Have you ever wondered how many people would die to catch a glimpse of a hot celebrity? How they would endure blistering colds and scorching heat of the sun to touch and molest these “stars”? I did.
Not an hour ago I experienced what its like to be in front of a stampede of rampaging girls. How? Well, I was walking at the mall, sending my friend a SMS, when I noticed this male celebrity flanked by a dozen or so security guards striding directly towards me. Of course I have no choice but to give way. Then this fucking bastard of a guard pushed me aside, as if the entire way is too small for them to pass through without hurting someone. His cheap little Rolex scratched my left arm! And not even a simple apology. This young star even grinned! Bullshit! Then here comes the best part, the rampaging low-lives pushed, pulled, bumped at me, screaming the name of Mr. Starlet. I felt like I was raped ten times over!
These people we call celebrities who most of us adore are simply people: ordinary people living an extraordinary life. And what makes them special is the attention they get from their fans. Media’s main purpose is to produce audiences, and out of these audiences a fan is made. Celebrities aren’t gods and goddesses to be worshipped. Take away their shell of fame and fortune and you what you get is the same organic material we’re made of, no matter how perfectly smooth their skin is.
These people who live in the upper echelons of society are no different from the people who live to praise them. Celebrities come and go, so does their fans. Human beings are never satisfied and soon fans will start to look for a new star to venerate. The cycle goes on and on, spiral as it seems.
Clearly these fans that desire and fantasize about their idols are here to stay no matter what as long as there are people who are being thrown into fame by the media, and these celebrities will continue to live as long as there are weak minded individuals who crave for them.
The scratch on my arm stings… ouch…