Written by Ed E. Druckman

Thursday, 25 January 2007

It happened. I finally got recognized from my humble Vlog, Ed-E-torial. It was kind of flattering, but also kind of scary in a Robert Bardo/Rebecca Schaeffer kind of way. I, like Rebecca, really don't need a bodyguard. However, there might just be that one loon, who slips between the cracks or shoots through the screen door as it were.

It was at one of my more regular haunts, the East River Café...61st Street and First Avenue. A typical Friday night, I had my 85% obit prediction rate raised to over 88% with the passing of Art Buchwald, which was kind of a hollow victory. I settled down at the copper top bar determined to stick to my New Year's Resolution: Try something different...Ketel One. That's when I heard behind my left ear, "Hey, Ed E. Druckman." I was set to turn around and be greeted by one of my fellow U.E.S. bar flies. To my surprise, I didn't know the face from which the voice, with a slightly slurred timbre to indicate my fan had beaten me to my New Year's Ketel One Resolution, came. "I saw you on LiveLeak when I did a search on Bush, IEDs. and Iraq." It seems my fan (I'll call him Jobim.) was a devotee of LiveLeak since he discovered it covered the realm of videos from Saddam swinging to Britney's clean-shaven, um, chinny-chin-chin.

Since he was buying, my fan didn't seem like a bad sort, and the fact that he didn't want to perpetrate any mayhem on mein body made him a passable bar companion for an Art Buchwaldless Friday. Until, "How come you're so celeb obsessed. Man, you talk a lot about Britney, Tom Cruise...all those." I told him I wasn't really celebrity obsessed. It had more to do with using those names in the news to get more views and once you had those eyes getting your message out to the multitude, or in Ed-E-torial's case tens of tens. "Yeah," my fan intoned, still with a knowing lilt to his voice, which he managed to turn into, "You'd think Brit's bush would be a turn on, but it's too bald. Reminds me of a baby's head." He then gave me visual proof on his cell phone. As an aside, I have to say it's true, since I had only seen the redacted version. Eventually, my fan and I parted. But his accusation stayed with me. Am I a slave to these people just to get a few more views? Am I subservient to them because I think my opinions alone aren't funny or original enough to draw the eyes?

The powers at Attic Witt do like it when we tackle celebs like Britney Spears, Katie Holmes because if a search engine gets a piece of that...off we go. But, no, I'm not celebrity obsessed; and I'm not prostituting myself. It breaks down like this. I don't know what Tom Cruise or Britney Spears are like as people any more than I know what my fan is like. I only know what is shown me, a creation, a selection, a representation. To be correct, I know the character who is Tom Cruise or Britney Spears, just like I know the character who is my fan, Jobim. These characters are my palette and the stories in which I put them is my canvas. Yes, I could write about the character who is my fan, Jobim. (Actually, I am.) But the instant recognition factor isn't there. I'd have to spend time to first get my tens of fans to know Jobim. They don't have the time. But when Britney plays hot potato with Sean-Preston, I've got a full-blown character to use as a representation of kids having kids and how we, as a society, don't want to say that. The same with Tom Cruise using Oprah's couch as a trampoline to declare his love for the current love of his life, Katie Holmes. That's a great representation of superficial love versus love of dedication; and how, again, none of us wants to call that for what it is.

Okay, if any of the representatives of these current Hollywood luminaries are reading this (Boy, am I delusional or what!), don't call me out. I'm not saying this is the way your meal tickets are. I don't know, nor do I care, how they are. It's the stock characters I'm after.

So all you celebrities, keep doing what you're doing. And to my fan, Jobim, see...I told you I'd pay you back for those drinks. And to those of you who are thinking like Jobim, I hope I finally put your fears to rest. I haven't sold out...yet.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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