I saw it coming.
While getting my hair done just a few days before the fateful Jan. 7, I was reading an article out loud to my hairstylist about the mysterious absence of Jennifer Aniston's wedding ring. My hairstylist sucked her teeth, shaking her head with visible disdain over hearing the personal details of another's marriage. "Do you want me to stop?" I asked.
"Oh, no, no, babe! Keep reading! I mean, it's sad, but no, keep reading." As I obliged, I discovered that Brad had spent his 41st birthday apart from Jen, his wife of four years - and that I had no morals.
I was becoming the unapologetic product of a culture submerged in the lives of others.
Cultural theorists reason that America's fascination with celebrities is due to our lack of an active monarchy to admire - or ruthlessly pick apart. Thus, we dream of dancing on tables with Paris Hilton or boning the entire cast of "That '70s Show" - because, seemingly, our democratic governmental system wouldn't have it any other way.
But I beg to differ: I believe that the rapid pace at which entertainment news is fed to us nowadays is what beats pop culture into our heads and amplifies its significance to disproportionate heights.
Which explains why I think I need a Flavor Flav ring tone or a play-by-play of the food Mary-Kate has consumed in the past week.
Media produces and manipulates consumers' desires that vanish as quickly as they do come. Why make the kids of Laguna Beach celebrities? Why zoom in on Beyonce's taut abdomen and Versace dress in a video? Why gasp when we see Britney walk into a gas station bathroom barefoot? Simply put, it really is all about the "bling-bling."
At one time, we could simply rely on E! to provide us salacious details of celebs' indiscretions, but almost every TV network has milked that proverbial cow. Once the home of videos for the middle-age/John Mellencamp fanbase, VH1 now appeals to the common man's desire to be a rock star. I mean, what exactly is the purpose of marathons of the show "The Fabulous Life of..." if not to simply lend a measure of significance to otherwise superficial aims?
But our fascination with the lives of glossy strangers holds semiotic value that is often overlooked. I say this not to justify the barrage of Us Weeklys scattered about my apartment, but rather to point out that if we look closer, pop phenomenons such as "Bennifer" are bred from a greater void in our own lives. With a shaky economy, a dubious ass for a president, and a debased war raging on, who wants to acknowledge reality? Why not exist, if only for a moment, in a world where the parties never stop, the champagne flows heavy, and rarely anyone's out of work?
Though everyone in his or her right mind knows this world to be a mere façade, one fundamentally constructed upon the idea of projecting phoniness, we still cling to it. We familiarize ourselves with the factoids, the opulence, and the drama - so much so that the lives of entertainers no longer feel foreign, but are familiar to us.
Which is why the demise of Brad and Jen's perfect marriage affected us so strongly: it's like, "If Brad and Jen can't make it, then, well, damn...." As one friend puts it, our interest reflects a microcosm of human relations. As she reasons, pop culture is, if anything, the female equivalent to watching sports: there is nothing really in it for the viewer, but you still root for certain folks and wish the failure of others.
So don't be embarrassed by taking sides in the Brad-Jen-Angelina love triangle - but then again, don't be too surprised if your kids one day ask you the age-old question, "Where were you when Brad and Jen broke up?"
Marjon Carlos '05 needs a soldier.
