A Change of Ocean... If Not of Murderously-Maladapted Mindset
Most of us, I suspect, find it a generally-acceptable bit of fun to be obsessed with something (or, oftentimes, with some one ). With things, it’s easy to get sucked into, say, the quest for the primo Pinot Noir (for what, after all, is an oenophile, if not one who is obsessed with all things wine). Or, maybe it’s the search for the holy grail eyeliner (the one capable of creating that sexy cateye, but which never fades, smudges, or runs), or the precisely-fitting pair of jeans that make your backside look flat-out HOT (and price, by the way, be damned). The most badass motorcycle (complete with exhaust upgrades, custom paint job, and chrome accessories) that money can buy. Or finding a righteous Les Paul—preferably previously-owned by someone who reeks of cool —that feels like it’s just been waiting for you to come along and hold it in your arms. When it’s someone, it seems perfectly natural if the person you’re fascinated by is in the public eye—especially when...