Not Everyone Can Be a Star!

There really is what they call a "universal consciousness."

How else can you explain the fact that I started writing a new column yesterday entitled "Not Everyone Can Be A Star" and then I turned on Oprah today to discover her show was about "Living A Lie"? How are these topics related? Well, let me explain

The column I had in mind was going to address how almost everyone in America these days feels the need to stand out, to be "special," to be a star. Look at MySpace. People come up with these over-the-top, grandiose names, create a persona and exist within a fantasy world that borders on delusional.

Now I realize that, to a certain extent, this is human nature. After all, we are the only creatures who not only create, but embellish, adorn and exaggerate. I mean, let's be honest, without artifice what kind of world would this be? But at some point the scale tipped and suddenly everyone felt entitled to be fabulous and famous. Oprah's show today included an interview with a woman who, in an attempt to emulate the celebrities she worships, spent over $150,000 on designer clothing, accessories and jewelry.

America's current obsession with celebrity has spun completely out of control. This is perfectly proven by the fact that as I write this, the top news story on the 4 o'clock news, despite the fact that we are still at war or that a Southern California woman was just diagnosed with bubonic plague (no, I am not kidding), is the birth of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes' baby (which, by the time you read this, will be old news). As long as we're watching American Idol or reading Us Weekly in a semi-comatose state, politicians have a much better chance of getting away with all the illegal, immoral and/or inhumane things they are doing.

Martin Scorcese's brilliant and prophetic film, The King of Comedy, is about a dreadfully bad stand-up comedian (played by Robert DeNiro) who brutally kidnaps a late night talk show host. His ransom demand? An appearance on his famous hostage's popular show. The aspiring comic's wish is granted, he has his proverbial moment in the sun, he's arrested and he goes to prison. After he's released he becomes a huge star. This movie has always chilled me to the bone, even more than Scorcese's darker, more overtly frightening work such as Taxi Driver. We don't even care how or why a person got famous anymore, so long as they are. Insert Paris Hilton/Monica Lewinsky/Kato Kaelin joke here.

I have a friend who has the most beautiful historic Victorian home in San Francisco. The place is filled with gorgeous antiques, oil paintings, and sculptures. Hanging on the wall of his office is a small, poorly-executed painting of a bird. The signature reads "Gacy," as in John Wayne Gacy, the part-time clown and full-time serial killer. The hands that painted that shitty, unappealing picture are the same hands that strangled the life out of 33 young men and boys, burying 28 of them beneath his Brady Bunch-looking Des Plaines, Ill. home. I find no humor or irony in this. John Wayne Gacy was not an artist, he was a monster. He is famous only because he manually drained the life from 33 young people. Don't even get me started on that other no-talent criminal with whom so many "cool" people seem obsessed, Charles Manson.

Okay, I'm rambling. My point, which I have obviously wandered from, is that in a world where everyone is special, no one is.

Nowadays you go to a fast food restaurant and the 17-year-old behind the counter, filled with obscene visions of consumption from MTV's Cribs and the like, is bitter beyond his years. He resents having to work, having to wait on you, and assumes that since he doesn't respect or appreciate his job, you don't either. And guess what? You're gonna pay for it. Yep, he's going to prove that he's not less than you -- if not by being outright rude, then at the very least by being completely apathetic and letting you know, loud and clear, he simply doesn't care. Because caring, about a job or another person or anything, would show weakness.

So we're left with a country that, when dealing with immigration reform, cries, "These are the people doing the jobs Americans won't do!" And why won't we do them?

Because we're all too fucking special.

Wednesday May 17
The Official Dirty Sanchez Album Release Party

Live performances by Dirty Sanchez, Avenue D, Jer Ber Jones (aka Robbie D.) with DJ's Henry Self and Barbeau of Dirty Sanchez

Key Club
9039 Sunset Blvd., W. Hlywd.
(310) 274-5800
www.keyclub.com

photos by Mario Diaz