How I Learned to Love Diablo Cody

Diablo!

I’ve developed an infatuation with Diablo Cody. I really have. Call it a celebrity crush, but I found myself searching for interviews with her on Google and reading anything even remotely related to her work. And I was once like you. All grimaced and pouty-faced whenever somebody mentioned her name. Trashing “Juno” and bringing up her dialogue in some vain attempt to seem smarter than everybody. I once let hate dictate my feelings toward Diablo Cody. But then I read this article wherein she described the reaction she received from one unnamed gentleman:

“There are some people out there who think that I’m repulsive, that I’m not even human. This guy said, if he had a choice between having sex with me and cutting his dick off, then he’d cut his own dick off. And I was like, first of all I think you’re lying.”

Repulsive, not even human, and castration-inducing. Geez, some writers have all the luck. As mentioned in my previous post, Diablo Derangement Syndrome is real. But to stir that level of contempt from such a large group of people? That’s WWE “heel” level heat right there. And I think it’s absolutely goddamn adorable.

Let’s face it. America is a country that relishes in other people’s shame. As part of our Judeo-Christian heritage, we’re the only people in the modern world capable of building stigmas so thick they keep rape victims and battered wives from testifying against their attackers. Think about that. We shame victims simply for being in the path of some deranged, dickless asshole. Shame is an interesting concept; it relies upon having a fear of being humiliated. So when I see so many angry neck-beards repeating “a fucking stripper” over and over and over I have to wonder whether they’re angry that she was a stripper and became a writer, or if what truly pisses them off is that she’s not humiliated by it.

Diablo With Wings

What I’ve come to realize is that it’s July of 1991 again. Hair bands light up the top 40 with safe entertainment for mass consumption. Mr. Big? Now that’s a group that everyone can enjoy! And while the music industry suffers trying to find the next big thing, it resorts to spectacle, scale, and excess to produce expensive music videos and multi-million dollar arena rock shows. The artists are vision-less, overpaid dinosaurs revelling on a meal ticket they see as lasting forever. And meanwhile, hip-hop is doing no better. Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer provide the foolish illusion that what people want can be dictated based upon careful market research and clever advertising. They know what people will pay to see, so they’ve just invested a few million in the latest MC Hammer video and let Vanilla Ice go and star in his own film.

And then Nirvana catches airplay with “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and Dre releases “Nuthin’ But A G’ Thang” and everybody realizes how fucking terrible everything was that came before. And it happens overnight. Literally overnight. Before anybody even knew what happened. The hair bands suddenly looked silly. The arena shows crashed with small attendance. And everybody was caught in a fucking tailspin allowing new artists to barge in and run wreck shop on the asylum.Diablo

If people don’t know what to make of you they’ll talk about you. And if people are talking about you they’re pretty much under your thumb. And that’s why I’m infatuated with Diablo Cody. She brings gonzo to an industry that is full of planners and marketers and organizers while curmudgeons BAWWWWW because this isn’t the regiment they’re used to. Unplanned isn’t supposed to happen. It doesn’t work that way. Some stripper isn’t supposed to waltz in and snatch an Oscar on her first try. Who the fuck does she think she is? Some garage band isn’t supposed to just hop on the radio and sell millions of records. We spent a whole year primming Sebastian Bach for a solo tour with Warrant!

I, for one, dream of the day when I could be so lucky as to have breakfast with Diablo Cody. It’s kind of like my morning work daydream, just before my noon lunch daydream with that chick from Roxette and my two o’ clock stint where I stare at my computer screen trying to summon 1989 Stacey Q through a wormhole using my mind.

I imagine we could have breakfast at that place in San Diego that makes those unbelievable walnut pancakes… I would put too much syrup on mine. And then Diablo would have some snappy line about too much syrup… like “you danko your panco“… and I would laugh. Because I love it when she does that. And then we’d go to Sea World. Because I love the Sea Otters. And then that lesbian chick from Roxette and I would start a super group. I would rekindle her career, and when she’s standing at the Grammy’s holding up her award for Best Album she’d mouth “Thank you” to me while I gave her a big, heart-felt thumbs up… wait, where am I?

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7 thoughts on “How I Learned to Love Diablo Cody

  1. You left out the real complaint about Diablo, which is she’s a mediocre writer. You are clearly suffering from Codyholm Syndrome.

  2. She isn’t the greatest writer, sure, that’s bad enough. What sucks is that a male dominated movie industry pretty much fell on the floor like nerds presented with a… stripper, and gave her chances that no man or fat chick would have any possibility of getting on the strength of those stories.

    Worse yet are those falling over themselves to deny it. It’s just adding salt to a wound. Why not give Uwe Boll all the props they give Diablo Cody? Because he’s not a sexy young lady with the attraction of the stripper angle. Simple as that. I may be a fellow writer and be happy for her success but I gotta look at the people bending over to praise her and tell them to get a grip and put their tongues back in their head.

    They must be the sort who get totally horny over an old rerun of HBO’s Real Sex.

  3. “Let’s face it. America is a country that relishes in other people’s shame. As part of our Judeo-Christian heritage, we’re the only people in the modern world capable of building stigmas so thick they keep rape victims and battered wives from testifying against their attackers. Think about that. We shame victims simply for being in the path of some deranged, dickless asshole. Shame is an interesting concept; it relies upon having a fear of being humiliated. So when I see so many angry neck-beards repeating “a fucking stripper” over and over and over I have to wonder whether they’re angry that she was a stripper and became a writer, or if what truly pisses them off is that she’s not humiliated by it.”

    ^Yes. That. Ugh.^

    She’s certainly not my favorite of writers, but I can’t stand the tone that so much of the conversation about her takes on. And honestly, she seems like she would be super fun to have a beer with. Not in the least because she has the good sense to respond to some guy saying that he’d rather cut his dick off than have sex with her by pointing out that that’s the most ridiculous bullshit statement ever. Honestly.

  4. It’s got nothing to do with wanting her to feel shame, it’s that the industry is acting like a bunch of horny tools and being baldfaced flat-out false about it.

    It’s galling in that the same industry execs who so often treat writers like a bunch of geeks who couldn’t get laid if they tried and themselves as perfectly well-adjusted business gods are the ones acting like a bunch of tittering twelve-year-olds who just found out the mom and dad didn’t put the parental lock on the nudie channel.

    All that does is draw the attention on her and when you compare her talent to the lavish praise and camera snaps and sound bites they give her, it doesn’t add up. It’s the last thing any writer should want no matter how crackerjack they are.

    Of course, most won’t get it unless they meet the attention-givers’ criteria for being lofted on a pedestal for the moment. In a sick way, this all is setting Cody up for ignominy more than anything else.

    • I think those are all extremely good points. There is something to be said about the media’s true perception of an artist when they pay so much attention to how poorly one piece of their work (like Jennifer’s Body) did; whereas there have been many actors/directors/writers whose work has tanked and nobody batted an eye except to say “Yeah well, it was a tough weekend, the marketing just didn’t connect, etc.”

      At the same time, there are only a small handful of highly successful women in film as writers and directors, and of those roles there hasn’t been any sort of young, hip, “bad girl” types for younger females to look to as models of success. I just don’t think she’s the awful, totally undeserving monster that the forum-dwelling hacks make her out to be. She has lots of talent and she wrote a film that connected with a lot of people who found it to be entertaining.

      Christ, look at how many Oscars were handed to people for films and roles that were purely Hollywood patting itself on the back or were purchased with multi-million dollar Oscar buzz campaigns. Diablo Cody has more talent as a writer than fucking Julia Roberts has as an actress, but I didn’t hear so much chatter when Horseface Killah won an Oscar for Erin Brokovich. And all she did was “branch out” into a non-fluff role.

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