Thanksgiving is the time when we take a moment to recognize all we have to be grateful for. And appropriately, this week we will twice be reminded of how fortunate we are to share our existence with America’s greatest export: celebrities.
Tomorrow night, Hollywood’s vast mind-crippling celebrity machine offers the second-season premiere of ‘The Osbournes.’ During the first season, the media propelled Ozzy and his family to cosmic heights. They were impossible to ignore national treasures led by a mumbling fool who reduced us all to star-struck schoolgirls.
Not even the highest officers in the land were immune to the Prince of Darkness’ profane but lovable charm. As a guest at last year’s White House Correspondents’ Dinner, Ozzy was enthusiastically and ridiculously embraced by giddy, smitten politicians. It was a bizarre, if not altogether disturbing, moment, when our proud Texan president playfully exchanged jokes with his new buddy, a man who once urinated on the Alamo.
It would be nearly impossible to match the media and marketing frenzy ignited by the first season of ‘The Osbournes.’ In fact, if history is any indication, season two will surely be a disappointment. Like the Cosbys, Keatons and Bradys before them, the Osbournes have added another child to their clan a definite sign that things are getting stale. But in spite of their inevitable sophomore slump, it will still take hard work to avoid the Osbourne hype.
Because by convincing us that the Osbournes and other celebrities are important, lots of people make lots of money. So Barbara Walters gushes while praising Sharon Osbourne for her remarkable bravery as she battles cancer when, in truth, many, many normal people fight cancer every day. And most of them are unable to afford the best medical treatment available, much less ongoing care for their children, a comfortable luxurious home, well-prepared meals and dog psychologists.
The machine would have you believe that significant lessons are to be learned from the Osbourne family. Despite their vulgarity and wacky dyed hair, they really love each other! Can’t we all take something from that? We can. But the lesson is the same as that of Britney’s coming of age, Tom and Nicole’s divorce and Eminem’s rage. The emperors wear no clothes. They are meaningless, empty vessels, strategically produced and packaged at a reasonable price.
After digesting our turkey on Thursday, we can pick up the newest album by Jennifer Lopez, a regular gal who used to have a little, but now she has a lot. She’s still <she’s still> Jenny from the block. So claims her humble single, ‘Jenny From the Block,’ a follow-up to the equally paranoid and defensive hit ‘I’m Real.’
But Jenny from the block is anything but real. She’s a ridiculous commodity living in a twisted world of delusion. Every day, people who tell her she’s wonderful treat her like a princess. And as a result, she’s oblivious to the realities of life. Not only will she have the nerve to carry out a silly wedding ceremony, J-Lo will likely spend an extravagant amount of money doing so. Interviewers like Diane Sawyer will gawk over the beautiful engagement ring, but fail to ask a simple question like ‘How could you expect anyone to take this marriage seriously?’
While it may not be as dangerous as al Qaeda or the Greenhouse Effect, America’s obsession with celebrity can not be healthy. Yes, ‘stars’ have always caught the public’s attention. But never have they been manufactured so quickly or compensated so disproportionately.
Today we crank ’em out. The new Hollywood IT kids, the brilliant and the beautiful, the next Tobey Maguire, Ed Burns, Jason Biggs, Hayden Christiansen, Leo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Ed Furlong, Seth Green, Ashton Kutcher, Vince Vaughn, Bill Gillis, Heath Ledger, Jude Law, Ryan Phillipe, Josh Hartnett or Ben Affleck. And the white teeth shine all around and around.
They pose for a couple magazines, nail a couple supermodels, act in a couple movies, and then move on. Some will be lucky to have their number called again, while others will only resurface during humiliating moments on Celebrity Boxing or Hollywood Squares. But in the process, they’ll all make a handsome wad of cash.
More than a teacher. More than a firefighter. More than anyone working for a charity. And that’s the most troubling aspect of celebrity culture. Non-profit organizations struggle to pay employees a reasonable wage. Rapper Master P’s car boasts ‘a see-through sound system filled with water, which changes colors. That’s the hottest thing out right now.’ Adds P, ‘I’ve also got TVs, DVDs, Xbox, PlayStation, and I have NO LIMIT engraved in the seats and in the maple on the outside of the car. I probably ended up spending, like, $300,000 customizing Mercedes.’ And why shouldn’t he?
The nauseating and criminal excess of celebrity-spending is proudly documented by the media, as if it’s something we should applaud. But in a fair world we would institute a ‘Just Because’ tax for the MTV-crib dwellers who fail to make worthwhile contributions to society. So if Vin Diesel makes $10 million for a ‘Fast and the Furious’ sequel, we distribute nine million to those in need and let Vin get by with one. Why? Just because. He should be thankful we don’t take it all.
Of course, unfortunately, we can’t take any. And short of burying our heads in the sand, there’s little we can do. The celebrities are just too powerful. They’re smiling from the side of a bus, they’re selling long distance, they’re bling-blinging, and worst of all they’re multiplying.
We can only bask in their glory, forget the Alamo, and wait for our own 15 minutes.
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