The Virtuous Vituperator

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

The Pedestal

Ever have a hero? A person you admire? A person you look up to? How about a person you identify with? Perhaps this person is famous, maybe they are a friend, or a relative. All of that part is irrelevant in most ways.

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What is relevant to me right now is that a person I identified with when I was younger is; gasp! Human. The sad part of it all is not only is this person human, but they are a person I am now finding myself angry with. I don't know this person at all. I recently read an autobiography and found myself conflicted and annoyed. I had actually put off reading it because I had a suspicion I would feel that way.

I don't know why I didn't get that what I identified with (then) was the sicker part of this person's personality. It's derived from tough times and a self-abuse thinking suffering was the answer. I got through it and so did they, sort of.

It's like a kid growing up who loved Mickey Mantle. This adult-kid finds themself with liver disease (not of his own making) he needs a transplant. Along comes Mickey Mantle, his childhood hero, who drank himself stupid and sick, he gets moved up the transplant list (and is all too happy to do so) and bumps you down closer to dying for no other purpose than he is a selfish bastard. "Selfish Bastard" is not too strong either- one would have to be a selfish bastard to have advanced liver disease from alcohol abuse and accept being moved up the list on name value alone in front of people who are actually sick for no other reason than; they are.

How do you not feel like you've been kicked in the teeth by this person?

So this person I identified with in my own misspent youth is human. But that's not it- I didn't have a false expectation that delusional. I cannot quite put my finger on WHAT is making me angry. Perhaps it was the callous way the autobiography read... like he's invincible, realizes he isn't, shouldn't be here, but is, and still just doesn't 100% GET how lucky he is in this life. Perhaps it is that he brags throughout the text instead of recounts. Expresses zero remorse for the grief he caused many in his own life, and seems to take the fans who identified with him for granted.

Fans of books, music, art, film, tv, sports, whatever aren't your personal fans permanently. The fans aren't here to tell you how fantastic you are all day long or purchase tickets, books, movies etc to keep you in a new Mazarati. They admire or like you for a reason. When you fall from grace, nearly lose everything and make a comeback- howzabout showing some appreciation for those, your fans, who are still trying to hang in there and be supportive of your now floundering career.

The diehards (of which I am admittedly not one) are REmaking you rich again- they go away, your career goes away. It's really stupid to feel this way, but it kinda pisses me off to see someone take a talent for granted, waste it, use it up, come back and still not GET that they should appreciate each day, that very specific talent and those who support it.


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