All this post needs is a bottle of Scotch (And one lone tear)


Did you know that there are more than 4,000 species of frog? That’s what the Book of General Ignorance tells us. Of the large number of frogs, only one species says Ribbit. So, why am I giving you this piece of environmental trivia on a site that generally only talks about relationships and society? Because the one type of frog that makes a Ribbit sound are indigenous to the forests around Hollywood, California. Yes, the Ribbit Ribbit noise that we have assimilated into our culture is a function of Hollywood going into its backyard and taping sounds for a movie with a male cow with utters or a bear in an Indian jungle.   

Lee and I have written several articles now revolving around the theme of people supplanting their identities for an illusionary reality created by the media. We write it because we think that it is important. I know that we have trashed Mickey Rourke a few times but he has such a depth of crazy that his insanity bubbles up like a natural spring, washing over us with the pure waters of KooKoo. I just watched his Spirit Award acceptance speech. And, yes, I laughed at him like I would any psychotic off their meds but then I got that worried, sad feeling. I was not the only one watching this clip. There are others out there looking at him ramble, curse and inappropriately cry who are thinking, ‘I want to be like him’. They see him as a rebel who speaks his mind.

I believe in honesty, as is evidenced by this blog, but what we are seeing is not simple self-truth. The Rourkes, Madonnas, and Phoenixes, everyone that uses their celebrity as a stage to promote their inappropriate, immoral and often unhinged behavior, bring our culture one more step into an identity crisis of its own making. As a society, we have no identity, no value of self worth outside of our aspiration to be Hollywood-like.  We want to be thin and rich. Our children seek out same sex experimentation while their parents try to be their friends in Kardasian style.

Now that I have firmly placed all of society’s woes onto Hollywood and the media, I might need to take a little responsibility, though reluctantly, for my part in this. At the simplest level of the hierarchy is the obvious; I listen to all of this stuff. I wouldn’t know that Mickey Rourke is a nut job if I didn’t hang on his every disassociated word. I know the words to the Katy Perry song because, well, I like it.

But it gets worse. I know about this, I am part of this, because I am a little (and now, if I could write the next word in little tiny weenie font, I would) jealous. As I sit here with my unpublished manuscript in hand, I fantasize about being famous in J.K. Rowlings – like fashion. And not the real life, hard earned, celebrity but the fantasy fame. The story of her being on welfare and, with some possibly divine inspiration, creating the Harry Potter series ring in my head. I see an Eliza Doolittle looking woman furtively jotting notes on any scrap of paper available.  

Here, my rant trails off into oblivion. I have no solution to squash my own disillusionment. Simply ignoring the behavior does not make it any saner. Schrodinger does not apply here. The box is open and the cat is dead. I’ve looked at the illusion and I liked it but I do not want anyone else to look because that would be bad.


Signed, Hypocrite Looking for Aid.

Lee says:  Dear Hypocrite, I am cutting off your MTV.  Signed, Debbie Denial


  • Miriam Alario

    Re your frogblog and comments about Our collective self image vs. the Hollywood influence over it… I suspect that you have the cart before the horse, or at least his hitching tackle is on backwards.

    When I was a teenager, I watched Twiggy on a television interview. I cried for DAYS, because at a busty 17, I was out of style, anonymous, and insignificant. I didn’t want to be like her, but I did bemoan the fact that she was desired, while I was not.

    Not until a couple of years ago did my Zoftig figure become an asset.
    Yet I have always known that Twiggy and Kate Moss and Calista Flockhart were too skinny. WAY skinnier than I wanted to be.

    Part of what makes Mickey Rourke so compelling is not that he is what we aspire to be, but rather, he allows us to bolster our self images while he serves as the distorted fun-house mirror we need to change our own self view. We hang on his words BECAUSE they are so inappropriate for the time and place.

    The Mickey Rourkes of Hollywood and Wall Street and MIT for that matter, allow us to feel better about our lack of fame and fortune because:

    1) WE are not nearly as messed up as he (they) and therefore we are inherently better than he to begin with, despite his money and notoriety (and probably talent).

    2) If HE can redeem himself, recover and rebound, then surely (Listen up Amy Winehouse) we can accomplish even more, since (refer to point 1) we weren’t as bad as he to begin with.

    So as bad as he gets, we’re still better, and if HE gets better, then there is even greater hope for our own improvability.

    We, OUR generation (yours and mine) lost our identities when we found out that marriage and families and careers and Gawd help us, LIVES, required that we sell out some of our lofty ideals. I knew for certain (at 19 years young) that I could change the world. Even after the deaths of Kennedy, King, and Kennedy, I still had power, and nothing could stand in my self-righteous way.

    It merely took 6lb 4.75 oz of hungry blue-eyed responsibility, and one pick-pocket on a bus, to change every power I had into comic book fantasy.
    Nothing makes you doubt your personhood like a screaming baby and no milk money.
    I never did change the world, just diapers. and my priorities.

    So instead I look around me to the people that have the media’s attention, which translates backwards and forwards to OUR attention. I see people who do nothing admirable, and change the world for worse, and then I see those who make great strides by using their money and fame as ‘a force for good’.

    What we need… OUR Generation, is to go back now that we have a little more time, kids in school or better even those of us with empty nests, go find the things in the world that are still changable, and take up our placcards, our voices, our votes and our drive, to make those changes. Then we can be better than not only the Rourkes of the world, but even better than the Pitt-Jolies… because we do it without the fame, the money, the media.

    Besides, changing the world precludes our sitting home on Sunday nights watching Mickey blather, and feeling jealous (even in small tiny letters).

  • Nila Fernandez

    Very well sais Miriam Alario!

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