I'm posted out. The only material I have in my back-pocket is a long-ass post, and I've just been invited out for drinks, so that shit's going to have to wait through my usual Saturday hiatus till Sunday or whatever.
That said, I've been asking people all day if they know that Nick Carter was molested because of the casting room couch for boy bands, and when I tell them to google "Nick Carter molested New York Post", I don't mention anything about how fat the guy who molested him is, leaving them to be even more repelled by the story. The few people who googled it still had horrified expressions on their faces when I ran into them later, but I figure it's their own impulses punishing them and creating the horror, kind of like that one goldfish-in-a-blender art exhibit from a few years ago (loved it, some of the best modern art I've ever heard of).
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