“No, I’m not colorblind. I know the world is black and white. Try to keep an open mind, but I just can’t sleep on this tonight.” ~ from John Mayer’s “Stop This Train”
If you’re late, John Mayer took the lyrics to his song “Say” quite literally to his lips in an interview with Playboy (nsfw). When I finished it, I was confused as to why Mayer spent so much time ranting about John Mayer, and so little time talking about anything else of importance. That’s what troubled me, that he was so narcissistic and borderline sociopathic at spurts.
Not because he proved that skimming key words while avoiding substantive material will cause one to test out at the reading comprehension level of a second grader (He said he knows he doesn’t have a “black” pass, no matter how often he was offered one. That’s it. And, for those who needed it, he apologized). Not because he compared his personal member’s choice to a white supremacist (yeah, it was dumb. And…Rush Limbaugh breathing is way more detrimental to black people). And not because he called my life’s love, Kerry Washington, white-girl crazy (I don’t know what that means. Someone please define this.) and a mastermind of “Heartbreak Warfare.”
He says his struggle might be comparable to one black dude’s…. Yeah, he’s the white Kanye West, more self-absorbed than SpongeBob Squarepants. And this is what sent the Internets atwitter…… Next.
What interests me more is his desire to shape himself as the douchebag that he claims so many see him as with such accuracy. He spoke with candor about everything from his porn addiction to his party-of-one high school jam sessions that led to his fame to his immaculate description of Jessica Simpson’s bedroom performance.
Seriously, I believe he did more for Simpson’s fading star in a matter of 100 words than sex tapes did for either Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian (I’m mad I know how to spell that). There are guys who will replace their bedtime thoughts of their girlfriends, wives and/or beneficial friends with Simpson because of Mayer choice words. And Mayer, he jokingly infers that he’s thought about brokebacking Brad Pitt & Nick Lachey while sleeping with Simpson and Jennifer Aniston, whom he admits to still loving but lampoons as a control freak amid his lust for Simpson.
All this while forcing you to weave through his off-brand humor as he gives a vivid depiction of who he sees himself as and who he wants to be. Suffice it to say I’ve never been this entertained by a celebrity interview. No hyperbole.
It’s strange because we say we want celebs to be straight shooters who give us their uncut thoughts. We don’t like that they often seem as if they were packaged and shipped to us right off a conveyor belt. We want to know who they are. Yet, when one decides to tells us, we flip out because he’s being too honest. But this, this is far better than any 60 minutes of Hilton or Kardashian reality you’ve ever seen and I’ll be damned if you’ll ever get to know who Beyonce even purports Sasha Fierce to be through her words.
This interview isn’t horrific. Sure, it’s nuts. But it’s also enlightening.
This dude decided to give a couple of candid interviews (See: Rolling Stone). Sure, he’s a wordsmith and, for the most part, knew exactly what he was saying. Sure, he manipulated some of what he said (see: Aniston, control freak amid describing Simpson’s freak). Aware of who he is, he chose to paint himself without so much as mirror while letting his unkempt words serve as his brush.
The funniest thing is that at the end of the interview, Mayer says he doesn’t care what people think of him, doesn’t care that people see him as a douchebag. But it’s blatantly obvious through his scotch-induced words that he cares…maybe too much, maybe more than even he understands. He wouldn’t try so hard if he didn’t.
Anyway, it’s fascinating. On some level, most of us are like him, narcissistic at our cores, momentarily unabashed, unashamed of our naked thoughts. We might actually get somewhere if all of us were like this all of the time (It’s how we learn). Though, it should be obvious that somewhere will never be over a post-racial rainbow. You’d have better luck finding a four-leaf clover on the person of the tooth fairy.