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Fame and celebrity are two things that most of us dream about.  Pop-culture has always revolved around people and interesting things that they’re up to.  Just like culture itself and especially, ever-so evolving pop-culture, it is very difficult to define what constitutes of people and people’s lives.  We all have different pursuits, be it artistic ones or science-oriented ones… In America we pay a lot of attention to movie stars, supermodels, politicians and musicians.  We are concerned with the way they dress and what they have to say.  Perhaps it’s their constant exposure in media that makes us feel as if we deserve and should know what is happening in the world of rich and famous.


Lots of non-famous people are simply interested in the lives of celebrities because it gives them break from their own sometimes boring and monotonous lives to follow others’ pursuits.  Truthfully, who would care about some 23-year old’s wedding or the fact that she bought a house or the fact that she went to a convenient store shoeless. Of course, if that 23-year old is Britney Spears things are different – all of the sudden her actions become worthy of interest and exposure and of our constant attention. 

Although I rarely buy them, I frequently look through tabloids an am always fascinated to see pictures of Madonna eating, Prince scratching his head, Mick Jagger in leather pants drinking beer, Kevin Costner bloated like beach whale making out with his teenage sweetheart on a balcony.  Who cares, right?  No one gives a damn about me eating a sandwich or gaining or losing three pounds but the world can’t get enough of Britney doing exactly the same.

Some of my friends make fun of me for being such a loser and finding these things fascinating and I tell them that it’s simply my human nature to be interested in this and in the gossip that surrounds it.  My male friends claim that this is only a girl’s hang-up that they don’t really have any interest in things like that but watch them drool over some football player’s fantastic catch or throw and try to find an excuse for that.  There are millions of teenagers across American high school football fields doing the same thing but they don’t get paid millions of dollars, they’re not on TV and their cheerleaders are not ex-Playboy bunnies. 

I wish I’d spend more time learning about history or car maintenance rather than blocking my brain with Jessica Simpson’s married life or Paris Hilton on-the-road adventures, I really do.  I think I am somewhat addicted to watching Courtney Love’s car wreck of a life, secretly thinking, thank god this isn’t me, thank god I can go to a store to get a bottle of liquor, gee, even expose my breasts at a party and nobody will care.  So there are two sides to celebrity, of course.  The famous punch out paparazzi, spit on  nosy journalists, invest fortune in barricading themselves in their mansions just to get some privacy.  They wear stupid hats, wigs, conceal themselves in track pants and shopping at Wal-Mart and dream about being anonymous again.  I, and some of my friends, on the other hand, fantasize sometimes about giving out autographs and eating caviar for free.