“I didn’t invent killin’ it – I’ve just had a monopoly on it for the last three years.”
Scott Disick really jumped into the killin’ it game when his girlfriend’s sister was given top-billing in an unintentional but totally intentional skin flick. Accordingly, she was rewarded with a reality show. However it quickly became clear who the real star of the show was: older sister Kourtney’s awesome boyfriend Scott. Whether it was sending flirtatious texts to other women while he sat at the dinner table with his girlfriend's half-witted nuclear family, dressing in the most shameless suits, or partying for three weeks straight while she stayed home with their bastard child, Disick always aimed to kill. Even Vishnu would be hard-pressed to juggle all those broads, bottles, and babies at the same time.
Scott jumps from one business venture to another faster than he goes through women, but if you were Eskimo brothers with Harry Morton, Jim Morrison, and Morris Day you'd be distracted, too. Despite being the patron of his fame, Scott doesn’t hesitate from publicly accusing his girlfriend's sister, Kim, of sleeping with the pool boy and being homeless and then spending her family’s money like a more profligate version Toni Braxton. Scott also holds it down as lord of the manor. When Kim tried to get Kourtney to give Scott the girlfriend experience about his nonstop-killin’-it lifestyle, Scott’s response was direct and to the point in a way that only Patrick Bateman could be; "If I'm a fucking murderer, wouldn't I be the wrong person to fuck with?"
"Hater's gonna hate."
Scott was clearly born to kill, and the Kardashians obviously need to get out of the way unless they’re ready to be swimming in his wake of decadence, debauchery and illegitimate offspring they’ll have to raise. His approach to love and life truly reveals an inherent dichotomy within the nature of killin’ it: that the worse you treat a woman the more they love you. But who can blame Kourtney? Her husband kills it so hard that his lifestyle made Bacchus quit drinking, Eros give himself a penectomy, and Charles Bukowski blush in shame.
"That dichotomy between the public consumption of the work and my intent and practice in making it is an uneasy one for me, on occasion. Otherwise, I just totally kill it.”
Kill it on twitter: http://twitter.com/peoplekillinit
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