Let’s face it, Shia LaBeof released fifty unstoppable megatons of the LaBeouf into the ether and we choked on it’s thick brilliance. Nice job planet earth, you saw a unicorn and because you didn’t understand its magic, you tried to snuff if out.
Shia has hung up his comb — no more Mutt Williams, no more bad British accents, no more aping on JC’s look, no more interesting penis shots. He was the very best of us who apparently smelled like the very worst of us.
He was a sky poet, a rebel, a dreamer, an amateur dentist, and an alleged wiener cousin to Brian Austin Green.
Shia LaBeof washed the mark of the plagiarist from his angelic face with the loaffah of truth. He made it a point to question the rules that say that you own that thing simply because you extracted it from the farthest reaches of your soul, labored over the shape of it, and polished it like a diamond whose true value only you know thanks to years and years of labor in those mental minds.
Oh planet earth, when will we retire the old ideas about race, sexuality, content ownership, and what constitutes a great Indiana Jones film? How long until we realize that the only true art is pastiche? I can’t answer those questions — they are bigger than me. What I can do, though, is tell you where I think Shia will float too now that he has retreated away from our judgement to inspire us.
The Ballad of Motorboat Jones
When I was a boy, I believed in a man name Mike. He was a basketball player and I wanted to be like him, but I could not just do it because it took skill, effort, and an inextinguishable fire that I did not possess. Also, I was bottom heavy and I could only dribble with my right hand. Michael Jordan was this man, a hero to millions who stood above all others in his chosen field, but one day he broke my heart by retiring from the game. Sound familiar?
Luckily, Mike didn’t stay retired for long. I’m sure you know the story: world famous basketball player starts playing baseball, gets pulled through a hole on a golf course and forced to play a seemingly unwinnable game of basketball beside Bill Murray and an assortment of anthropomorphic cartoon animals against a group of suspect aliens, eventually winning the game and re-finding his love of the game. But before Jordan really decided to go back, he returned in disguise (a killer mustache and glasses) as Johnny Kilroy, scoring 79 points in one quarter of one game.
I propose that Shia will do the same thing, win an Oscar, and then recede back into the mist of mystery. What makes me think that?
Not enough for you? How about this!
Now, this could all be a coincidence, but I have hope. Sure, maybe Shia really is gone and my judgement is clouded. Maybe I’m seeing words that don’t exist in the tea leaves, but you can tell me all of that and dismiss my theory as bunk, but you can’t stop me from looking up at the stars at night in search of a twinkle and you can’t stop Shia’s message… well, alright, maybe you can.
Anyway, #FreeShia #DontCreate #CutPasters4Life
The following was a work of parody. They made me type this.