Now if only some sharp instrument could be used to amend his poison pen
I don’t generally follow celebrity news because, well, there’s actually important things going on in the world. In my world, that might even mean laundry and trimming toenails. It doesn’t take much to be more important than celebrity news. Now and then, something actually hits my radar. This is one of those moments. Apparently, one Dr. Brandt, “plastic surgeon to the stars,” recently committed suicide.
I never knew you, Dr. Brandt, and, averse as I am to celebrity news, never heard of you. Nevertheless, rest in peace.
I never heard of you until now, that is. A dear friend shared this sensitively written piece posted by her surgeon. Ordinarily, I also couldn’t give two flips about anything that nasty, awful, very bad Piers Morgan has to say, but when he was called out in Dr. Sigal’s piece the way he was, I had to see for myself.
Whether or not Mr. Morgan, whose only claim to fame is to be such an annoying twat that nobody in England wants him back except for the Daily Mail, has anything legitimate to say about the intersection of cosmetic surgery and the vanity of Hollywood, his unseemly remarks on the occasion of a suicide say far more about his character than about anything else at all, really.