July 11, 2000
What do I have to do to get some attention around here? - THE COMMENTARY
By Joseph Planta
VANCOUVER -- It’s finally come down to this. We are in the dog days of summer. It’s filthy hot and the fan next to my desk, is working overtime. The biggest story in the news, the last couple of weeks has been the Canadian Alliance and so the Joe Clark’s and the Preston Manning’s need not apply. You can only be in politics these current 15 minutes if your first name is Stockwell and your surname is Day.
People are lazy. They’ll believe anything, because that’s what their programmmed to do this time of year. They’d rather get that tan lying on the back patio. Or watching the lady in across the back lane who’s getting her tan, topless in plain view.
Don’t bother writing a book, nowadays, unless you have the words ‘Harry’ or ‘Potter’ in the title. Should you not be so lucky, you’ll be lucky if you sell two copies.
All the teeny-bopper girl singers and boy bands are trekking the globe on tour. We had the N Sync lads in town a while back and ‘the Garage’ was full. For their parents, Sting will float through town soon, as that dearest Christina something or another, plus something psychoish shall burst here too. I’ll be hiding, thank goodness.
Fame’s a funny thing. Summer is too, come to think of it. A year ago we were bored out of our mind so we indulged in a little Chinese migrant bashing. We pick up, what would be minuscule items of news and make it big, for no reason, except that we’re all bored.
John Kennedy died a year ago, this time. He was flying in a plane, and according to someone recently, died at his own fault. He was born to the world of fame and at the same time fortune was a part of the deal and he didn’t seem to mind. Now, he was a fellow born to it, yet was raised by his mom Jackie to reject it. That is unless, he was looking for a girlfriend or trying to launch a magazine. It may be ill to speak of the dead, but he’s a good example. I’m sure he really didn’t want to be People’s sexiest man alive, (although I’m sure it did well to his ego,) yet we the public seem to rape these public figures of their privacy and reputation.
His father was elected President, because he looked better on TV than Dick Nixon, back in 1960. America was looking for a hero and they got one. To boot, they got a little tyke named John-John, and the American people, the vultures that they are, never relented. Even today, when at the newsstand I happened to pass by a rag with “new, exclusive never before published,” pictures of Camelot’s Crown Prince.
The other exhausting public figure we said adieu to recently, was that Cuban kid named Elian. I won’t dare type his last name, now, because frankly I’m sick of the whole damned story. Young Elian joins the list of tired wanna-bes: Buttafucco and Fisher, Tonya and Nancy, the Menendez boys, O.J.. and his Ford Bronco, Mrs. Bobbitt and her kitchen knife, Jacko and the monkey and of course, the intern of them all, Monica and her blue dress with Bill spill.
One, wanting a medal in useless bullshit, could use this space to list the players in that very incident.
If you want to sell your magazine, get Darva Conger on the cover and you’ll be bound to sell copies to folks like Babak Khorram or James Kwong.
TV? Only venture into the mired world of wired TV if you’ve got 16 friends willing to trek to the South Pacific and make complete asses of themselves. Plus, if you get another 10 folks, you can lock ‘em up in a room - you’ve got yourself one hell of a TV show. The permanently shut-in and lifeless will flock to their sets for their fill’s of Survivor and Big Brother.
Lemme end here, because I have to go finish reading the reviews of the new Harry Potter book. If only I could be a sorcerer too...
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An archive of Joseph Planta's previous columns can be found by clicking HERE .