Tending to my state of torpor

In a world ravaged by war, starvation, AIDS and assorted other horrors, it is well to know that our information-gathering networks remain obsessed with whether or not Princess Diana was purposely bumped-off or if Britney Spears is still actually and truly married to her downmarket creep.

But, Phil already posted an excellent blog on the trailer-park diva, so the less said about her the better, because I think even her one remaining diehard fan is bored to tears by now. Indeed, so it seems is everybody but desperately-trying-to-be-current NBC.

So, nothing more about Britney here, even though this treatise concerns the obsessive publicity granted to the most boring people in the known universe Late actor George Sanders committed suicide a number of years ago because he said, in his parting note, that he was bored. I don't blame him, considering the fact he had to consort with show biz folk.

Boredom is a state of ennui, of torpor. Human beings, always looking for titillation are sucked into sscenarios of the lives of notablesbecause too many of us suffer under the misapprehension that our personal lives are tedious and mundane. Not so, I attest. Why, just this morning I read the newspaper from back to front rather than in a conventional manner. I was quite stimulated by my behavior.

Yet, even with that, we are led to believe that the life of Lindsay Lohan, say, is more enchanting and fulfilling than our own, so we devour tidbits about her. And, if her PR people are doing their job, then we will be drawn to the tale just like flies are drawn to – the stuff flies are drawn to.
My point is, however, these ‘prominent’ people are collosally boring, and some of them are more boring than others. So, take a moment now and just consider all the hideously boring human beings that we are expected to, nay virtually compelled to put at the forefront of our personal radar. Consider the following overhyped people who populate our magazines entertainment TV offerings:

1. All the pop-tarts who would flaunt tits and belly in lieu of offering anything resembling talent.
2. Anything to do with any of the Kennedy clan. Depending on your politics, you may feel free to substitute Bushes or Clintons for Kennedys.

3. Ill-defined, mildly physically attractive starlets who are hyped as "stars!", such as J-Lo, Lindsay Lohan, and the ubiquitous and plain by any standard (I know girls who work at Wal-Mart who are cuter) Paris Hilton. I mean, what does Paris Hilton actually ‘do’ that anybody should care?

4. Anything concerning the monumentally untalented Ben Affleck.

5. All ink and photos given to Angelina Jolie, her children, her wonderful work in the Third World (there are scores of people who do much more in that regard, who get no hype at all), her relationships, and her tagalong Toy Boy. I will admit she has a hot mouth.

6. The still-dead but ever-wacky Princess Di. Save us from the conspiracy theories. She was a room-temperature IQ classy bimbo who made atrociously bad judgment calls. And they say that men only think with the 'little head.'

7. The Royals in general, with the notable exception of the Queen, who remains a class-act at 80.

8. All show-biz marriages/divorces/affairs or sexual persuasions, period.

9. Much of the cinematic oeuvre of Tom Hanks. Not to say he can’t be good, and he is usually likeable, but he is generally an overrated actor who has had some decent turns, but is not a genius on a part with Bogart, Tracy, Brando (in his good days) or Nicholson. The public embraces him because he is so non-threatening. Michael Keaton, who started around the same time, is a superior actor at all levels.

10. Even more the oeuvre of Meg Ryan, the consummate sorority bitch of the sort one lusted after at 21, with never a chance of getting anywhere near her pants, I might add. She has not matured well or easily. Good as a fluffy bunny, but hardly to be regarded seriously, especially in her current botoxed incarnation.

11. Demi Moore. Huh? Pu-lease. OK. Ghost redeems her a teeny bit. Otherwise, never much of an actress, never that beautiful, and never interesting at all. But, where is Molly Ringwald these days?

8. Anything at all that contains the name Michael Bolton.

9. The recovery sagas of show-biz dysfunctionals, whether its from drugs, booze, anorexia, stapled stomachs, gambling or sex. Why do we care about anything other than their skills as exemplified by their work? Nick Nolte is a hell of an actor. I don't care what he does in his personal life.

10. The political mutterings of entertainers. Who cares? I like the Dixie Chicks well enough, but they’re singers, not pundits. And, when you get to the hubristic self-righteousness of Bono, well I couldn’t find enough disparaging invective to direct against such monumental hypocrisy. Why somebody who makes far too much money doing a banal job should be able to speak authoritatively about anything strains credulity. Much as it strains credulity to hear people who make millions per annum embracing leftie causes. Power to the people indeed. This is in the context of filthy-rich John Lennon seeing himself as a working class hero.

Those are my biases, though I have dozens more. I am sure you have your own. If I have stepped on any of your pet icons, I apologize.