On Hollywood, Stars and The Race for Fame

I saw a poll online yesterday (forgive me for having forgotten the site) that asked readers to vote on the worst Hollywood parent. The choices consisted of Jon Gosselin, the father of Balloon Boy, Octomom and Lindsay Lohan’s father. I didn’t vote, but Jon appeared to me taking an early lead. I can’t say I disagree with those results.

My first thought upon seeing this poll was that I have no clue what Octomom’s actual name is. My second thought was that none of these people, with the possible exception of the man who sired Lindsay Lohan, should be considered Hollywood parents.

Then I stopped and thought about it for a moment and I realized that this is America. In America, anyone can be a celebrity. All it takes is a little screen time, a lot of audacity and people like me to write about you. Make a few bad choices and – BAM – you’re a star, baby.

It seems everyone wants to be a star these days. Be it reality television or blogs or YouTube, there are so many options available for the average Joe who wants to cash in on the fame craze. I can’t help but wonder, however, what the appeal is.

The minute one crosses over the line from being a regular person to being a star, everything changes. And from what I can tell, it doesn’t usually change for the better. Look at Jon Gosselin. Sure, he’s famous now. He also happens to be one of the most detested men on the planet at the moment. Complete strangers are voting him the worst parent in Hollywood. His marriage is in shambles. His family is falling apart. Every mistake he’s ever made is up for public judgment. His life is no longer his own.

I sure hope it was all worth it, Jon.

And yet, I wouldn’t be a very honest person if I didn’t say I wasn’t at least the tiniest bit intrigued by the idea of being famous. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to checking the stats of this blog religiously to see just how many people are reading my public thoughts. I admit to fantasizing about being discovered someday and becoming the next big thing on the Hollywood writing scene.

Seems I’m as caught up in America’s race for fame as the next guy. I’m not nearly as despicable about it as Jon Gosselin, but the seed has been planted. I’m far from innocent.

What separates me from the likes of Octomom, however, is that which separates human beings from, say, fungus. I have self-awareness. I completely recognize that at least on some level I blog in the hopes of being famous. I also completely recognize that I’m never going to become famous for keeping this silly blog.

And yet, I’ll play along in my own delusional mind. And I’ll continue to judge those who have faired better than I in the race for fame. For, that’s what we do. We build you up to tear you down. And then we throw our hats in the ring to be the next person who is vilified by all of America.

Ain’t fame great?