The paparazzi dissed Fabio by saying something along the lines of “hey, you still have fans”, in some passive aggressive asshole attempt to call him done did.
I think the paparazzi are just bitter that they spend their days chasing the dude who made enough money to have a Ferrari for being the topless dude on drugstore romance novel covers and the “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” spokesperson, 10 years after the fact, and despite how fun that sounds, it’s a hell of a lot more useless of an existance than being the dude who cashed out for having long hair and a ripped body who gets to spend his days “having fun” and “going to the gym”. That’s like this alcoholic friend of mine who never wanted to get off his ass to do anything, but always wanted to make his life seem worth living by lining up menial tasks, he’d call me and ask if I wanted to run errands with him. One day, it would be to go to the post office to buy a stamp, another day was to buy a pen and he always managed to find one thing he felt needed to get done, only instead of driving a Ferrari, he took the bus, and instead of being Fabio, he was fat and girls wouldn’t masturbate for him, even if he paid them.
What it comes down to is that I am even more bitter than they are because I’m the asshole writing about Fabio and the Paparazzi and that’s pretty fucking weak, but not as weak as my heart that I think is about to explode from smoking this cigar on an empty stomach.