Gabba Gabba – hey…


I have a story running around in my head. It’s not a super-original concept, but I think I could have fun with it. It’s the story of someone who is unable to sustain a normal human relationship because they’re obsessed with a dead punk rocker…hmm…like Joey Ramone, Lynne? Why yes, if you insist. Let’s say, like Joey Ramone.

I think we all know how I feel about Joey. Now, I’m not obsessed with him to the point of distraction – but what if I WAS? How would that be? That’s the gist of it. How would an unhealthy obsession with a dead person affect your real life relationships? What if you were SO obsessed that you wanted to end your life to be with a dead person, or if you idealized them to such an extent that no mere mortal could ever match up, so you suffered countless disappointments? Is this a story of someone who is sane and fully aware that the icon is not alive, or someone who thinks they are actually in contact with them? And how does it end? Could death be a happy ending, for someone with an unhealthy obsession? If you truly believe something, is it true, even if it’s only true to you? Where does that leave religious faith (my definition of faith being belief without empirical proof)?

And if you think that’s all just crazy talk, I’ve got three words for you – Kim Jong Il.

I know, it’s probably been done “to death”. But really, how many plots are there? And it’s been done, for sure, but not by me.

And yes, I know Joey’s dead. No, he doesn’t talk to me. It’s fiction, people. It’s “what-ifs”.

And now, I have to go listen to some Ramones.

Namaste, Joey.

What? What?

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