There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.

George Orwell was onto something. We may not be living in a dystopian nightmare of thoughtcrimes and ministries of truth, but the idea of big brother has morphed into a paparazzi/tabloid culture of cellphone camera thought police. The John Galliano thing is nuts. People get drunk. They get drunk and say crazy shit. We now live in a world where people are more afraid of what they’ll say when they’re intoxicated than what they’ll actually do. Drunk ranting has become a harsher offense than drunk driving.

This is not a defense of what Galiano said, because obviously, it’s indefensible. But the notion that an artist would lose his job because someone was recording him while he was drunk feels wrong to me. It’s very 1984. You don’t think Valentino went on some crazy offensive rant when he was partying in the 70s? You think John Lennon was a treat to be around when he was pissed off and drinking? These people aren’t saints, they’re artists and that’s what we need them to be. Political correctness is so overrated. Leave your goddamn camera phone off and enjoy the party.