Via Radar Online
OK, now that the immediate crisis in Boston is passing (help if you can!), it’s time to take the Patented Fandom Lenses Overanalysis down a few notches and ramble on about the recent kerfluffle over the following guest book entry made by Justin Beiber in the Guest book at the Anne Frank house . The comment in question, for anyone who has been hiding under a rock and missed it:
Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a Belieber.
As you can imagine, Mass Snark Ensued, to the point that my darling (and sensibly oblivious to most pop culture Drama not involving comics or science fiction) husband Kevin managed to hear about the drama yesterday morning as he sipped his coffee. The following IM conversation ensued (with some links added and typos removed):
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If you live in the Boston area and want to help, wait for the authorities to get the situation under control, then pay attention to the news and/or follow this link. If you’re still looking for loved ones, follow this link. The best advice is to keep your friend’s phone line free so that they can call, text, or email you as soon as they can connect with the outside world. According to some sources the cell network in Boston is temporarily offline as a precaution against other remote detonations, so be patient and Don’t Panic (always good advice).
If you want to pitch in from outside Boston, Here’s the website to donate the American Red Cross. Alternately you can text REDCROSS to 90999 to add $10 to your next phone bill. Cash/Credit card donation to a reputable organization is usually the most effective way to help. Chip in a few bucks and/or a pint of blood, and reblog this on the social media platform of your choice. I want to see my Tumblr Dash and my twitter feed FULL of this and similar posts, people.
(And here I was intending to blog my husband’s and my IM convo about Justin Bieber and Anne Frank tonight…I think it’ll keep a day.)
Ok, it’s time for a wonderful head scratcher of a puzzle. Which of the following should count as the best concert of my life?
A: Sitting in the second row center, holding the love of my life’s hand while one of “our songs” is played by a man I intended to marry when I was ten, and who then played a request in honor of a dearly departed friend;
B: sitting in the 4th row between two of the best friends I have ever had, listening to the group that brought us together (all of whom I intended to marry when I was ten) play a show that I had dreamed of since before puberty while simultaneously knowing it was all but impossible; or
C: standing 10 feet tops from one of the top 5 artistic influences of my late teens and early 20s (who I, yes, intended to marry when I was ten but the aesthetic relationship deepened substantially the year I read the early Neftoon Zamora drafts and Martin Heidegger simultaneously) as he gave one of the most beautiful concerts/storytelling sessions it has ever been my privilege to witness?
The answer is…
D: Never mind. That alleged story problem suddenly strikes me as more of a weird Fandom Koan anyway. What I AM gonna do is share my impressions of concert C (as well as my blurry iphone pics of the same), which will hopefully be a little more coherent than my moderately stunned reflection on Concert A, and more, er, concise than the Proustian geeksquee review of Concert B. (I have always wanted to use the phrase “Proustian geeksquee” in a sentence but never realized it until this moment…)
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