My nemesis, Hugh Grant


I hate very few people in this world. Hate is an unproductive emotion, one that destroys the originator rather than the object.

And yet, I hate Hugh Grant with an unholy passion.

voodoodoll.jpgIt has little to do with his acting ability. From what I can tell, he merely flutters his eyelids and says something cute in his fake British accent. I can’t be certain, since I refuse to see any of his movies.

It has everything to do with his tabloid-worthy encounter with hooker Divine Brown. At the time, he was romantically linked with the lovely Elizabeth Hurley. But he done her wrong, and that was enough for me.

She stuck by him for some reason, but my distaste for such a sniveling little man grew from there.

I don’t even know if they’re together any more. I haven’t bothered to find out, and I’m fairly certain that won’t my anti-Hugh Grant stance.

And while you could try to use your puny Earth logic on me, I’ll have none of it. Hugh Grant must pay.

He has done nothing personally to me. He knows not of my existence. He likely lives a fulfilling life, professionally, materially and so on. Hugh Grant doesn’t hate me or like me or even know me.

But I hate Hugh Grant.

Hatred is something I don’t really understand. I am often puzzled by mean-spirited behavior, directed at me or others. Someone will be mean to me, and I’ll call her out on it. A friend will ask, why do you hate her?

But I don’t. I may dislike her and avoid this person in all social situations. But hate is a waste. This person should know better, but does not. I don’t even pity her.

I simply keep her at arm’s length.

But I hate Hugh Grant.

Like any emotionally based decision, it has no real rhyme or reason. It’s how I feel.

Hatred, meanness, bitchiness, however you want to label it, is all around us, intensifying bigotry and violence across tribes and nations. It is as old as humanity and never going away.

It’s stupid and petty. I reflect on it every so often, trying to understand why people give in to their ugliness.

And then I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and mentally kick Hugh Grant in the nads.


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