BFTP #7 - Life and Trials of the Rich and Famous
For: Coquitlam Now, Echo op/ed
Written: April 2006 (grade 11)
So I’m sitting here in the cafeteria of my school, Dr. Charles Best Secondary, trying frantically to come up with a topic for my journalism editorial, which is inconveniently due tomorrow. Unfortunately, the thought process is being continually interrupted by the annoyingly perky voice of the television announcer. Today’s topic of interest? Paris Hilton and her recent DUI antics. Hmm, lady with annoyingly perky voice, let me see. I don’t care, and…I don’t care. But even as I think the words, I’m witnessing a phenomenon in front of my very eyes. It seems as if little Ms. Drunk Hilton, even though she’s thousands of kilometers south of the border, can still command the collective attention of everyone in the cafeteria from a 52x40 inch box. The girls are staring and laughing, and the guys are simply staring. Which leads me to this question. Am I the only one in this room not captivated by the alcoholic capers of that blonde bimbo on the screen? It would appear so. And while we’re on the topic, why don’t we make this our topic?
Why do we always find ourselves drawn to the daily activities of celebrities? Britney’s pregnant again, Brad and Anj broke up, and Fergie decided solo stuff wasn’t her thing (not really, but I wish. Her voice makes me want to commit vehicular suicide.) I mean, I’m sorry celeb hunters, but do you honestly have nothing better to do with your time than waste it? What can possibly be gained by knowing the state of a pop star’s love life? What profound knowledge can be discovered within the depths of a certain actress’ wardrobe malfunctions, or so-and-so rapper’s messy divorce case? You could get more useful information from a banana. Now, in all fairness, I’m not too big into the whole movie/television/pop music scene, so I’m not really at liberty to judge those who are. But hey. This is a freaking editorial, so I’ll write whatever the heck I want to.
Check this out. I’m a basketball fan, and have been from day one, when my near-black eyes were opened to the world. I play the sport, follow the sport, and know almost every damned player in the North American system. I assume a movie buff would know a goodly amount of actors/actresses as well. What I don’t know is what kind of car Kobe Bryant drives, whether Lebron's girlfriend had a job done, or when Kevin Garnett ran away from the US Marine Corps before getting a pigment operation to make his former Swedish skin black. I know where to draw the line between hardcore fan and slightly-psychotic-obsessive-compulsive-whateverpulsive stalker-fan. It’s a fine balance, but I think I do okay.
I’m not trying to be a prick; well, actually I am, but it didn’t start out that way. I just think that magazines and TV shows that make their killing off of the private lives of the celebrities are, for lack of a better word, trash. They succeed by taking the trash of peoples’ private lives and trashing them even more. These are people just like you and me; they just chose a career path that’s in the public spotlight 90% of the time. They deserve the right to have their privacy as well. So for those of you who spend your time prying into the lives of the rich and famous, here’s a tip for you: get your own life.