I remember when I was very little, maybe three or four, my mother said to me, “What am I going to do with you?” I told her she could put me down the garbage chute. I imagined that was where the Sesame Street monsters lived. I thought I could live with them and that’s where I would belong. I also wanted to solve the problem for her.

I suspect many people have a visceral reaction to dog shit, baby shit, and any kind of shit. And pee. That milk carton in the refrigerator. A backed-up toilet, dishwasher or garbage disposal. A restaurant grease trap. Woof, that smell. That is disgust. The revulsion. This was a useful, evolutionary survival mechanism to make sure the cave dweller didn't eat something that will kill the tribe. Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even look at it. This isn't fear, anger or sadness, it's disgust.

...that, in light of how screwed we are in the world with nature finally fighting back and flooding coastal cities in epic fashion, maybe the trials of being Taylor Swift aren't that fucking important.  Methinks she may be Nero fiddling as Rome burns...