The Global Village

You know celebrity is an interesting thing. Why are we so interested in their lives, what they wear, who they sleep with? What gives them their “power?” I mean you have to admit we live in a celebrity obsessed culture. Look at all the tabloids in the checkout of your local grocery store, if you don't believe me.

John Cleese posited an explanation in his television special The Human Face. Basically he said we are designed by evolution to live in small groups, numbering five hundred or so. In our not too distant insular agrarian past we knew every one around us. Famous people in the village were those that had accomplished something. They were warriors, healers, prophets, and kings. Everyone knew their face.

Now we live in megalopolises numbering tens of millions of people. The endless procession of faces we see everyday are, for the most part, anonymous, with out a name or story attached to them. We feel a profound lack of connection to the swirl of humanity that besets us.

But we all know who Brad Pitt is.

He is just a guy who works in the movies but many of us know more about him than about our next door neighbor. We may not know squat about the guy sitting next to us on the subway but we will both know who Brad is. That, in a funny way, connects us. Cleese is basically saying that celebrities, by the virtue of their being seen in the media, fulfill a basic human longing for connection in the global village. We all know them and, by that, they connect us to each other. They cut through the anonymity. That’s what gives them power.

Of course that perceived power is all out of whack when compared against reality. A celebrity, if he or she is smart, realizes that people recognize their persona, their act, and not them. They realize fame is fickle and try and stay grounded in the real day to day experience we all inhabit. They know they are not warriors, prophets and kings – just people whose job puts their faces on the screen. Those who believe their own PR end up in trouble. Think Elvis. Think Michael Jackson.

So what does all this have to do with my stupid blog? I’ll tell you.

Last night I went out to eat in NYC. At the table to my right sat an obnoxious, business-suit-clad lawyer-type who kept snapping his fingers to get the waiter. He kept asking the wait staff “Do you know who I am?” Probably a minor so and so with an equally minor company. He is a part of the great huddled masses. Just like me. Suffice to say people who are not famous like to make the wait staff think they are.

As I'm fantasizing about killing the dildo who's barking orders at everyone, I look up and Alec Baldwin is standing in the doorway. Holy Shit.

He is with his brother Steven Baldwin, significant others in tow. First off let me tell you Alec really is a handsome devil. It’s a cliché, I know, but he is a lot taller in person than on screen. Alas, they had only one table; between the ladies room and the kitchen next to the register. It’s the worst table in the house. Alec, ever polite, takes it happily. He orders off the menu, says please and thank you, tips well, and thanks the kitchen staff on the way out. He is a perfect gentleman. This guy has his head on straight.

So basically my long winded post comes down to this. If these “famous people” can eat in a restaurant without being an entitled obnoxious prick why can’t you? Don’t get caught up in the seduction of celebrity. It’s an illusion. Just be happy to be you.

Now shut the fuck up and eat your food.

And Alec, if you're reading this, I expect payment shortly...