Tag: celebrities

Boundaries!

We need some new rules.  Let’s face it, folks: we live in childish times.  Our opinions are no longer thoughtful and measured but instant and shrill.  Our discussions are loud and unruly: our voices are pouty.  We whine and complain, and we’re constantly throwing temper tantrums when we don’t get what we want.  (Take a peek at all the Lockdown protests.)  In short, we’ve become a bunch of bratty children.  So, it’s time we set up a few boundaries.  Here are some suggestions: feel free to add to the list.

Like fishing, hunting and driving a car, people must have a license before they’re allowed to use Social Media.  They must pass a test that proves they’re actually smarter than a four-year-old before they can have a Facebook, Twitter or Instagram account.

If you’re having a serious political discussion, you cannot refer to ex-president Trump.  It’s been eight months.  He’s gone.  Give it a rest!

Grown men must not wear short pants if they are more than 5 metres away from a beach, a playground, a picnic spot or their own backyard.  (Guys, what don’t you understand about “grown man?”)

Baseball caps must be worn the right way round.  Look, ya moron! Wearing them backwards actually defeats the whole purpose of the hat.

Old men on loud motorcycles must seek professional help for their penis anxiety.

A baby stroller is not a weapon.  Therefore, it cannot be larger, wider, taller or heavier than the mom pushing it.  And dads, the mall is not Charlotte Motor Speedway — and neither is the grocery store.  Slow down!  Your kids are getting wind-burnt.

You can no longer claim to be “spiritual” just because you have a foreign language tattoo.  (The only thing you can claim is you have bad taste and too much disposable income.)

“Like,” “Awesome,” “You know” “Totally” and “Amazing” are banned from polite conversation.

The phrase “plus size” is also banned.  It’s just a sneaky way of reminding ordinary women they’re not supermodels.

The words “for” and “about” are no longer interchangeable.  “I’m embarrassed for it” and “I’m embarrassed about it” are completely different.  The first one isn’t even English.

Vegans must wait at least 5 minutes before announcing their status to strangers.  This rule does not apply to vegetarians (who normally don’t get all pissy about their culinary habits, anyway.)

If you’ve been in 3 or more movies, you’re no longer allowed to talk about poverty.  You’re riding around in a limousine, for God’s sake!  What can you possibly tell anybody about being poor?  (This goes double if you play a musical instrument for money.)

Professional athletes can no longer be paid more than the GDP of Malta.  They’re kicking a ball, not curing cancer. Let’s get some perspective.

From here on, celebrities have to be famous for a reason.  (And a photo-shopped picture of your ass on Instagram doesn’t count!)

And finally

Actors, actresses, singers and musicians who visit poor countries — for whatever reason — are no longer allowed to bring orphan kids home as souvenirs.

Happy Birthday, Kim!

This year, Hallowe’en is going to be different from any other time in living memory.  I know — I’ve had my problems with All Hallow’s Eve recently (It used to be one of my favourite celebrations until it got hijacked by a bunch of nitwits!) but I’m not one to kick somebody when they’re down.  So, rather than taking a few gratuitous shots at a holiday that’s having a hard time, I’ve decided to look elsewhere for something to write about — and I found it!

Once again, Kim Kardashian has gone out of her way to tell you – point blank — just how much she thinks it sucks to be you.  She gave herself a 40th birthday party torn out of the pages of Decadent Weekly.  This particular debauch was held on a private island, and all attendees were tested, quarantined, disinfected, sanitized, sterilized and washed — toes to tonsils — before they were allowed anywhere near the Queen of CyberSleaze.  Kim herself was in fine form, harnessed into a dress specially engineered to make the jiggly bits stand still and to showcase Silicon Valley.  She had enough makeup on that no virus could possibly fight its way through and walked on tottering heels as though she were following an imaginary plow.  (You go, girl!)  Most of the other women had that glazed look of one-too-many shots of Botox (no smiling or you’ll crack the paint!) and the men were, as usual, forgettable.  There were enough “candid” photos to satisfy even the tweeniest of tweens and so many bent-knee poses that I’m certain Barbie was jealous.  And the whole mess was documented on Twitter with a tease that there was more coming soon to a television near you. 

So what’s the big deal?  Just another set of cyber-celebrities strutting their stuff on Twitter – happens every day.  After all, everybody knows that, despite the hype, we’re NOT all in this together, and pandemic or no, rich celebrities are doing rich celebrity stuff all the time.  Ho-hum!  Nor was the backlash anything special.  Calling Kim Kardashian “tone-deaf” is like calling Kim Jong-un a dictator.  The Kardashian crowd doesn’t care what you think.  These are the folks who would recapture Free Willy and turn him into corsets and perfume if they thought it would give them five more minutes on Instagram.  Actually, the closest anyone got to criticism was Colin Hanks’ “Let them eat cake!”  But no, this wasn’t a modern Marie Antoinette, hobbling around a Tahitian Versailles.  It was more Louis XIV meets Wal-Mart.  One suspects the partygoers were drinking Dom Pérignon laced with Red Bull, dining on roast flamingo stuffed with M&Ms and playing Clue with a real murder.  It was all very nouveau gauche without it actually being nouveau anymore.  The festivities were clearly “been there/done that” tired.  And the “inner circle” looked like they were trying way too hard to convince the peasants that tawdry wasn’t a chore. 

In the 21st century, we’ve all seen lavish parties.  George and Amal rented the Grand Canal in Venice, for God’s sake!  A lot of celebrities own their own islands, but the Kardashians still have to rent theirs.  And the ship they’re taking these days has already sailed.  The once mighty Kardashian brand shares the spotlight with a B-list actress from Suits who wants to be the Queen of Southern California; Ellen, the world’s nastiest sycophant; and a pack of snapping rappers.  By Monday, Kimmie’s birthday bash will be all but forgotten.  Kardashian relevance is getting lost in the Social Media conflagration they created, but, more importantly, the Cult of Celebrity is losing its charm.  The world has moved on.  

Cult Of Celebrity!

red-carpet

It may be too much to hope for, but it looks as if the terrible, terrible plague that has gripped our planet for far too long may be over.  … SERIOUS PAUSE … Uh – no – not that one, the other one: the soul- eating Cult of Celebrity.  Maybe — just maybe — our unholy obsession with celebrities could be in its final days.

It all started in March when Wonder Woman and her tone deaf (that works on so many levels!) choir trotted out John Lennon’s ode to hypocrisy, Imagine.  Although they meant it as feel-good manna from the ruling class, it didn’t take the peasants more than a few minutes to “imagine” Gal and the gang were a bunch of assholes.  After all, millionaires telling a bunch of people who are having trouble paying the rent to “imagine no possessions” is kinda adding insult to injury.  And from there, it just got worse.  Ellen DeGeneres, the world’s mightiest sycophant, told us that living in her multi-million dollar mansion was like “being in jail.”  Clearly, Ms. DeGeneres has never been in jail, seen a jail or even had a jail carefully described to her.  And of course, since then we’ve all learned that, even as she spoke, her smiles and chuckles production company was treating the staff as if Ellen was the warden.  Then along came Madonna, the Queen of Pop, and named Covid-19 the “the great equaliser.”  Oddly enough, she did it stark naked in a bathtub that probably cost more than my car!  Apparently, some of us are more equal than others, huh, Madge?  Then there was Jennifer Lopez frolicking in her huge backyard; Pharrell Williams, asking for money; Katy Perry, bored out of her mind, and on and on and on.  But for sheer audacity, nothing beats the crew of really, really white people on Twitter, celebsplaining how much Black Lives Matter in their “I Take Responsibility” campaign.  These Malibu militants were giving it their best shot, but it was almost impossible not to laugh at their “Dammit, I’m sincere!” sincerity.  First of all, they’re actors – Duh!  Secondly, we all know their only brush with black anything is probably Will Smith.  And finally, aside from wearing a T-shirt and maybe giving the housekeeper a Christmas bonus, these folks were done.  When they shut off the camera, they were going back to their enormous homes, their manicured lawns, their nannies, their drivers, their personal assistants and a little Grey Goose by the pool.  The message might be “We’re all in this together,” but anyone who’s watching knows we aren’t.

The truth is without Award Shows, Red Carpets, parties, photo-ops and the Late Night Jimmies (Kimmel and Fallon) the celebrity emperor has no clothes.  When push comes to shove and serious stuff is on the table, it’s painfully obvious that celebrities are less than useless.  In fact, they’re part of the problem, because they insist that fame somehow makes them relevant — that their political insights, their social awareness and – OMG! — their medical advice actually means something.  It doesn’t.  It’s just muddying the water.  Personally, I’m praying that, as more and more people discover this, when the New Normal finally gets here, there won’t be any room for these parasites.  We can only hope!