John Mayer Is a Good Interview

John Mayer: mystery man! Man of a thousand faces. One minute, he’s the shy, boyish beau of Jessica Simpson. The next, he’s a loveable goofball making funnies on his blog. Then right after that, he calls a journalist a moron and threatens to non-consensually do her editor in the bunghole. Christianna Ablahad at NY Mag conducted this interview (we’ll just use a few quotes):

What do you think about health care? Would you take the public option?
Have you ever heard me play guitar? I’m really fucking good. You know what I’m bad at? Answering questions about public health care. This is not in my wheelhouse. Do you have any questions about music? I almost got a mad need to lighten up. You need to lighten up, because the questions you asked me were all troublemaking questions. If someone gave me the Nobel Peace Prize, and I didn’t deserve it, I would just shut my mouth and enjoy the hell out of it.

Which I’m sure he’s doing.
What’s he going to do, send it back? It’s like I’m getting a wrongful bulge in my pants and everyone’s thinking I’ve got a nine-inch cock. I’m not going to argue with them, I’m going to let them think I have a nine-inch cock.

These are questions my editor wanted me to ask. I’m trying to build my journalistic career here.
You’re not building a journalistic career. You’re making yourself look like a moron and you’re not a moron. Who’s your editor?

Jada.
Jada is making you sound like a moron in front of people.

How is that different? Haven’t you written a lot about heartbreak?
I think most artists do, but this is really breaking into the theme of it as a concept.

What concept?
More political things, worldly things.

Such as?
Nothing rhymed with public option.

You don’t always have to rhyme, though.
I’m going to forcefully sodomize your editor.

And here we’ve been, toiling away lo, these last five years, trying to gain some sort of respect in the gossip journalism world. And it turns out all it gets you is the threat of forced sodomy by someone who wrote a love song about Jennifer Love Hewitt’s boobs. We’ll stay in our basement office typing happily on our Commodore 64s, thanks.