Artwork: The Hoff

© Fata Morgana 2007. No rights reserved

Do you remember a certain television show in the early nineties? I was called Baywatch, and I was about 13-14 years old when the series aired. The first episodes was fun, considering the display of bare tits. Then it became more of the same, moralistic crap that plagued the rest of the decade. Still there were babes running about the sandy catwalk, but each time Hobie told Mitch that he loved him oh-so-dearly, I wanted to womit. All the women in the world couldn’t salvage the sinking plotlines. Nearly all of my pals desperately needed outlets for their puberty issues, while I rather play ‘Doom’ on the computer. After Baywatch I decided that porn is less time-consuming. At the same time, porn does not pretend to be intellectual or talented. It’s just porn. You should not buy Beyonce’s records just because you need to get laid.

I am trailing. This piece is dedicated to the legendary David Hasselhoff. A less than talented actor and crooner, but not without a certain cult charisma. Even though he boasts of single-handedly bringing down the Berlin Wall, lying absolutely shitfaced on the floor in front of his children – I forgive him. Most in the sense that I’ve got nothing to do with it. I’m happily observing the man being someone else’s problem. Still, the otherworldly remarks on the fall of communism ignited a spark in me.