This book should’ve been called James Dean Revisited… Again. I just don’t know about James Dean. I mean I like his look and to a lesser extent, his whole tormented, misunderstood misfit schtick. Fine. I get that he’s hot when you’re 16 and angsty and forcing yourself to watch the requisite ‘films’ - not ‘movies’ get it? - and of course you have the A1 size sepia-toned poster of his giant brooding head above your bed… But I just hate how he’s been cheaped by young Hollywood actors (and I say actors in the totally sarcastic way I’d describe overacting thespians). He is to a guy like James Franco what Marilyn Monroe is to someone like Drew Barrymore or this deluded asshole. It’s all too obvious and boring - these people need to get some new material!
Ugh! Anyway, I justified this purchase with the below photograph:
What is she holding in her hand? A chicken head!