My Celebrity BFF


You know, I just don’t understand why people worship celebrities.

Take my Jane Seymour post, for example. I was bringing the funny (or so I thought) writing about my college horse-loving possibly-lesbian roommate who loved Jane Seymour so much, and subsequently watched Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman so much in our dorm room, that I developed a rather intense and totally irrational hatred for anything Jane Seymour related. And that immediately brought out the Jane Seymour fangirls/sycophants who insisted on this blog that I was an uninformed, petty bitch for the said hatred. On the Jane Seymour fansite forum that linked to my post, they insisted that I was a schizophrenic*, bitter, jealous, stupid, uneducated single woman with bad hair writing improper literature. All that just because I hate Jane Seymour?


Let me get one thing out of the way: Trolls don’t bother me. Differing opinions don’t bother me. I don’t care if you call me everything but a child of God because of my opinion. It just doesn’t bother me. I am confidant enough in my own opinion that it doesn’t bother me when people disagree or call me names because of it.

What bothers me is slavish devotion to celebrities. And people who personalize their “relationships” with celebrities bother me even more.

Oh sure, if you’re defending your sister or cousin or mother or pal or boyfriend or lover or something, I can understand getting all het up over a criticism of that personal relation. But owning the complete series of House  on Special Edition DVD does not make Hugh Laurie your pal. Meeting Nathan Fillion at a SciFi convention does not make him your boyfriend. Knowing who Hugh Jackman was (via Oklahoma)  before he became famous as Wolverine does not mean he knows about you. And getting Gerard Butler’s signature at some publicity thingie does not make him your lover.

And posting to a Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman Forum does not make Jane Seymour your BFF. (More important, criticism of Jane Seymour does not equal criticism of you.)

Though, certainly, you can dream. Just don’t think your “personal” knowledge of celebrities means that you know them personally.

Oh sure, a lot of celebrities make an effort to give “private” information about themselves to fans. And there’s a lot of “private” information that is “leaked” to the press. Most of that is nonsense generated to create publicity and is “leaked” with the celebrity’s full knowledge and consent. The whole thing is crazy.

So yeah. When a celebrity annoys me or pisses me off or something, I’m going to write about it. And likely, it’s not going to be nice because I think celebrities are narcissistic sacks of shit and shouldn’t be worshipped with the slavish devotion they’re given.

If you want nice stuff about celebrities, go somewhere else. Go visit fan club websites or even their own websites. You’ll find other celebrity worshippers there who are just as deluded as you are. I write deluded because what you’re worshipping is fake.

Celebrities, as we know them, aren’t real people. They’re made up of bits and pieces of other people’s ideas that have been glued together to make them marketable. 

You want to idolize someone? How about your mom? How about giving her some of that slavish devotion, huh? Why not follow what’s going on in your granny’s life with the fervor you give when following some idiot celebrity’s life? Why not have a family forum where you can post about what’s happening in your sister’s life? Hell, you’ve probably got nieces and nephews who would love some of that attention.

There are plenty of everyday people who do great things and go unrecognized. Find one of them. My guess is, you already know a few. Hell, you’ve probably got a couple in your immediate family. So go call your dad and tell him how great he is for putting up with your nonsense.

Leave the celebrities to their inbred nonsensical glittery elitist little world.

* NOTE: I’ll post later about how ugly it is to use schizophrenia (or any mental illness) to make fun of someone, even when they don’t have the mental illness. I won’t post about it right now because that’s something that really pisses me off. And I like to cool down for a couple of days before I post about topics that piss me off this much. It’s never a good idea to post pissed.


Jane Seymour, Girl Detective

I have a confession: I fucking hate Jane Seymour.

During the 90’s my horse crazy, probably lesbian, college roommate was crazy for Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman starring Seymour. And that loony roommate taped every single episode every freaking week so she could watch them over and over and over again. Over and over and over and over again.

Do you know what Dr Quinn was about? Lots and lot of shots of Jane Seymour swinging that long hair about as she rode horses from sicko to sicko. And there was some scuzzy younger man in there somewhere as a love interest. But mostly, it was Jane Seymour riding horses, which explained my roommate’s interest in the show.

So. I wasn’t thrilled to learn that Jan Seymour is back. And the bitch is stealing my name.

And yes, I am petty enough to hate people I’ve never met when they annoy me.

UPDATE: The Local Malcontent (who isn’t really local to me) is such a sweetheart. Sniff.