Crisis of faith: fly, fat-ass, fly?

In the 10 years I’ve loved and stuck by Kevin Smith, there is nothing I can say in his defense right now.

“Luckily I don’t embarrass easily”, says 1 of his 1,000,000,000,000 tweet stream. This is something to flush fuschia over though, and not so much over the fact that the victim of weightism was recently booted off a Southwestern Airlines plane for posing as a “health hazard”..

Silent Bob just wasn’t so fucking silent about the whole debacle, nay, he was a straight-up whiny bitch. And as a long-time fan who thought she understood Kevin Smith through and through, who thought that aside from ripping farts and distastefully Mayer-bragging about his wife’s hooha all the livelong day, I’m vexed and completely mystified by his prima donna reaction, one that was void of class and was completely unpolished.

Granted, I’ve abused Twitter here and there, because sometimes describing the boring commute to work takes up to 280 characters. But shit guy, if you’re going to write diatribes that spread over 10-20 tweets, blog the fucking thing– which Smith absolutely did. But apparently, this hardly proved to be any sort of release for him, as he shortly after took to SModcast to regale everyone with the whole Jenny Craig sob story again.

Moreover, the one route he took for at least SOME of his comeuppance over SWA was the route that has continually proven to be absolutely futile and just laughable: flaming somebody online. He unyieldingly humiliated SWA via Twitter until he was blue in the face (cue the 1,000,000,000,000 tweet stream). The patheticness of this being nothing short of a basement nerd trying to spark a flame war with George Lucas for Episodes 1-3.

I’M flushing fuschia here.

This is a whole other world of ‘milking it’. Yeah, SWA treated him unfairly and fighting these things tooth and nail is Smith’s M.O. when his body size or the quality of his films are challenged. But Smith is going beyond the behaviour of the diva golgathan here (diva golgathan composed of: Beyoncé’s thunder thighs; JLo’s back junk; Mariah Carey’s hairsplitting voice; and Madonna’s X-Men-comic arms) –and treating this in the worst way possible, when he could’ve so eloquently written a letter to SWA saying they were weightist shitheads and asked for a voucher. To me, it seemed like the situation could’ve been such an open-and-shut case, and instead he decided to make a Kevin Smith out of a molehill.

Within the same breath of bellyaching about SWA fucking him over, he’s trying to legitimize his weight, which he’s become agonizingly complacent about. He’s summoning his fan base for support, which puts them in an uncomfortable position– everyone awkwardly tugging at their collars because they don’t really know how to support their leader who may be wrong for once. HOW do you begin to defend a fat guy who’s so fat that he’s been flat-out diagnosed with morbid obesity? You reach a point where you run out of forgiveness– that’s your fucking health, guy!

For the first time EVER, I can’t defend Kevin Smith, and I’ve defended him through EVERYTHING.

This is my crisis of faith and I’m reevaluating my God Buddha.

Your friendly neighbourhood,

special k.


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