What do you call a leech that feeds on leeches because that’s what I want to be?
Nothing more needs to be said of the sadness inherent in the rise of reality TV personalities and celebrity worship. Whether the country as a whole is sick of it or not (A debatable point as ratings don’t lie) there is one facet of the whole affair that cannot be denied; There are not enough fifteen minutes of fame to go around. As more and more space is dedicated to people who are merely personalities instead of artists, the artists get shafted. Though I wish nothing but love for Jack White, I think it would be refreshing to see his face on the cover of US Weekly. Aren’t the lives of rock stars wild enough to warrant coverage? We know that they are, but instead the pop media coverage continues to revolve around people who, well… don’t really do anything.
Enter Lindsay Lohan, who actually has done many things, but currently is just another party animal making a living out of making a mess of herself. As I basked in the afterglow from the sell-out crowd at The Black Math Experiment’s reunion show, I check out my Youtube channel. I was delighted to have had almost 50 more views than I had the day before, a personal record. But in the bar next to me was a video of Lohan’s Muse photo shoot (The one with the nipple), and that video had over 40,000 views. Now, I know that none of my videos have any nipples that anyone wants to see, but isn’t there a middle ground that the musical voice of the next generation can set up shop on? Not that I think that highly of myself, but I think you’d be hard-pressed to find any band in Houston that people wouldn’t call more talented than Lindsay Lohan.
Then like the Grinch I got a wonderful, awful idea. A little hunting around and a trip through Windows Movie Maker, and suddenly Lindsay’s little noir sexcapade became a Black Math Experiment video. Low and behold, I was getting 50 hits an hour instead of a week.
This, my friends, is what we need to be doing. The vapid ones who drink and wardrobe malfunction their way into the finite resource of public attention must become our slaves. They must be chained and set to work building our temples. And when the temples are completed, they must be the first sacrifice. I encourage every musician in Houston to gather your Kardashians, Pratts, Hiltons, and Reids. Set your songs to their unholy warcries, and together we will take the attention of a nation that no longer remembers that they need us.
-Jef