There's a great site called Dropping Knowledge that is gathering thinkers from around the world to consider the big questions--global warming, the most dangerous keepers of nuclear weapons, organized religion as the root of evil--that invites your participation. It's a great place to go to lift your mind from the muck and mire of Hollywood gossip, Dubya's antics, and the like.
Before going there, though, here's a thought about Paris, Britney, Lindsay, Anna Nicole. Today I feel for them. The girls have been Grinched. In fact, they are Grinches. They are our sun-dried, bleached-out, bald-headed, eating-disordered, drug-abusing, who-needs-undies repositories of every bad day the rest of us ever had. We love to hate them, to judge them, to diagnose their maladies, to shudder at the sight of their commodified bods--and then we leer. We ogle. We want it, and we look as long as we can at these rich girls while we wait to unload our groceries onto the conveyor belt.
They're bad, they're dumb, they're limited, and we love it because we never would have made their mistakes if we faced the same pressure, the same public scrutiny, the same uncertainty...and we certainly wouldn't turn drying out into a photo op. We have slutty and slim, foolish and fat, saccharine and superficial, and just plain lost--and they all put out. How we hate that and crave that and feel so relieved it's them and not us reminding the world that life ain't perfect even if you have it all. We're a smug bunch as we objectify our own shortcomings and do with these objects what we will.
They are the year-round Grinches. Recall that moment when the Grinch (Jim Carrey) goes off on all of Whoville for the hypocrisy of its citizens, its game of caring and sharing--a game that robs Christmas of meaning. He tells them he could hang himself with all the Christmas neckties they toss into the landfill. And what about the pony we ride twice and then send off to the glue factory? Indeed, one man's garbage is another's potpourri. He calls them out, telling them they blame him for their own emptiness. You don't have to be green to be a Grinch. You can be blond. Or anything else.
I hope you enjoy Dropping Knowledge. It represents tremendous faith in humanity.
Before going there, though, here's a thought about Paris, Britney, Lindsay, Anna Nicole. Today I feel for them. The girls have been Grinched. In fact, they are Grinches. They are our sun-dried, bleached-out, bald-headed, eating-disordered, drug-abusing, who-needs-undies repositories of every bad day the rest of us ever had. We love to hate them, to judge them, to diagnose their maladies, to shudder at the sight of their commodified bods--and then we leer. We ogle. We want it, and we look as long as we can at these rich girls while we wait to unload our groceries onto the conveyor belt.
They're bad, they're dumb, they're limited, and we love it because we never would have made their mistakes if we faced the same pressure, the same public scrutiny, the same uncertainty...and we certainly wouldn't turn drying out into a photo op. We have slutty and slim, foolish and fat, saccharine and superficial, and just plain lost--and they all put out. How we hate that and crave that and feel so relieved it's them and not us reminding the world that life ain't perfect even if you have it all. We're a smug bunch as we objectify our own shortcomings and do with these objects what we will.
They are the year-round Grinches. Recall that moment when the Grinch (Jim Carrey) goes off on all of Whoville for the hypocrisy of its citizens, its game of caring and sharing--a game that robs Christmas of meaning. He tells them he could hang himself with all the Christmas neckties they toss into the landfill. And what about the pony we ride twice and then send off to the glue factory? Indeed, one man's garbage is another's potpourri. He calls them out, telling them they blame him for their own emptiness. You don't have to be green to be a Grinch. You can be blond. Or anything else.
I hope you enjoy Dropping Knowledge. It represents tremendous faith in humanity.
4 Comments
You're right again! Dropping Knowledge is cool.
ReplyDeleteParis, Britney and Lindsay are not. (I exclude Anna Nicole since she was kept stupid by a mean mother, who herself could be a PP, described below.)
Another classification of Grinch, as Panderer to the Proletariat or something, might be headed by Rosie O'Donnell. There might also be Associate Members - basically good folks who occasionally become Grinchy.
Yeah, I wouldn't say cool but useful. Paris reminds me of a cousin who always seemed to be detecting a bad smell somewhere.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the read. Trying to works out my grinches. Sure they are there flying their flags, and must admit I take a peak at Paris's latest antics while waiting in the supermarket queue. What I admire about her is she comes back smiling again and again. To hold your head high no matter what comes your way does take strength.
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by. I admire the bounce-back-ability of these folks. My husband saw your comment and remarked that it's easy to bounce when you land on a mattress stuffed with millions. That sparked a conversation about how the public tends not to focus on money but character. An example would be the fear that Carl Pavano will embarrass New York by being a cry-baby, not that he will not live up to his salary. Interesting. You got us thinking!
ReplyDeleteThanks for being here.