I've written a little about criticism here in the past. I've experienced kidney punch criticism about my writing, looks, folk singing, and social views. I've definitely cried about it, and have even been paid to flip the table and provide criticism. But this clip documents a critical "Perfect Storm," a cloud of hot air, negative feedback, rage, and bizarre neurosis whirling like typhoon from the mouth of one sad NYU film student. He is explosive. Hypnotic. A mix between John Simon, Ann Coulter, and The Penguin.
If you missed this one, it features a man driven to literal madness by the thoughtless practicing of a trumpet player in a public alcove. It's hilariously heartbreaking, because even as you choose which man to side with, there's no getting around how broken the critic has to feel inside in order to unleash that kind of seething spittle.
For those of you slammed and critiqued in the past: see? It happens to everyone! To aspiring critics: this. is. not. how. to. do. it.
At the end of the day, aren't we all looking for some acknowledgement that we stood near Bob Dylan that one time?
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