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Автор: JulyGarden 4 января 2008 Комментарии: 0 Просмотров: 1220    
Friday, January 04, 2008

The revolution will not be televised
Current mood: eh
Category: eh Music

A while ago I just stopped reading tabloids.
I don't mean just the newspapers like the 'Hate' Mail in London or News of the World.
I stopped looking online.
I stopped reading the gossip sites, the paparazzi havens. The juicy chain emails that went around the music and entertainment industry. I stopped being sucked in to it.

It's funny because in the past I would justify it by maybe buying the odd gossip rag when I was on a long haul flight. But never in my home. You'd never see copies of the gossip rags in my house. But I'd read them if someone left them around. Or devour them at a photoshoot out of sheer boredom. And then years later it turned into mindlessly following link after link of bullshit online trash when I couldn't sleep at 3 in the morning.

It wasn't subscribing to the gutter press.
I was just, sorta, a casual bystander, right?

But the day I stopped doing that was quite simply the day I received a bunch of articles, sent to me, about me. They were mean, they were inaccurate and just plain spiteful. I'd gone from a member of the audience to an actor in the worst trashy soap of all time : the tabloid. For the first time in my public life I saw first hand what it felt like to be the subject of venom.

So I stopped subscribing to it.
Literally because I didn't want to accidently run into one of those articles and have it ruin my day.
But the unexpected upside was, I felt like a weight of bullshit was just lifted off my shoulders.

The day I turned my back on the dealer, I got a lot more than just
protection of fragile lead singer ego.

I didn't care to know who was sleeping with who.
Or who'd had botox.
I didn't know who's movie was flopping.
Who'd been arrested.
Who'd won a grammy.

And then I didn't care what people said about me. Or didn't say.

The only gossip I got was sort of accidental.
And it felt good.

So today, I got one of those accidental pieces of hideous gossip.

I'm at home doing some work emails and my gorgeous friend pops up on I.M and says 'Britney had another meltdown'.


Oh Britney. Right. She's still our entertainment even when she's not entertaining.

Show me. Tell me. Google me.

So I did.
And there she was, like our generation's Frances Farmer - being taken away in a stretcher. Being sectioned. Having her dignity and her mental breakdown cut up into bite sized chunks to be spread all over the world for us to digest and cast judgement on.

Now I don't know this lady.
But I know what depression looks like.
And I've seen post natal doldrums.
And all I could think of was how absolutely mortifying it must be for her children to be at the centre of all this flesh eating consumerism of meltdown as entertainment. And how they might feel about us all one day if their mother isn't around anymore.

It's lame I know.
And it's unoriginal.
I'm a hypocrite because I'm on the bandwagon and I'm saying jump off it.
But this isn't about celebrity.
It's about social values.

When did we become a society that held fame up as being more important than humanitarianism?
And when did it become permissible to not only watch the fall of another and do nothing to help, but to actually film it, record it, send it, upload it, profit from it, digest it, comment on it, sell it, judge it, enjoy it?

What does this say about us as a culture?

My hands feel a bit dirtier tonight.


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