Being a somewhat-known, lower-tier show business personality brings a certain amount of anonymity that I prefer and enjoy. I can leave my apartment or go out to eat without a gaggle of paparazzi waiting to take photos of me and my children. I can go for long walks/hikes/trail runs/gravel rides in the nearby woods, unbothered. Just me, my dog Gatsby, my gear, my weed, and the daily, stress-relieving tranquility that I crave.
Unfortunately, around the time we got Gatsby, back in the summer of ‘21, I started noticing a few suspicious looking photogs embedded in the brush here and there, snapping pics of the two of us while we were out in the woods on our various nature excursions. I’m not religious, but nature is my temple. A place I go for solitude, usually accompanied by my non-human son. A place I expect to be left alone.
I know what follows might seem like an obvious, bullshit premise and self-serving ploy to post low to mid-quality selfies, or screen grabs from selfie videos, or photos or videos that friends took, either because I think I took a good/cool photo, or because I think I look good/cool/tough/hot/sexy/young.
But this is the work of a small group of blood thirsty parasites. The latest scourge of photo “journalism” in the age of social media.
The Natureazzi.
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