THE COST OF POP STAR MAINTENANCE

To a large extent, we must get the world we create. Our culture is obsessed with celebrity. I am as guilty as anyone. I love to talk, joke and watch vicariously as these sad car pop art car wrecks roam about our world. I think some how it is easier and much more fun to digest than the real news of our world.

News like the fact that if you read between the lines of mainstream media translates to the fact that our president’s administration is leading a war that is far worse than any level of terrorism. Actually, the United States might as well be considered a terrorist.

When I look at the news or think about the state of things for us in the United States I just get tired. From this tragic war to the state of poverty to poor health care to the glass ceiling that is next to impossible to break thru unless you happen to be a wealthy white man. It just makes me tired.

Yesterday a person with a sign asked me if I supported our troops. I wanted to cop a line from Sandra Bernhard and say, “Yes, I support our troops. I support them so much I want them to come the fuck home!” I do not support this war in any way. But, I ignored her and allowed my mind to get soaked up by the pop music streaming from my iPod to block this war monger out. I also decided she probably was a right-wing anti-choice person. But, I didn’t really know that. Of course she was persistent. She followed me and screamed, “Do you ever thank our troops for what they do and sacrifice?” I so wanted to turn and say, “No. I will not thank them. I am sorry for them. But, how can I thank someone for being a part of something that is so wrong? And, why would I thank them for sacrificing themselves to tear up a country for more power, oil and greed?”

But, I was far too apathetic to respond. Not enough energy.

I recently saw a picture which was a part of an art exhibition where individuals had been given a piece of paper and were instructed to write a thought about the current war we wage. One of the people had a piece of paper upon which she wrote something like, “Why is it that the Red States think differently from everyone else in the entire world?”

Of course I know that this post will generate very little discussion. In fact, I will be able to note that it will receive very few visits as my other posts — nearly all of which are about my misadventures or pop star obsessions. And, I understand. I’d rather read something witty about Britney Spears’ sad and fucked-up life. In fact, I am addicted to that sick site run by Perez Hilton. Early this morning a dozen LAPD cop cars escorted an ambulance containing the pop mess that is Britney to a hospital where she is to be committed for the next 72 hours for observation. Word is that Britney hasn’t slept in three days and is mentally ill as a result. Of course, I can’t even get Kaiser to provide me with a therapist much less an escort.

Anyway, as I read this bit of useless and very private information about this very wealthy and unstable pop star — I had to wonder: How much does it cost me as a California tax payer to maintain Ms. Spears? All this constant need for the LAPD time and man power. Shouldn’t Ms. Spears be billed for the LAPD time vs. the cost being charged to me? But, then, maybe I should pay. Perhaps this only a fraction of the price one pays for apathy, and entertainment which provides such great fodder for “the water cooler” and my blog. Tax dollars well spent to maintain a pop train wreck waiting to happen.

So, I roll over and press “play”

“It’s Britney, bitch.
Everytime they turn the lights down
Just wanna go that extra mile for you
(Pu- Pu-) Public display of affection
Feel’s like no one else in the room but you

We can get down like there’s no-one around
We keep on rockin’
We keep on rockin’

Cameras are flashing my way
dirty dance
And they keep watchin’
Keep watchin
Feels like the crowd is saying

[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more…”

Yeah, give me some more. I guess. Ignore the rest. Paying the price…

January 31, 2008. Tags: , , , , , , . Uncategorized. 10 comments.