We'll Idolize Celebrities, But Only On Our Terms

If you've ever made the mistake of tuning into Showbiz Tonight, or clicking to see highlights online, then you've been subjected to A.J. Hammer and his "panel" of apparent showbiz experts analyzing the day's celebrity "news".

Their most recent topic was Brangelina...oh, look what I did, I did showbiz speak. What I meant was, their topic was Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie revealing "too much" about their child rearing tribulations.

On Oprah, when asked how fatherhood's changed him, Brad said, "I'm impervious to poop, snot, urine, I'm ah---vomit" and served up other "precious" gems. TMI or cute? Panel decision: cute! But Angelina's discussion of her breastfeeding trials with a British journalist, including a very innocent reference to the "football hold"? TMI! The panel then goes on to disparage Brad and Angelina for not having a team of people to whisk away the vomit, poop, etc. God forbid Brad and Angelina actually deal with these things for themselves! And how dare Angelina breastfeed? Surely she can afford formula, and a nursemaid to give serve it up?

The celebrity machine has put Brad, Angelina, and countless others up on an absurdly high pedestal, simply because they chose to be actors/singers/what have you. Once up there, being only human, some celebrities are going to embrace celebrityhood, for good or ill. Some, like Angelina and Brad, whose every word and gesture is hungrily consumed, may rightly assume that their fans want to actually hear what they think and do. Conveniently, the celebrity machine that built them up is right there to tear them down for it.

What really got me in this discussion was the all-too-typical and puritanical aversion to discussions of breastfeeding, which human beings have been doing for countless millenia! According to these leeches, Brad Pitt miming eating a puked-up piece of hot dog is actually preferable to Angelina saying "football hold".

When I waste five precious minutes of my life watching this junk, I'm always struck by how pathetic these entertainment "reporters" are. They get up at the crack of dawn, get themselves trussed up in suits and glamorous gowns to stand in front of a camera to blab about Britney's junk and Paris' BFF's and Angelina's boobs and Lindsey's girlfriends. If I spent a few hours trying, I bet I couldn't think of a lower profession. Their mothers must be so proud.