The day I met David Sedaris

They say that you should never meet your heroes. Of course, for decades there have always been instances where a mere regular person has met someone famous and it’s been a truly inspiring experience, or they’ve failed to meet the expectations of their adulation and the illusion is shattered. The people that are on this level are either famous because of years of laborious work and dedication at their particular craft or field, resulting in critical acclaim. Or whether they’ve lucked out on being at the right place at the right time and are currently enjoying their fifteen minutes of tabloid-trash fame courtesy of a ‘talent’ show, where they’ll be tossed out and replaced by the next charmless fuckwit. Either way, they are more famous than a common mortal and it creates a certain level of class system. Perhaps as a prole, I loathe the class system, especially for those that fall into the latter category, in case that wasn’t already clear. A disembowelling with a rusty hook would be a most welcome ‘news’ story that featured them. Fame, fame, fatal fame.

But, I digress.