Today I looked at the headlines and realized that a profound change has come to America. No longer satisfied to lead the world in innovation and productivity and creative genius, we now have Captured the Flag in global narcissistic feeding at the fountain of celebrity. It is not something of which to be proud. I am filled with a profound sense of despair for our country, as I look over what passes for news on this dreary October day.
Jon Gosselin, [whose name no one should ever have heard in a rational universe,] is an international celebrity, who is being sued by the very network that put him on the pedestal in the first place. His completely dysfunctional family has not only not hidden their very personal and private problems from the glare of international attention, they have persisted, actually insisted, on playing out their entire drama on the cover of People magazine and TMZ.
Whether or not their marriage was doomed from the start should not be the topic of the world's interest, when sixteen little eyes and ears are wide open and listening. Call me old fashioned, but I think there are some things best left unsaid. Pretty much anything Jon or Kate have to say falls into that category, if you want my opinion.
One might think that the many political crises currently under way would dominate the political news of the day. Health care reform? War? Disease? Economic meltdown on a scale not seen since the Great Depression? Insignificant, when compared to the sudden realization by the media and the political machines of both major parties, not to mention the American public, that John McCain's attractive 24 year old daughter has cleavage.
Well. Stop. The. Presses.
The fact that the latest controversy-that-isn't was sparked by a self-posted picture that is more modest than half the outfits I see in church these days doesn't give me a whole lot of confidence that our politicians have their eye on the right ball. Seriously, can we redirect our attention to something more important than what kind of push up bra a rich and foolish girl might be wearing at home?
Next up, we have the six year old who was, then wasn't, in his family's hot air balloon flying 7000 feet above Terra Firma. While I'm sure the saga itself was gripping to those who have absolutely nothing more pressing to do, it is the aftermath that has gone completely viral, as the entire world weighed in on whether or not the family did this as a publicity stunt, and what kind of parents they are, anyway.
Update: Turns out it was a publicity stunt, after all, which just makes my point even more effectively. If we, the world at large, had not given his parents the platform from which to make this ridiculous stunt a world-wide happening, by paying far too much attention to something that should have been of local interest, at the most, they would never have done this in first place. That would have saved tens of thousands of dollars, not to mention police and volunteer man hours and resources, which could have been used for a more appropriate purpose. But just wait, I predict this is not over yet, because you know there will be a book deal and a reality telelvision show in it for someone.
On a side note, I glanced at some comments following a brief article on CNN, and the number of people pontificating on how parents SHOULD carry out their duties was stupefying. You would certainly think there was never a child with a broken arm, or a bean up their nose, or a penny down their throat (my own personal debacle,) that didn't come with an abusive failure of a parent.
Here's a flash for all the back seat parents out there. It's not as easy as it looks. I would match up a creative three year old against a tired parent any day, and I wouldn't bet against the kid.
Apparently those who were commenting have never, for even an instant, allowed their six year old out of their sight. That explains the parents who are following their children to job interviews, I guess. Personally, when I heard about it, I was just glad that it wasn't my kid, because then I didn't have to decide whether to hug him or kill him for scaring me that way.
I am fascinated, in a way, by the ravenous desire for celebrity that our culture appears to have spawned. I remember a time, it doesn't seem that long ago, when you didn't talk about your family's dirty laundry in public. These days, you are not only talking about it, you wear it out for everyone to see, via your facebook, your blog, your twitter account, or on You Tube. There is no stupid act that cannot be exploited, no foolish moment that cannot be replayed endlessly, for the merriment and lucrative return on the few seconds of posting time investment.
I have begun to wonder over the last couple of months whether the name of my blog is fair to apply to my life. Since Elizabeth Edwards made a fortune, and the cover of People magazine, on the shifting sands of her husband's faithless actions, I am not so sure any more that I was ever lost in Springer-land at all.
If I dropped in from outer space and read the headlines today, I would think I must have found a perfect world, because certainly there are no real problems in a place where Anna Nicole Smith's addictive habits are leading the headlines two years after she died from an obvious overdose. (I mean, seriously, we all knew the day she died that she overdosed. The only thing that sets her apart from every other anonymous addict who dies from going to the well once too often is the fact that she stripped naked for Playboy magazine, which is where her saga really begins.)
It's an interesting new reality when my life, a soap opera if ever there was one, looks tame in comparison to what is hitting the headlines on an hourly basis in our 24/7 news cycle. I am left wondering why Lindsey Lohan going to court once again is more interesting, or more important, than the details of the health care bill about to be foisted on us, which may or may not cover everyone or anyone, and will cost either more or less than the current system, but we can't agree about that, either. Maybe it's just me, but I don't get it.
I am not sure that a country which considers anything Levi Johnston does to be noteworthy is really eligible for the moral high ground, telling the rest of the world how it should conduct itself, but we persist in doing it, anyway. There is something rather strange and pathetic about the pot calling the kettle black, especially when we are sitting in the middle of the fire while we do it.
I say it's time to step away from the intoxicating trough, and work through the hangover until we are sober again. If we fail to pull this country back to the brink of sanity and fix the real problems in which we are engulfed, we will deserve what we get. Of course, it's our grandchildren that will have to live with it if we fail in our obligation to future generations. In the end, it is they, not we, who will pay the price for our inattention now.
Nero fiddled while Rome burned. For us, it's a coyote running away with a dog named Daisy. But the downfall will look the same in the end.
