Oh internet, you have broken what was left of my scarred, charred little heart.
Christopher Walken's Twitter was, in fact, not Christopher Walken's Twitter. There was a part of me that had assumed as much, but dammit, it was so witty and sly ... I didn't really care. Sort of like knowing from the pale band of skin on a tanned finger that the cute guy you met in the hotel bar has a wife back home.
But now, Internet, you've taken it all away. Because apparently fraud rules are more important than my heart's true joy.
No more Lucinda Williams dedications for you, fake disappeared Christopher Walken. You've left me cold and disillusioned. You snuck out before the first flicker of dawn, leaving me to my staggering mini-bar tab, shameface and possibly something itchy.
I wonder how you live with yourself. I wonder, but there isn't enough left of me to care.