"Famous people are like a different breed," he muses, and I can only imagine what he's seen out there in Hollywood. "I would never want fame like that. I prefer to stay behind the scenes, be creative that way." Who can blame him? He's seen Michael Jackson's wretched fall from grace, and the omnipresent overexposure that plagues Britney. Wade Robson doesn't even watch music videos anymore, and the only current artist who lights his fire is Usher because he's talented enough not to have to succumb to "booty-shaking bullshit." The sycophants came sniffing around Wade too, and he turned down their offers to make him a star, to produce an album of disposable, sugar-coated crapola. Instead, he's signed a three-picture directing deal with Disney to bring back the movie musical. The film he's currently attached to, 5,6,7,8, actually sounds complex and interesting. Instead of being a meatheaded hoofer, the guy exposed me for the judgmental critic that I am. Touché, Wade. Touché.
