Amanda Knox Needs You to See Her the Way She Needs You To See Her

Pure narcissism, of the variety currently and fatally plaguing us (it's the header to this article, which you don't need to read, because the header says it all). This is the more dangerous epidemic in America, where everyone feels poor and victimized (hey, it's a chic trend; all the best people are totally into it!).

All Americans are rich and only a wealthy, comfortable, entitled person would imagine they would/could define the world's view of them. To imagine the world owes you any such thing is the blinkered, twisted conceit of a messed up narcisstic aristocrat.

As I move through the world, no one has the slightest notion that I was a hip jazz musician (I don't look like it anymore) or an Internet sensation (I never looked like it) or a devoted yogi (jesus christ do I ever not look like it) or someone who's figured out fresh answers to big questions or received enthusiastically positive notes from a succession of oddly slinky girlfriends. I look/seem like someone with a very stout, very stern wife who dominates the bejesus out of him, and who recedes to his basement to play endlessly with his model train set or collection of caged weasels or whatever to escape her, and spends his days as an assistant accounting professor at some community college. I am phenomenally unimpressive and uninteresting-seeming. 

And all of that's ok. I'm not complaining. People are entitled to their opinions, if nothing else. In fact, if you tried to control the opinions of young Ms. Knox, she'd howl like a banshee. She wants to control yours, not the other way around. Fair's fair.

You may not have as wide a reality/appearance differential as I do, but you're likely closer to my end of things than to gorgeous rich young Amanda Knox who indignantly demands the right to define herself to others; to determine their view of her. What sort of self-raptured lunatic thinks they can or even should control what other people think about anything, much less about them?

Her fury that a little murder or whatever might deprive her of her inherent right to determine her own image in the world illustrates all that's wrong with contemporary America. Even murder aside, the image determination chunk, alone, blows my mind (add the murder part back, and it's a double wallop). As a comfortable middle-aged white boomer dude who's supposed to enjoy all the entitlement, I'd never imagine any such thing. No one sees me! No one has ever seen me! And it honestly never occurred to me that that they would, much less should, much less must! What is wrong with people?!?

This novel notion is exclusive to the bubble of spoiled, choleric Mrs. Howells that's arisen in the latter decadent stages of this unhealthily wealthy, entitled, and narcisstic society.