Since I'm on the subject of celebrity, specifically my own, I think it's imperative that my substantial readership and I together must address the cataclysmic effect my impending celebrity will have on the world. And I'm talking about actual celebrity, not some half-assed, specious claim which attempts to link celebrity with the likes of a frequently photographed toy store employee reeking of anonymity. (Loser.) This will be a full-blown, Us Weekly, In Touch, Life & Style, grocery store check-out line saturated celebrity apocalypse.
Now, don't misunderstand me. I am not actively pursuing fame and notoriety. However, this albatross duo has been giving me backaches for some time. In late junior high and early high school, I was so influenced by the premonition of my inevitable celebrity that I saved absolutely everything that had my signature on it, that had been in my possession for any period of time at all, that could in any conceivable manner be associated with my person, so eventually this paraphernalia could be gathered with ease for future retrospectives, archival projects, and auctions with Sotheby's. I never made extensive notations in books I was reading for fear of what later generations of Speerians (Speervians? Speerites? Speerophiles?) would uncover in their exhaustive searches of my personal memorabilia. Would they consider my remarks dashed out in the margins of One Hundred Years of Solitude shallow and ill-founded? Would they successfully conjecture that I had no idea whatsoever how to read Shakespeare in the 10th grade? Even in undergrad I still experienced the hanging-ons of such a mindset. Example: In quick notes to myself on Post-its regarding menial tasks for the day I would follow a questionably spelled word with an obligatory (sp?) - just in case someone happened to look at my grocery list. They must be aware that I was aware that this particular word had been troublesome. (unrelated: Why do I hear a rooster crowing in Brooklyn?)
Our world is oversaturated with celebrity in general. Any actor/director/celebutante/spokesmodel/dj can't pick a wedgie at three in the morning without the world reading about two hours earlier. The tabloids have gotten that good. Do we really want to know what baby food they give to their one-year-old in vitro twins, where they buy their favorite bottled water, or how they learned to love again after they thought they'd never love again (for the fourth or fifth time)? Judging by the never-ending addition of celeb-glut magazines, apparently so.
This has me troubled. I can't bear the thought of carelessly heaping my celebrity onto the already stinking pile of decaying oversized sunglasses, Botox appointments, product endorsements, jilted lovers, adopted babies, Vanity Fair confessions, and nipple slips. It would be irresponsible of me to show such utter disregard for the well-being of Mother Earth and her children of all shapes, sizes, and gender reassignments. Think about this: DC-based American Forests has a Climate Change Calculator which allows you to determine how many trees you must plant to offset the fossil fuel-generated CO2 you produce through daily activity - heating, electricity, emissions. In a similar manner, what can we do to counterbalance the consequence of my unavoidable celebrity? This, like saving America’s forests, is a serious issue to be given due consideration. Perhaps a panel of international experts, including of course an actual Goodwill Celebrity or two, could convene at the UN to address this pandemic. I am not one to spit in the wind, bite the hand that feeds me, or shit in the bled I sleep. I desire to be a responsible human/actor/celebrity/demigod, and I am starting with you, dear readers. I am searching your highly educated minds to uncover what can be done. Please leave comments with your suggestions. The children of Africa demand your diligence. Your post could save the world, so let's get busy planting figurative trees! Or literal! At this point I’m open to anything.
P.S. - If by chance my readership isn't as vast as I'm certain it is and the response turns out to be less than stellar, I will have to start posting suggestions of my own. I'm a busy man. Please do not force me to waste my time when you could be wasting your own.
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4 comments:
Never ever uncross your legs while wearing a skirt. Ever. And become friends with Tina Fey as soon as she brings her little bundle of joy into FAO. Don't you dare reenact a scene from Big on the floor mat piano after hours. Someone is bound to be watching. You'll be a has-been before you are an is-being.
We can't stop or lessen your eventual celebrity, because I've saved everything you ever touched. It was way too hard getting the piano that you and Michal played on together in my efficiency apartment, so you can't back out now. I'm sorry about your celebrity fate, but there's nothing you can do.
Miss you and we should actually find some time to talk!
David, I think you should perhaps be worried a/b the tabloids discovering this pretentious blog. That could damn well sink the ship. Talk a/b a panty-shot...
But then again, the joke's on them. They surely won't get it.
This is an troubling, indeed. Two thoughts, D.A.Vid. First and most importantly please re-think (sp?) any decision to pose nude for Playgirl, Cosmopolitan or even a swimsuit edition of Focus on the Family. Only heartache will result. Look at Suzanne Sommers or Vanessa Williams (everyone else did). But such heartache for those two. Yes, they are famous. But there are categories of fame, are there not?
Secondly, I encourage you to follow the matrix of gaining celebrity status used by 80s pop singer Tiffany. While only 14 years of age, Tiffany would perform in shopping mall after shopping mall until she reached stardom with her cover of Tommy James and the Shondells' "I Think We're Alone Now." Doesn't that make sense. It's really so obvious when you stand back and think about it.
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