Delete Your Account: Swim, Lies, And Videotape

What is Kurt Hummel on about now?

Delete Your Account is a weekly column that takes the hot air out of celebrities and their social media shenanigans. Every Friday, I will decide whether or not each perpetrator should delete their accounts and never grace the internet again. This week, Ryan Lochte is a scammer, Selena Gomez wanna be startin’ somethin’, Amy Schumer would very much like to be excluded from this narrative, and Frank Ocean rises from the dead.


Well, well, well. I’m not gonna name any names or anything, but this seems like the year of caucasians in distress tweeting out statements from their iPhone’s Notes app after getting caught in their own lies — lies exposed through video evidence. But, again, I’m not gonna name any names, so let’s get back to Ryan Lochte. Oh, sis ... wyd? We always knew that Lochte was two jeahs short of a full deck. I mean, we did see his reality series What Would Ryan Lochte Do?, where the answer to the question was “a lot of stupid shit.” We did endure him getting a grill, like, a decade after Nelly introduced white people to it with his enthusiastic jingle. We did witness him dyeing his hair before the 2016 Olympics, not realizing that the chlorine in the pool would turn it green. So really, weren’t we all ready for Lochte to create in international incident? Weren’t we prepared for him to create some type of Carmen Sandiego chaos and at least, I don’t know, try to steal a national monument?

But no, what ultimately happened is far more … idiotic. Lochte got wasted at a club with three other Olympians, documented their night on Snapchat, then went to a gas station where one of them vandalized a bathroom and broke a toilet door. If you have not been in the vicinity of a drunk white male in his twenties, this might seem like shocking behavior to you. But if you have ever been in a bar that allows cargo shorts and flip-flops as appropriate attire, you know that drunk white men are capable of Herculean feats of idiocy while drunk. At this point, the gas station attendants and a security guard were like this:

And Lochte and his crew were like:

The attendants demanded that the crew pay for their petty vandalism. They didn’t even ask Lochte to provide them with a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, a hair as yellow as corn, and a slipper as pure as gold, so it seems like they were letting these idiots off easy. BUT NO. This is Lochte we’re talking about here, so of course things escalated like a French farce. He told his mom that he was ROBBED AT GUNPOINT, so of course his mom gave an interview about her son being ROBBED AT GUNPOINT, which led to Lochte having to spin his web of lies on NBC. The only problem? Surveillance footage of the team returning to the Olympic village showed that the items he said were stolen were in fact on him the entire time. You’d think at this point Lochte would have learned to stop telling his mom things. Remember when she told Us Weekly in 2012 that he was busy having one-night stands and then he had to claim that he’s never had a one-night stand in his life? He has literally been swimming in a pool of lies for years and he finally ended up in the deep end.

And Lochte WOULD have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling Rio police! Naturally, they weren’t about to have this gaggle of gringos paint their country as some type of lawless, Hunger Games free-for-all, so they launched their own investigation and, lo and behold, receipts just started to pile up. Lochte took the opportunity to flee the country and leave his teammates in the lurch, who were in turn yanked off a plane as they tried to exit Rio. AND THEN THEY SNITCHED. They told Rio authorities that everything Lochte claimed about them getting mugged was a lie. A lie he made up just because he didn’t want his mom to know he or one of them vandalized a fucking bathroom door. Are you kidding me? This sounds like the plot of a damn Disney Channel TV series, not a thing that real-life adults do.

Of course, Olympics officials said “let’s give the kids a break” because these are, after all, white men. And they never mean what they say! Especially if they’re running for president. Sidestepping this whole concept of how white people do stupid shit and get a slap on the wrist whereas black people usually end up dead, the real crux of this Lochte issue is the fact that this boy lied to his mom and then created an international drama by trying to cover up said lie. Was he really that worried about disappointing his mom? Or is she hiding a darker, more violent personality underneath her bubbly interviews? Does she keep Lochte chained up in the basement when he’s not swimming, like Betty Applewhite from Desperate Housewives?!

Should Lochte Delete His Account? I’m not convinced this man types his own tweets in the first place. What we really need to worry about is confiscating his passport and access to heavy machinery.


Um, Justin … you know you’re a celebrity, right? Taylor Swift, Chrissy Teigen, and Kylie Jenner all have access to Instagram’s new feature that allows celebrities to disable Instagram comments

Oh. Well. I had a whole thing prepared but, moving on, I guess ...


Selena Gomez is out here doing shows. I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said she couldn’t keep her hands to herself, because the library is open, she is snatching books off the shelf, and she is reading for filth, y’all. This has been a long-ass time coming, because Selena has been trying to get rid of Justin like he’s Gizmo popping out gremlins after midnight. Last winter, things reached a boiling point when Justin kept posting throwback Thursday photos of Selena and lamenting over how much he misses her. Selena, for her part, was having none of this and she let her shady side show for the first time when a fan asked her to pick between Justin’s new album and One Direction’s latest:

But of course, since then they’ve still been playing that NBC procedural will-they-won’t-they chemistry to the hilt. She congratulated him after his Grammys win. Then they allegedly had drama over him inviting Hailey Baldwin to the iHeartRadio Awards. Listen, girl, I get it. I know all too well about breaking up with someone and then still wanting to be around them, still sliding into their DMs on Twitter whenever they like one of your stupid tweets, stalking months of their photos on Instagram … but this isn’t about me.

I’ve seen Grease enough times to know the worst things you can do to a lover, so I stop short of trying to expose them on Instagram for all of the world to see. Selena is not that person, however, so she dug down in her messy purse and pulled out all the receipts she could find. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get my life when she called Bieber out for cheating. That’s the kind of trashy celebrity drama we live for in Delete Your Account. If you’re going to expose someone, an affair is the easiest thing to drag out in the open. Not only does it discredit them, but it sends people scrambling for the evidence of who they were banging on the low. But here’s the thing … this was fun as hell to watch go down, but did she earn the right to do it?

Kind of not. Selena’s problem here is that she drags Bieber’s fans and their vendetta into her own. Bieber’s fans are intense and she knows how shitty it is for them to be harassing his new girlfriend on social media, most of all because that girlfriend is Lionel Richie’s daughter, and you don’t fuck with Lionel Richie. But Selena decided to take the side of these comment section psychos and retort, “if you can’t handle the hate, then stop posting pictures of your girlfriend.” Which is … kind of offensive. Sofia didn’t do anything to these teens, so why does she deserve to get harassed? Just because they don’t like Bieber with anyone else besides Selena? And furthermore … what happened to the Selena that was so gung ho about girl power when people were harassing her own friend Taylor Swift on social media weeks ago?

Taylor Swift was in distress so Selena Gomez naturally picked up her broom and flew over from Waverly Place to defend her. In an attempt to shame people for tweeting about Taylor’s drama with Kim Kardashian, she tweeted: “There are more important things to talk about... Why can’t people use their voice for something that fucking matters? Truth is last thing we need right now is hate, in any form. This industry is so disappointing yet the most influential smh.” Ironically enough, Kim managed to tweet about Black Lives Matter and gun control in the weeks before she uploaded that video onto the internet. Selena managed to do none of those things. And so, her woker-than-thou attitude came across looking very, very hollow. And it looks even more hollow weeks later when you egg on your ex-boyfriend’s fans to attack his current girlfriend, just because you’re mad at him. Call him out for cheating all you want, but don’t climb up on a cross while you do it.

Justin deleted his Instagram following their melee, which prompted an apology from Selena. But it arrived a little too late.

Should Selena Delete Her Account?


Amy Schumer is constantly doing the most. I get that she has a book out right now and she wants to promote that instead of dealing with Kurt Hummel (or whatever his name is) and his rape apologist rants. But once again, this is a problem entirely of her own making, which is something she has in common with Ryan Lochte and Selena Gomez this week. A former employee (since Inside Amy Schumer [Note: Comedy Central and MTV News are both owned by Viacom] is on a newly announced hiatus despite being renewed in January), Kris Metallica, said some dumb shit about rape in light of him calling it a “mob mentality” that led to the banning of a man from UCB Theatre who’s had several sexual assault allegations lobbied against him. Klay Matthews then went on an insane rant on Facebook and also Twitter about the women who be shoppin’ and also lyin’ about getting raped. Instead of simply distancing herself from said employee and saying, “can we focus on y’all buying my damn book, tho?”, Amy instead engaged in weird doublespeak and said he was no longer an employee because there is no show. She clarified the next morning that the show is on hiatus, which, um, doesn’t tell us anything about Olive Kitteridge’s employment, but whatever.

Amy later went on Charlie Rose to FURTHER clarify her comments, but how much clarifying do we need here? (She also claims that with Milhouse’s contributions to the writers’ room, “it’s always been very diverse,” and I was about to side-eye her because she only got ONE BLACK CHICK UP IN THERE, but then she finished her sentence with “... the views in there.” Touché, I guess.) This could have all been solved in one tweet but it blew up into a thing because instead of just tweeting out that she doesn’t agree with Kurt in the first place, Amy started blocking women on Twitter who asked her about her involvement with Kermit the Muppet. Granted, she doesn’t have to answer to any damn body on Twitter, but acting annoyed that this is such a big deal when you’ve gone through the process of blocking people instead of just being like “I DON’T AGREE WITH THIS BOY ALSO PLEASE GO BUY MY BOOK” is kind of silly.

Why did this become such a big deal? This dude is an asshole and he’s not currently writing on the show. This is, like, the least offensive thing Amy has ever done because she didn’t even do anything! It’s not pissing off Jennifer Lopez with racist jokes or calling all Mexican men rapists. That shit was fucked-up. This? This had absolutely nothing to do with Amy and was fucking with her money. You know what I do when someone is fucking with my money? I collect the fuck out of them. This dude was distracting from Amy’s book release and she didn’t send him a text and be like, “if you don't chill motherfucker, we gonna have a PROBLEM?” That’s really weird coming from a woman who said this about her pretty awesome sketch on rape culture last year: “[Joking about rape] is always a risk. You might look at this scene and think we’re making light of something serious, but we really are trying to educate. We know what message we want to send, and then we also think the premise is funny, and then we go to town.” You’ve tackled toxic rape culture before, ma, so why can’t you silence that shit when it’s directly affecting your coins?

Should Amy Delete Her Account? Amy always seems so put out about having to tweet in the first place. I think she hates Twitter. Do you want to delete your account, Amy? There’s plenty of famous people who don’t fuck with Twitter. If I were famous I certainly wouldn’t be on a social media platform where people say racist shit to me every day or try to convince me that The Americans is a good show. I want to delete my account more than anyone. But I’m not famous and I have bills to pay and so I will continue to use Twitter as long as I have to. You, on the other hand, could delete that shit now and solve so many problems. Delete it. Drink some Sauvignon blanc. Lay back on your couch. And watch some episodes of The Americans. You probably like that show.


Speaking of people who aren’t on Twitter …

FRANK AIN’T EVEN GOT AN ACCOUNT BUT HE’S ABOUT TO DELETE IT ANYWAY. I’m so mad at this scamming negro and his goddamn black-and-white Truffaut film ass live stream. This man has been playing with my emotions for what seems like decades. It all seemed so simple back when Nostalgia, Ultra came out and set the caucasian music blogs on fire. Then he came out as bisexual and really melted my icy cold heart and released Channel Orange, and I imagined I was going to fall in love with someone to the tune of Frank’s beautiful vocals. I saw him in concert at The Wiltern in Los Angeles and he made me cry when he covered the song he wrote for Beyoncé, “I Miss You,” because I’ve never really loved that song when she sang it (please don’t come for me, Beyhive — I am one of you, and you all know this to be true) but when he sang it, goddamn, there were fireworks in the air and everything moved in slow motion like the introduction of an important character in a Baz Luhrmann film.

BUT YOU KNOW WHEN THE FUCK THAT WAS, FRANK? THAT WAS IN 2012. THIS GODDAMN KOOPA BEEN SITTING ON A CLOUD IN THE SKY SOMEWHERE SINCE 2012 JUST PRETENDING HE WAS GONNA RELEASE ANOTHER ALBUM, WHEN LO AND BEHOLD, IT’S 2016 AND IT IS STILL NOT OUT YET. You know what is out? Endless, some goddamn gorgeous visual album bullshit that dropped on Apple Music. Yeah, it’s gorgeous. Yeah, listening to his cover of “At Your Best (You Are Love)” and thinking of Aaliyah’s cover and thinking of the fact that she passed away 15 years ago almost to this day made me sob into the glass of bourbon I was drinking. Everything about the visual album is perfect, except for the fact that, first of all, this ain’t a fucking visual album, because Beyoncé has released those and this is just you playing Tinker Tailor Where’s the Fucking Album Frank for 45 minutes.

But that’s what Frank is, isn’t he? He builds you up like these little stairs and the stereo in his Endless room and then the stairs don’t lead anywhere and you fall flat on your face. Do you know I almost met Frank once? He came to a Christmas party I was at last year. And I would have met him and cornered him and demanded he relinquish his album if a friend of mine who shall not be named wasn’t having a birthday party that same night on the other side of town and so I hopped into an Uber, only to get text messages once I arrived at the birthday party that FRANK OCEAN JUST ARRIVED AT THE GODDAMN CHRISTMAS PARTY I LEFT. The Christmas party was in Silver Lake. The birthday party was in West Hollywood. And if you don’t know Los Angeles geography, that’s really fucking far apart, because Cher Horowitz is a goddamn liar in Clueless and getting anywhere in L.A. does NOT take 20 minutes. I bet Frank Ocean learned how to lie from watching Clueless.

Anyway, according to Rolling Stone, the real goddamn album is supposed to drop this weekend, but you know what, Frank? I am tired of the games. Try Jesus, don’t try me.

Should Frank Delete His Account? I already said he doesn’t have a fucking account. I am so pressed right now. I’m gonna watch Endless again.