Paying the Piper

Americans are a funny breed. And when I say funny I don't mean the wonderful belly-laugh kind of funny, although that is true for some; unabashedly peculiar is more to the point.

I say this with a modicum of affection because, despite having grown up in three distinctly different cultures, I am decidedly American. But the affection I have for peculiarities that are inherently American run only so deep; what I dislike about Americans are generally the very things I despise about myself.

One of the peculiarities I loathe is the love / hate relationship we have with celebrities which totters as precariously as do the celebrities upon the pedestals we place them. We, as a culture, thrive on gossip; even those of us who swear we're above such low-brow behavior have a soft spot in our hearts for those moments of self-righteousness. We love to build people up, get them comfortable on their perch before either taking a sledgehammer and slowly chipping at that which holds them up so they eventually go tumbling to the ground, head over feet, in the most undignified manner possible, or simply sit back, apathetic, and watch them destroy themselves only to utter I told you so after all is said and done.

Either way brings about the same results. And nowhere can this been seen better than in the Britney Spears, Paris Hiltons, and Anna Nicole Smiths of this world. Do we really care whether Britney is wearing underwear, who Paris has sex with, or which man is the father of Anna Nicole's baby? Does any of it have bearing on the lives we choose to lead? Will their choices color our own decisions? Perhaps in superficial ways they might; if nothing else we use them as descriptions of how not to act - but when it comes down to matters of importance, the role celebrities play in our lives is slim to none, which leads me to question our collective behavior where celebrities are concerned; if what they do has no bearing on our daily lives then what's the point of being malicious and smug?