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I will become a pop sensation.
March 28, 2004 & April 10, 2004
I've always been aware that among my peers I am the most handsome, intelligent and
deserving of the greatness to which I am destined. My mother explained this to me
the moment I was old enough to understand her and probably had been doing so for
some time before that. Mother is always right. Why fight it?
So where then is my glory? I'm 30 years old and doing alright, but I would hardly
describe my life as rich or famous. I'm more Mildred Krebs than Remington Steele, more
AJ than Rick Simon, more John than Ponch. This just isn't how
things were meant to be! Never mind that instead of preparing myself for
grand destiny, I spent the years between adolescence and 30 doing drugs
and pursuing women drunk enough to let me pursue casual sex. It's the end and
not the means that counts. My mother told me that I am special and now I want what's coming to me!
My cause celeb
What form of greatness does life owe me? Never having gone
much for hippies or enlightenment, great spirituality can't be it.
I've never had the physical resolve to follow my dream of playing
Shaolin soccer
(http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0286112/).
The fashion sense of the fabulous? Please.
I suppose I could get by on my striking looks, but that is so 80's.
I propose that my particular brand of greatness needs to
follow the legendary Path of Least Resistance ™.
My greatness must be easy like so many Sunday mornings. My greatness must be
the embodiment of the following laws of unearned fame:
The laws of unearned fame
- The recipient must be continually poured upon by endless buckets of fame.
- It is an undisputed fact that fame is owed to its recipient.
- The measure of fame must be wholly without consideration to talent.
- The recipient must polarize the masses into camps of adoring fans and jealous haters.
Finding my muse
Who among the pantheon of great humans am I to model my glorious path
after? Who are my role models? The obvious
choices are out. I haven't the famous family, unimaginable wealth or
the vagina to be a Hilton sister -- plus I don't look good in night-vision
green. Michael Alig is in jail and Andy Warhol is dead, so they're both
out. Even Bennifer is no more. Where am I to turn?
Silly reader, the answer is right before our eyes. He can't sing, he can't
act and I knew all of his dance moves when Thriller was released.
Justin Timberlake is the answer.
I will become a pop sensation.
What other brand of celebrity is so ripe with uncut adoration and mocking disregard for talent?
Name another that so effortlessly factionalizes households! Watch worshipful preteens and mothers of three
battle bitter patriarchs, jealous that Justin got to hit Cameron Diaz, Janet Jackson AND Britney Spears!
I shall walk the road of the Mouseketeer, and it will lead me to heaven.
The path of the righteous
Easier said than done -- especially for a 30 year old computer programmer with
a 30 year old computer programmer's gut. To attain stardom of this magnitude I
will need a strict roadmap. If horror movies taught me anything over the years it is that
asking emaciated hillbillies for directions to ANY path
is a bad idea. It is at best tantamount to the death of all of your sexually active friends. I
rather enjoy my friend's company and like sex well enough myself, so
the roadmap will need to be found elsewhere.
The Internet, atlas to all things great and small (just ask any porn site), will
have to suffice. As I Google in good faith with my destiny, I stumble across an online
interview with the Pet Shop Boys
(http://observer.guardian.co.uk/omm/story/0,13887,1062870,00.html)
that outlines their "Ten Commandments of Pop."
My search is over! They are both wise in the ways of pop and giving away
the answers for free! Be still my bubblegum heart!
It doesn't hurt that I would like to maintain just a shred of
credibility after my inevitable and meteoric rise. They've
managed some level of credibility for nearly two decades! Who better,
then, right?
So, without further ado, I present you with:
The Pet Shop Boys Ten Commandments of Pop as Relates to Dan to Hitting
Cameron Diaz, Janet Jackson, Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake's Mom
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Thou shalt find thy niche
Seeing as the niche for male, video game playing, fart-joke-laughing,
Internet addicts reached capacity sometime around 1995, I'll need to think
of something new. To misquote something I recently heard on TV, I'll
need to "look like a badass and sing like a pussy." So on with the
thug cap and forward with the falsetto!
-
Thou shalt write a hit
I played bass in a lot of very bad college bands and was known to blow a
mean trombone as a kid, but I hardly think either qualifies me to write
an honest to goodness pop hit. That sounds like hard work! However, this
never stopped Justin and I won't let it stop me. I'll simply follow Elton
John's lead and find a song writing collaborator. They'll have the brains,
I'll have the looks, we'll make lots of money.
I wonder what Willie Nelson is up to these days?
-
Thou must be prepared to be misunderstood
No problem! My girlfriend will never understand why I would rather spend
ten hours playing Tenchu than dance the night away to Madonna's greatest
hits in the Castro. I am also routinely misunderstood when holding conversation
after six black and tans. This one I've got nailed already. Next!
-
Thou must be a bit crap for a while
I eat my bran. What does this even mean?
-
Thou shalt make sure they know who thou art
Oh to be a fallen child star! Macaulay Culkin and Corey Feldman don't have
to worry about not being recognized on the street. I suppose that if you're
reading this story, you now have some inkling of who I am. So that's a
start. Maybe I should start hitting those Castro clubs with Lisa after all...
Note to self: Begin perfecting fabulous entrance making skills.
-
Thou shalt be stupid
Well, you can't win them all. I mean, I was born immensely intelligent and
there isn't much I can do about it now. What sort of pop sensation would
I be if I didn't break a commandment every now and again?
-
Thou shalt become a brand
I hope they don't mean this in some sort of painful cattle ranching or African-American
fraternity sort of way. I abhor pain. Simply hate it. I'm guessing that
the angle they're looking for is more of a Bennifer style tabloid sensation
and a fancy logo that kids can doodle on their Trapper Keepers. This could
be tough, but my soon to be perfected fabulous entrance skills and the torrid
affair I am planning with Liv Tyler should help things along.
-
Thou shalt understand the VIP area
I think I can manage this one. I'm so down with free drinks and red velvet
ropes. The trick will be getting the VIP areas to understand me,
not the other way around.
-
Thou shalt go mad
Mad like Jack White beating up that guy from the Van Bondies or mad like
Bob Geldof in The Wall? I'm not much for beat downs or Nazi fantasizing,
and Susan Sarandon style political madness makes me want to vomit. I suppose
a month long, orgiastic ether bender and a quick stint in some posh L.A.
hospital for "exhaustion" will have to do. These are the sacrifices one
needs to make to attain wild fame!
-
Thou shalt get a stalker
I really hope I get to hand pick this one. I can't think of many more
embarrassing things than an ugly stalker. I mean, look what David Letterman's
dumpy excuse for a stalker did for his career! Nada! I'm thinking more along the
lines of being forced to change my cell number because Christy Turlington
just won't stop calling, or changing the locks on my doors after finding
Britney under my bed again. A little violence would be ok - hell,
it might even be fun - but knives, guns and nipple clamps are strictly forbidden.
So there we have it, I suppose. This will be my roadmap to stardom and fantastic,
stupefying greatness in ten easy steps. You'll excuse me as I need to start working
on my fancy Trapper Keeper logo now.
Five-Oh! Five-Oh!
-dsf
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