Considered talented and attractive.

  My sad experiment has come to an end.  Trying to absorb and appreciate all that pop culture has to offer has proved to be a big mistake.  I am not cut out for this.  I have too much self respect.

  In case someone actually cares, I had attempted to watch numerous popular movies and television shows, hoping to get a better understanding into what exactly makes these things popular.  My distaste for these much hyped presentations left me feeling out of the loop.  And though I had no problem with this, I figured it was my personal responsibility to get with the program.

  No dice.  I am happier dancing with a wall than dancing with the stars.  There is simply too much more important and useful information out there to gather and contemplate, and dismissing this relevant content in favor of irrelevant and mindless prime-time garbage is wasteful and illogical. 

  There is a universe out there.  We’re all spinning through it at high speed, completely vulnerable to its power and intentions.  And as we spin we’re staring into a box.  Really man.

  So I am wrapping up my dopey assignment.  For all who followed along I owe a sincere apology.  Sorry for wasting your time.  While I have your ear, I’d like to end on a serious note:  Quit gushing over Obama, a man who you don’t know, who has an agenda that you wouldn’t agree with if you bothered to investigate; quit screaming about Bush, a man who’s hands you tied as he tried his best to keep you safe;  quit being fascinated by the lifestyles and personalities of famous people, as if they would even bat an eye if they saw you fall off a cliff;  and quit using credit to furnish your every desire – this is the reason our economy sucks, not because of evil corporate CEO’s or the war in Iraq.  The idea that you and I deserve to live with so much for doing so little, while past generations of people did with so much less for doing so much more, is why we all find ourselves in a dilemma.  Do you think the economy has had any affect on Australian bushmen?  What about the Amish?  Probably not.  They’ve continued to live the same way as everyone before them, never falling into the “I deserve a better life and I’m going to get it with the help of this little plastic card” trap.  Nothing I’ve ever done qualifies me for a life of leisure and laziness, and the same goes for you.  Unless you’re pregnant, handicapped or old.

  Once upon a time, when man first lifted his knuckles and head off of the ground and began to look around, he was overwhelmed by what he saw.  His was a simple mind, capable of only telling him when he was hungry, sick, hurting and tired.  What stood before him was a world of mystery and danger, a complex and frightening landscape never before witnessed.  With a level of courage that people today cannot and will not ever comprehend, early man pressed on with his life, cluelessly maneuvering through his unmarked environment.  Up against incredible odds he eventually persevered, and we sit here today as living proof. 

  Thousands of years later, we are fortunate enough to live in a completely recognizable environment.  The questions have all been answered for us, and the task of  blindly wandering about in hopes of avoiding serious crisis is a thing of the past.  Our minds are free to dream, rather than to simply react, and we are creating solutions to every obstacle we encounter, even manipulating our natural world to better suit our needs. 

   But the landscape is forever changing.  In spite of all that we now know, all that we’ve engineered, certain mysteries remain.  We know what makes the sun hot,  and we are certain that what goes up must come down, but new challenges have developed that leave us scratching our heads and will continue to stump modern man for centuries to come.  The rapid rise and enduring fame of some of the more absurd personalities found in popular entertainment today has left us as befuddled as prehistoric man, struggling to navigate the cruddy terrain.

  I am happy to present to you the first installment of Celebrity Head Scratchers, a series in which we will attempt to shed light on just a few of these new found troublesome perplexities, each sharing in common one simple question: why?  Oh yeah, and how?  Please follow along as the absurdity of pop-culture abnormalities is exposed, and with any luck, explained.

Attempting to seem turned off by a Pastrami on Rye

  Both her talent and fan base are complete mysteries.  In spite of owning a body built for a jumpsuit, she’s earned a nice living, most certainly due to her fantastic personality and clever wit.  Each grunt from her snout and glug from her belly commands the attention of millions of morons, and opens up the wallets of television studio executives.  She could break wind, and has, and her fans would find it refreshing and trendsetting.

  Her on-air battle with Donald Trump from her crushed seat on The View garnered her much attention, but not quite as much as when she decided to go up against the Federal Government.  Armed with her incredible intellect and a bag of beer nuts, she accused former President Bush and his cronies of setting up the whole September 11th disaster, tossing out sinister lies and radical propaganda with the intensity and vigor normally saved for scraping the bottom of an empty bowl of New England clam chowder.  Her devoted fans loved it, setting aside any and all rational thought, chanting “Rosie!” in unison to the delight of their big headed leader.  Like a group orgasm on public display, a Rosie lovefest ensued.

  Claiming to be a “trailblazer” in the lesbian movement sweeping America, her gayness seems to be quite convenient, allowing her to remain in the headlines despite currently having no job, as well as providing a pretext for why no man would ever mount her.  And typical of anyone in any occupation who lacks ability and wants something for nothing, conjuring up some sort of ailment or minority complex will silence any critics and halt any bothersome expectations.  Seems to work well for her.

For Sale- Nicole Ritchie's half eaten corn dog (missing chunk has been retrieved from vomit puddle, available upon request)

  Some people question whether or not it is right for celebrities to sell pictures of their babies to various publications.  Some consider it to be in poor taste, a disgraceful and demeaning act of egotism.  I, on the other hand, believe that not only is it right for celebrities to sell pictures of their babies, it should be required.  But there is no reason to stop there.  Our sad culture has managed to prop up these individuals to resemble mighty gods, and our sad pop-culture fanatics apparently have money to burn on all things celebrity.  Photos, used wet-naps and half eaten soy-based energy bars discarded by the famed are just a few of the items that would fetch top dollar from our over-indulgent, grossly obsessed society.  And the self absorbed luminaries that make their livings off of this sick infatuation should pony up.

  Celebs are not ordinary people, rather, they are individuals who think of themselves in irrational terms.  In order to develop a following of fans, an unusually distorted sense of esteem must first be refined.  The enamored general public are mindless, but not stupid, and unlikely to find fascination in just anyone who happens to walk by.  Only the most pompous will find fame.  These personalities are built over time.  Countless hours spent staring into a mirror, parking in handicap spots and screaming incoherently about George Bush are all proven methods of building one’s image to that of a star.  Repetition fuels reputation, and a growing fan base.

  We hear often of the Hollywood hatred for the slimy paparazzi, a group of photographers who line their pockets by clinging to celebrities like foul smell to a toilet, snapping pictures of the famous at the most inopportune times.  Much noise is made about this behavior, feelings of anger and dispair floating from the lips of the victimized celebs.  But without the paparazzi these celebrities might find themselves in uncomfortable territory.  Alone.  And out of work.

  Imagine if Tom Cruise woke up one morning, looked out from the door of his balcony, and found that no one had ransacked his trash cans.  Imagine if Mr. Cruise walked out to retrieve the newspaper that he pays his hired help to read to him, and there were no cameras documenting his squat.  Imagine his shock if he were to jump up and down on a couch, only to be arrested for destruction of property.  Tom’s agent would most certainly recieve a scathing phone call from his prized client.  Without the paparazzi stalking him, Tom Cruise is no different than you or I, aside from being five feet tall.

  The rubbish taken from the trash cans and sewer pipes of the Hollywood elite usually finds its way to Ebay.  This fuels our economy, creates jobs, and keeps our stars working.  Oprah’s leftover manwich and Ben Aflek’s old underpants may seem disgusting and immaterial, but they have a major impact in many ways on our crumbling culture.

  Fans will do anything to get a piece of, or even a whif of, their beloved heroes.  Standing in long lines, braving extreme temperatures to get a chance look one of their idols is commonplace among the common folk.  Many are willing to shell out obscene amounts of money for news and artifacts derived from glorious movie, television and music stars.  It is the star’s responsibility to flood the marketplace with their trash, photographs and most intimate of items.  It is a win-win for everyone involved.

For Sale- Leftovers from Oprah's breakfast (highest bidder- proceeds benefit Obama campaign)

If you see this on your TV, I am sorry

1. The opening theme song is heard over 70 times in an hour
2. There is a live audience primarily made up of cheering teenagers and their Mothers, and a few Dad’s who are either lost or have severe identity issues
3. There is an overly animated host, a few windbag judges, and some sort of slow, drawn out contestant elimination process
4. Watching it makes you feel kinda gay and ashamed
5. A large number of other people are watching the show too, and they are intent on talking about it the next day to anyone who will listen
6. Someone is singing, hopping, or engaged in some other annoying, inappropriate activity
7. Oprah Winfrey has at some point mentioned being fond of the show, and between chomps of her manwich, has suggested to her minions that they should watch it too because she says so
8. Prior to judges decision, the contestants are forced to stand and wait while dramatic, emotional instrumental music is played, followed by a commercial break
9. People are smiling, and generally happy to be doing whatever it is they are doing, likely because this is the high point of the remainder of their lives
10. Ryan Seacrest

"Where's my other hand?"

Proud of his ridiculous glasses

  The complete package:  limited talent, unlimited wind.  Behind an overpriced pair of gigantic sunglasses lies the mind of a child in the body of an almost man, Kanye West.  Thrust into the spotlight, his immature demeanor and whiny repertoire have served him well, helping him to amass wealth and fame at a period of time when rotteness is accepted as brilliance.  What did we do to deserve this?

  It must be mentioned that Kanye has contributed much money and time to various charities and fund raising events.  This apparently gives him carte blanche to behave like a pubescent meathead.  Whether it’s jumping up and down in anger at award shows that fail to shower him with constant praise,  or dropping racial slurs about an American President who’s spent more money on Africans than any man alive or dead, West can do no wrong.  He’s got the juice.   He’s been granted immunity by the general public from being held accountable for his rantings and poor vocal ability.  Thanks.

  Like many of today’s stars, being an A-hole guarantees a spot on the A-list.  It also secures a long and prosperous career.  The quiet guys and gals, without the army of photographers chasing after them, simply fade away.  There just isn’t a market for someone who sits still and wears reasonably sized apparel.  The timing is perfect for a Kanye West to gain acclaim for his childish antics and stuttering brain burps.  He is a marketing genius. 

  More success is on the way for Kanye.  Soon everyone will be wearing the Kanye clothing line, a collection of dopey outfits and oversized clown shoes.  He is intent on making it as an actor, providing him yet another avenue to shove his face into our lives.  And I hear rumblings about his wishes to jump into politics.  Really man.  Perhaps America can benefit from the bold fresh vision of a hyper-sensitive, infantile revolutionary.  What is clear is that this guy is going nowhere, he’s here to stay, and there is nothing anybody can do about it.  Duck and cover. 

"I pledge free healthcare for everyone, but you gotta pay for my CD's!"

Losing both his shirt and his right to own a penis

  I’m sure that fans of really lame reality TV are happy to know that season 8 of Dancing With The Stars is about to kick off.  And ff season eight is anything like the first seven, then America is in for a real treat.

  Nothing says entertainment like watching a series of has-beens and have-nots perform for peanuts and applause.  I can’t think of a better way to burn a precious hour of my lifetime, and neither can you.  Millions of Americans agree…watching people dance and then react to mundane questioning and a lame judging system is hot.

  The judges, who provide most of the senseless banter for the show, each consider themselves to be experts of dance, and feel compelled to share a critique of each contestant as well offer tips to the stars on how to improve their dance routines.  As the three judges discuss what they’ve seen, wild laughter and obnoxious sounds blurt out of their pie holes, followed by impulsive screams coming from the studio audience that has the misfortune of being there.

  The obvious draw to the show is the dancing.  This is a combination of jumping, hopping, sliding, swinging and spinning.  In general it is a lot of movement.  Stars move their bodies, in theory, to the rhythm of loud music that sombody somwhere has hand picked for the show.

  Lets give it up for the dancers.  Here’s one, an emotional elderly woman who was known by a handful of people about 45 years ago for shaking her chest when it was considered risque.  She’s a star.

  Check this guy out.  He’s a gay singer who enjoyed success in a gay boy band at the end of the previous decade.  Adored by a couple of middle school girls before plumetting into obscurity, he’s a star.

  Once upon a time being branded a star had some merit. Stars were relatively uncommon, as it took the adulation of nearly the entire general public to be considered as such.  Today, to the delight of many who otherwise would have no job or identity, most anyone can claim stardom.  This is a good thing.  With such low expectations of achievement, today’s children stand a great chance of reaching for and grabbing their place among the stars.  And with that, shows like Dancing With the Stars have an infinite supply of morons to choose from.

  Dancing is dumb.  I like to imagine the look on a dancer’s face if suddenly in mid Cha-Cha the power were to go out and the music were to stop.  I would like to see these stars really perform, attempting to look cool as they’re gyrating to no sound at all.

  Clapping is dumb.  Have you ever clapped alone?  There’s a reason for that.  Clapping only takes place among groups of people.  And doing something just because others are doing it is ignorant.

  Standing there waiting for a score is dumb.  I’m not sure why, but it is.

  If you’re looking for a way to burn an hour, and your not intent on learning anything or even enjoying yourself, then I must suggest that you watch Dancing With the Stars.  You’ve got nothing better to do, and finding something better to watch is just not going to happen.

Grading their own insufferable personalities

Fighting for a bag of cornmeal and their dignity

   Survivor continues to be one of the more popular reality series on television.  Sixteen contestants are gathered and taken to a remote destination, and for 39 days they are expected to live together in tribes, compete in various challenges, and gripe about their circumstances.  Viewers get the opportunity to live vicariously through the contestants without actually being subjected to the filth, hardships and human body funk that camping with strangers provides.   

  One million dollars and a couple weeks of stardom are up for grabs, and the last remaining survivor gets the goods.  Along the way, contestants try and outwit, outlast and outplay each other.  Because most of the players are fans of the show and have watched it for years, there are varying strategies employed by many of them.  Some attempt to win the hearts of their tribe-mates by being nice and never saying a bad word about anyone.  A few people believe that working hard and showing leadership qualities is a recipe for success.  But the majority of the contestants swear by the time tested strategy of being annoying, lazy, obnoxious and stinky. 

  Although the interpersonal aspect  of the game has its difficulty, the toughest component the tribes must face are the rigorous physical challenges.  For instance, contestants might be told by the host, Jeff Probst, to walk ten feet while blindfolded, dig a hole, or swim without drowning.  Successful completion of these challenges can be quite fruitful, as some of the rewards include rice, or a shovel.  Typically, the winning tribe will jump around in an act of pride and exuberance, and are all free to remain in their miserable location for another night.  The losing tribe will most often display sadness and grief, blame their loss on one another, and vote to send one of their unlucky members back to the comfort and convenience of a hotel room.   

  Each season winds up with Jeff Probst crowning one person the winner.  This event takes place not in the forest or desert, but on a stage, complete with a phony fire and pretend malaria carrying mosquitoes.  Following two hours of senseless filler and lame contestant memories, the winner’s identity is revealled.  That person is then handed one of those giant, bogus checks, and will be famous for as long as they are wealthy, which generally lasts about 16 to 18 days.  

Digging a hole to hide her dooty

"There's got to be more to life than banging secretaries"

   Revolutionary Road, starring Leonardo DiCapprio and Kate Winslet, is a story about how depressing life can get when you have everything.  A good job, nice house, and children who disappear are not enough for the suffering Wheeler family, and they are determined to change things.

  The Wheelers are a suburbanite family living in 1950′s Connecticut, at a period when men wore fedoras to work, which is where they smoked many cigarettes and secretaries.  This was also a time when women wore aprons at home, where they vacuumed carpet and dusted light bulbs.  In spite of living this “American dream”, they long for a life in France.  Their risky plan is for April Wheeler, a struggling and rather ungifted amateur actress, to support her family by bombing on the European stage.  Frank Wheeeler, as if his life couldn’t get any better, would then be free to sit at home and read books.  A satisfying delusion indeed.

   The friends, co-workers and neighbors of the Wheelers find this to be a sad proposition.  They all love and envy the promising couple, but wish death on their ambitions.  Meanwhile, the Wheelers find the whole thing to be hillarious, and they giggle and grunt passionately about the possible riches and fame they’ll achieve in the future.

  All of their dreams are dashed with the revelation that April is pregnant.  The possibility of this new child not routinely vanishing as their other two children did was a definite obstacle.  April had plans to abort the child and live out her aspirations, but Frank was having none of that.  With his recent promotion at work, he stood to make at least an additional $12 a week, and he would remain the sole bread winner of his family. 

  In her attempt to mend her crumbling dream, April decided to take things into her own hands.  Just as soon as she cleaned up the kitchen, she went into the bathroom and aborted her child.  She then walked over to her front window and bled on the carpet.  She later died.  Frank freaked out a little, but he then got over it.  The neighbors did not get over it though, particularly the guy next door, who lost not only a friend but a diversion from his uptight, plain looking wife. 

Douchebag

  Possibly the most puzzling paradox known to mankind is the rise to prominence of Tom Cruise.  If ever there were a symbol of the decomposition of the fundamental principles that this proud nation was built on, it would be the reverence and adoration bestowed by the public onto the goofy face and lame character of Mr. Cruise.  His financial success is both baffling and discouraging, and a slap in the face to each and every good hearted, well intentioned, hard working American male.

  He first burst onto the scene during the eighties, sliding across the floor in only his socks, a shirt and panties.  His now famous air guitar routine must have made an impression on various movie studio executives, as his career seemed to take off after that.  Several profitable movies followed, and with them, numerous awards and media handjobs.  Against incredible odds, this five-foot pansy duped the world and created for himself a pseudo-persona of a hot guy with mad skills.  And America, at least the chicks, bought it.

  For a number of years, at some point each and every day I would break down and cry about this travesty of justice.  I truly felt as if I was the only person alive that could see through the legend and spot the true turd hidden behind his malignant smile and confident strut.  My stomach would turn with every flash of those white-washed choppers.  I routinely cursed the day that this douchebag came into my life.

  Then, one day, it all changed.  Maybe it was the way he suddenly embraced Scientology, a loony religion developed by and for people of ridiculous fame.  Maybe it was when he dumped his second wife for the hand of a teenager.  Maybe it was the childish couch jumping episode on Oprah, where he declared his love for the teenager.  Whatever it was, in the eyes of the general public, his arrogance and self centered ways had caught up with him.  His golden boy image was tarnished, and the ceremonious treatment he enjoyed from the media began to dissolve.  And much like Michelle Obama, I was finally proud of my country.

  Nowadays it’s hard to find a Tom Cruise fan.  Guys generally consider him a dork, and girls tend to find his unsavory love life rather offensive.  Recently there have been rumors floating around that imply Mr. Cruise may possibly be gay.  I’ve seen footage of him on the red carpet being squirted with water to the face, which prompted him to whine like a baby.  And there are an assortment of sites on the web that scrutinize his every move, highlighting the absurdities of this lousy human being.  The destructive fall from grace of Tom Cruise has undoubtedly been the most entertaining thing he has ever done.  Can’t wait for the sequel.

If you’re interested in learning more about the magnificent Cruise, I must suggest you check out http://www.tomcruiseisnuts.com/ .  You’ll be happy you did.