The media has been hounding me all month. They simply refuse to wait until I emerge from my ’68 Chevy Nova and appear on the red carpet to discover how I constructed the delivery of my feigned self. People need to know what is going to happen before it happens so they can plan the appropriate, socially acceptable reaction. Look around to see if other people like it before smiling with acceptance or scoffing in disgust. No sense being an individual. The stars are on display to be judged, praised and ridiculed to the extent of which contemporary, ephemeral standards of eminence allow, from their garments, hair style and choice of escorts to the manner in which they attempt careen above the rest. The efforts behind whatever achievement they hope to be served are secondary to the pose they’ve molded from the compost of insecurity laced vanity that crams their minds.
And those of us who care about all this are just as decayed inside, or worse. These stars are entertainers, after all. Paid by us to entertain us. Hardly more worthy of the magnificence the term “star” affords than anybody else we pay to help us survive. Yet, we allow them to wear this banner of brilliance even though their service to us is no different than the other servants we let. The fast food worker thanks US when serving us our fries and hopes to provide services again to us in the future (whether the "Come again" plea is sincere or not). Shouldn't these actors be thanking us in a similar fashion, instead of pompously honoring themselves behind masks of grandiose insignificance? Yes, but we lick their bottoms, nonetheless. Should we not also lick the plumber’s, garbage man’s and feet scraper’s bottoms? The good ones shine in their own way, but nobody cares what they are wearing when they accept their employee of the month gift cards.
This ruptured value perspective disgusts me. I have figuratively brought myself to a state of internal vermin with this discussion. Consequently, I choose not to be a red carpet star tonight. Instead, I will watch the Blackhawks play ice hockey. But, I also understand that high fashion is an important component in our society, so I won’t let you down. Here is who I will be wearing.
Champion (Authentic Athletic Apparel) – dark blue Toledo Rockets long sleeve tee.
Levi’s – 501 Button fly jeans (women hate dealing with the buttons which is the ONLY reason I never get laid).
Hanes – ankle high white socks.
New Balance – 479 All Terrain shoes
Fruit of the Loom – jockey type grundies – black (it is a formal affair, after all)