11/5/2009 8:10 am
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So there are a lot of people out there who feel I should apologize to David Hasselhoff. After much "soul searching" I have chosen not to say, "I'm sorry."
What happened? The obvious. I opened my mouth.
The day: Sunday of President's weekend.
The Location: The 3rd street Promenade. Santa Monica. (Heavily populated with tourists and weekend shoppers.)
Even more specific location: Outdoor section of Cabo Cantina.
What was I doing: Sipping on a delicious beverage.
And so it began.
My friend pointed out that across the way, a very, very short distance away, standing on the balcony of the second level gym, was David Hasselhoff. There in the flesh was the man who believed in talking cars and the idea that he could save someone from drowning in the water. He wore cut off sleeves and baggy jogging pants. His face was flush from his possibly strenuous work out.
I was outraged that he was standing there presiding as if presiding over the promenade. I was appalled by the egotism, the need for adoration from this man who goes out on a balcony as if he is Evita to have a crowd, a tourist crowd, on President's weekend swoon over him, gush at his "bulging" muscles. My second bit of dialogue, after pointing out to my friend the missing sleeves, is fueled by this rage over his audacity, his need, his showy act of celebrity and thus I yell:
Hey Hasselhoff it's good to see you are putting down the cheeseburgers and working out again.
(If you don't frequently read People magazine, watch TMZ or E News you might not know that a couple of years ago Hasselhoff's daughters filmed him while he was drunk trying to eat a cheeseburger, sit up straight, and talk. It was their act of desperation. They wanted to embarrass their father into rehab—it worked for a time. But this celebrity we are talking about here—everything is simply for a time.)
So what does this judger of America's talent do… Well he gripped the balcony leaned over slightly and just stared me down with a death stare. It was so intense I thought he might go all Phil Spector on me or worse go old school and go all OJ on me. He did this for what felt like half hour and was probably only for four minutes. But he kept coming back out and staring me down. I had invaded his celebrity space, and thus ruining his comfort of being adored.
We finished our drinks a bit quicker, part of me was excited of a possible lawsuit if he hit me, part of me feared for my life.
So what did I learn:
A lot of people took Hasselhoff's side, calling me a jack ass, which furthers my complaint regarding our need to defend celebrity, think the best of celebrity.
Professors/teachers don't address social justice enough in school.
Hasselhoff has a tiny head.
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15527 posts 11/6/2009 11:30 pm |
You're a funny dude. Yes, people respect celebrity (not love, but respect), and I am not in love with the word "respect." In other words, adoration of celebrities is not an emotional connection, it lies on the very surface of one's being, and you wanted to challenge those who never get beyond their own surface. Methinks...
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15527 posts 11/6/2009 11:51 pm |
I know you may hate convention, but here it's considered common courtesy to respond to those who comment on your blogs. In the beginning of blogging, it's not apparent.
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