James Franco, on his ceaseless carousel-ride of holding our attention hostage, has taken off too many of his clothes and doused his body in too much of something glistening. He has posted a photo with his chest puffed, his undergarments lowered, and his hand on his junk area. It’s exactly as it sounds, but also worse.
I’m sorry for you, if you are here and reading this. I’m sorry for myself, about seeing this and writing this. I regret that this is the place where we have gathered at this moment. But James Franco is the one who should really be sorry: Don’t forget that. If you still have verve and spirit and strength within you (you do!), leave this image and never return. Carry on, reader. We shall meet again in a happier place.