-or- loving the lascivious
Day in, day out. The flood continues.
And the bile rises.
The cover of magazines, newspapers, news programs, the front page of the internet (depending on what your home page is), and even dedicated television programs. Celebrity news. We can't seem to get away from it. Our obsession with celebrities continues to increase, seemingly exponentially, while the collective cultural IQ plummets.
I for one am getting downright sick of it.
While there are still real works of art out there, it seems our culture seeks more for the grime. We cast aside that which is chaste because we find it boring. Relishing the gossip: who is sleeping with whom, who isn't sleeping with whom, what are they wearing, listening to, eating, and how they wipe their backside.
We feed into it. Snatching gossip rags off the rack in the grocery store, tuning in "tonight" to catch the "inside" scoop on the "extra" juicy news. Award shows, self-congratulatory sessions of celebrity onanism, become the talk of the town. Who won, what did they wear and who did they come with.
Why do we care?
Some may chalk it up to escapism. If that is the escape I would hate to see just how hollow the real life is. I enjoy being entertained just as much as anyone. I enjoy some television, a good movie now and then, and as much music as my life will allow. But I just don't see anything redeeming in relishing in the lives of those on the other side of the medium. Ego-inflated to the point of no return, we continue to feed the celebrity machine with our time, our money, and even perhaps our dreams.
In each of us is a spark, a light that wants something more. Don't ignore that spark. Don't bury it in the filth of juicy gossip, silencing it with the refuse of a wasted life. Reach higher. Celebrate the good, not the inane. Embrace the sublime, not the salacious.
We owe it to ourselves.