I was at a resale shop on Monday when curiosity knocked me off my moral high horse. I walked out with Red Carpet Suicide, Hilton Perez's guide to what it takes to be a celebrity. Using research as a justification (yeah, right, even if I am really working on a novel about a band) as well as that the money was going to a good cause (helping people in marginalized positions develop job skills), I purchased it.
Very interesting, indeed. Heaven help me, I could not put this book down. Say what you will about the ethics involved, but Mr. Perez is a good writer. I don't like to admit it, but I enjoyed the book. Anyone interested in the entertainment industry needs to read it.
Still, despite having laughed out loud more than once, a little sad tinge crept in. Some of it was for the celebrities who feel that they have to crucify any sense of self respect or esteem to stay in the spotlight; the leaks and tossed tidbits of this escapade and that dysfunction keep them in the spotlight. Most of it was for humanity in general and our collective inability to grow up about others' issues.
Back in the Middle Ages, a common form of entertainment at court events was the dwarf (old fashioned and I apologize for using it) parade. Little people and differently abled people would march around the room for the amusement of the so-called nobles.
Except for much better clothing, is there really any difference between then and now?