Work in progress

Just as I am a work in progress by God, this blog is a work in progress by me. Difference is...I'm still learnin'...

Thursday, February 26, 2004

Dear Entertainment Industry


I’m shocked. No, no, no…not by the boob thing. One more publicity ploy from your ranks does not shock me. Many of you seem to be deluded by the belief that entertainment equals pushing the envelope and offending many of those paying your bills. The prevailing notion of Hollyworld, from those who have reached a maturity level above the prepubescent stage, is one of a place where people sell their souls for the pursuit of happiness. This is your choice and you’re entitled.


I’m not shocked that no one is to blame, either. CBS isn’t to blame. HBO isn’t to blame. The NFL isn’t to blame. And Janet and Justin aren’t to blame either, they’re just victims of a “wardrobe malfunction.” I suppose the conflicting stories emanating from the publicists can be blamed on CYA and somewhere down the line, I’m sure the Democrats will find a way to blame GWB.


I’m not shocked that my seventeen-year-old son came home from school with the news that Janet’s boob was the subject of the day. That was the point, wasn’t it? With a new CD coming out soon, a has-been must do something to get the public’s attention off her brother and onto herself. Look at Madonna. She’s not only reinvented her persona by speaking with a British accent and writing children’s books, she’s making out with girls young enough to be her daughters. Now there’s diversity for ya. Rule #1 from the ‘How to Sell Your Soul for Celebrity’ guide might just be: Give them something to talk about and they’ll spend their hard earned money on you. So, it’s understandable and not at all shocking.


No, none of the above shocked me in the least. What did shock me was the fact that many across America were shocked out of complacency by a boob. Did they not notice that the entire halftime debacle was a tribute to sexual orgies that would rival the Romans? Did they not notice that the background ‘dancers’ were not so much dancing as enjoying foreplay. Roseanne Barr once grabbed her crotch and became a national pariah. Nelly and P. Didd(l)y acted as though their penis’ might become disengaged if they did not hold on tight and not a word is said. Janet, your boob will live on in infamy. Aren’t you proud? “Here lies Janet Jackson. She was (literally) boob for the day.”


You plastic people are quick to blame America for all the ails of the world. It could be a side effect of Botox or you may actually be on to something. For most of the world, their view of America comes straight from the entertainment industry. Is it possible the world believes all of our teenagers are self-absorbed brats as shown the “Real World”? Do they liken our female population to the whores from “Sex in the City?” Possibly they view our men as perpetual horn dogs as portrayed in either of the above.


Many of you are decrepit has-beens with plastic bodies sucking hard earned money from the poor and oppressed while you live in decadence rivaled only by the corporate moguls you are so quick to condemn for their greed. If your industry would donate only the money you spend on plastic surgery to the poor in this country, it’s quite possible there would be no poor in this country. You sell your souls for fifteen minutes of fame, and attempt to convince the rest of the world that souls do not exist. It appears you are attempting to bring society down to a level not seen since the days of Sodom and Gomorrah. You condemn the corporate moguls in this country that worship the almighty dollar, when you yourselves will stoop to any level to reap your own George Washington’s.


It is a fact that Nietszche is in the grave. No one has proven the same of God. If He is indeed up there, keeping an eye on things, He is not blaming MTV either. He’s not blaming the NFL, the FCC or CBS. He’s blaming each and every individual that makes the choice to sell everything that they know to be right, for the chance to be rich and famous and thumb their noses at the repressed prudes across the globe.


Pat yourselves on the back, oh ye Plastic Ones. You’ve cornered the market on sleaze. Kinda gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling, doesn’t it?