A dose of reality, please.
Hollywood appeals to us -- even when it doesn't. On some level we envy or harbor a tiny lust for money, attention, admiration and even drama. I may call it love or something a little nobler, but I still hunger for something I can't find in my every day life that I think could be fulfilling -- if only. If only I had a personal trainer for eight hours a day, or a nanny. If I had the perfect car, or an unlimited budget life would be so sweet. How about the love of an amazing person, or at least one who looks amazing standing next to me?
We read about stars knowing they have some slice of life that we can only hope for, and somehow attach importance, as if they possess a special touch. Oprah has loads of wisdom. Why? She makes authors. Why? Does their book improve if she's read it? Brad and Angelina are the perfect couple. Really? Is that true?
So why do we even consider that anything celebrities say is of better quality than what our neighbor down the street thinks? Money, fame, beauty? Do pretty lips make truth?
Then there's the flip side. The hunger for the dirt. We love to see our celebrities fall. And we often act so surprised. Like uberattention, scads of money, socially liberating substances and all the flesh money can attract are good character builders. Madonna is getting divorced. This shocks us. Maybe it's the sick uncontrollable desire like when we drive by an accident. Must look, don't want to see anything awful, must look. Remember the intro to the old Wide World of Sports show on Saturdays. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. I don't remember the thrill shots, but the agony...who can forget that poor guy. Yeah, the gold medal winners get the victory circle, but the amazing failures join them in notoriety.
I suppose a daily dose of superstars won't kill us but it's not exactly a multi-vitamin either, is it?
