27 June 2009

When a mega-popular celebrity dies there is a lesson.   After all the weird and convoluted lamentations we (if we think about it, and mostly we don't) must be left with the empty feeling that our fantasy purveyors are the most important entities in our lives - somewhere between aristocracy and gods.

Of course in the end it becomes painfully apparent (to anyone who thinks, and mostly we don't) that these creatures are merely mortal, and more likely pathetically fallible mortals at that.  Ah, but we adore them, revere them, idolize them.  Why?  Because we have large holes in our lives; we need them, their fantasy creatability, their bigger than life idocies, and their fame that so many lust for shamelessly.

And the lesson?  We are terrible flawed, we sheeple, and have an incredible need for something in which to believe; something to hold on to.  Who was it who said if there was no God we would invent one?  The process is ongoing and invincible.