Tim Robbins is lying about our troops again. This was to be expected because his mouth was moving on Bill Maher’s show the other night.
Meanwhile, Director Brian DePalma has unveiled a work of slander against our active duty military personnel worthy of Michael Moore.
The Daily Standard has the sorry details. [Warning: Take your blood pressure meds before linking.]
Barely… but open!
Right now you’ll find the first few of what will be lots of SWC movement wear and gear at our CafePress store. Be one of the first people in America—literally—to own a SWC shirt. And check back for fresh designs!
As has been widely reported over the last 24 hours, it seems actor Owen Wilson tried to take his life yesterday. SWC wishes him well and has our prayers for better days ahead.
As we state elsewhere on this site, we’re not about bashing celebrities (with some exceptions). We’re about pointing out how inane and insane it is to think they’re a superior brand of human. And as we say here:
Consider it a wake-up call. A therapeutic cuff in the back of the head for the ridiculous and pathetic masses who assume famous people are smarter, wiser, happier or in any way more special than the rest of us. They’re not.
There is no starker reminder of this truth than when one of our cultures “gods”—one who has everything to which the worshiping masses aspire—sees no point in living any longer.
This morning Drudge had a headline which read, “Beyonce Falls Headfirst Down Stairs at Concert. Asks Fans Not to Post Video to the Internet.”
This evening, video of Beyonce falling down the stairs was posted to the internet.
As if we needed one, here’s a fresh reminder that celebrities are to be pitied, not envied:
Norman Borlaug was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal by President Bush this week. He adds this honor to his Nobel Peace Prize and his Presidential Medal of Freedom and joins Mother Teresa, Elie Weisel, Nelson Mandela, and MLK Jr. as the only people in history to have been awarded all three.
Never heard of Norman Borlaug? Most people haven’t. He’s a 93-year-old agronomist who is credited with breakthroughs which have kept at least one billion people from starving over the last several decades.
In this piece for Newsweek, Jonathan Alter points out how screwed up our national cult of celebrity has become:
Borlaug’s success in feeding the world testifies to the difference a single person can make. But the obscurity of a man of such surpassing accomplishment is a reminder of our culture’s surpassing superficiality. . . Great scientists and humanitarians were once heroes and cover boys. No more. For Borlaug, still vital at 93, to win more notice, he would have to make his next trip to Africa in the company of Angelina Jolie.
But the western world can’t be bothered to take notice of extraordinary genius applied for the good of mankind. Our energies must be focused obsessively on what club Paris partied in last night and what designer’s shoes Posh was seen wearing.
And their contributions to the good of mankind have been precisely what?. . .
New York Post columnist Linda Stasi has had a peek at Victoria Beckham’s reality “Coming to America” special and she has um… some opinions about it. An excerpt:
If this weren’t a one-shot deal and people were exposed to her vapid, condescending behavior on a weekly basis, she’d not just be unwelcome in America, she’d be run out on a rail - whatever that means.
Anyway, the proposed series, now downsized to a one-hour “special,” is an orgy of self-indulgence so out of whack with, er, reality that you’ll sit there slack-jawed at the gall of these people who think we are that stupid.
As the headline for this article screeched: Beckham-mania! Posh and David take the US by storm!, the arrival of these two Brits has ggggggggggggggggggggggggg (sorry, I dozed off there for a second.)
As I was saying. . . Since robbed of their prime target by death of Princess Diana, David Beckham and his bride, Victoria, (”Posh Spice” of the Spice Girls) have been the number one focus of the paparazzi in the UK—and the number one object of veneration by the Celebrity Worship Syndrome sufferers who make being a paparazzi profitable.
{Please don’t miss the irony that the paparazzi played a part in the Diana death tragedy.}
For weeks the buzz among CWS sufferers here in the states is that “Posh and Becks” are moving to L.A.—the Mount Olympus for our pantheon of godlike celebrities—and thus the only appropriate place for these two deities to live.
Beckham is an astonishingly good soccer player who just happens to be movie star handsome. Had Victoria not married one the most adored athletes in the world’s most followed sport, she would be just as obscure as “Scary Spice” and “Dyslexic Spice” or whatever they were called, are today.
Posh also has the benefit of possessing one of the best faces and bodies money and science can currently provide. In most recent photos she looks like a mannequin or like David is walking around with the Posh exhibit from Madam Toussaud’s. Seriously, I checked for roller skates in the head-to-toe shot above just to make sure he’s not just dragging a wax figure around.
People, US, Entertainment Tonight, Inside Edition, and all their CWS-enabling imitators can now take a Paris break and feed a different sad obsession for a while.
Flipped on the Live Earth Hypocri-thon just long enough to be encouraged by Ludacris to turn down my thermostat.
Yep. The owner of numerous homes, including a 15,000 square foot estate in Atlanta featuring an indoor basketball court and movie theater with lighted marquee and posters, wants me to throttle back on the comfort a little.
Uh, sure, Ludi. Thanks, for that.
I only had to watch the thing for 90 seconds to get a full and spectacular encapsulation of Gore’s comic/tragic farce.
By the way, I did just as Ludacris requested. I went over to my thermostat and turned it “down” kicking the A/C on and increasing my comfort level a bit. My carbon footprint is now up to 1/10,000th the size of his.
