and butt out.
Butt out? Oh no. She obviously wants attention, so she shouldn’t complain when she gets it.
