Be honest. You know the people in Hollywood are better than you are. I’d be willing to bet Leonardo DiCaprio has slept with way more Victoria’s Secret models than you have, and Natalie Portman has a much more impressive stock portfolio. You fly coach? Gross. You think George Clooney flies coach? Or even first class? Private, baby. And that makes actors better AND smarter than you are.
That’s why people who hear the word “no” only when it’s in a script or their agent is yelling it at a studio head until they add another zero to your check are qualified to tell you how to live. You don’t like it? Tough. It’s science…or something.
When was the last time Meryl Streep wasn’t able to get a table at any restaurant, no matter how popular, on a whim? She doesn’t wait. You wait, like a sucker. That clearly qualifies her to dictate how you should vote. In fact, she’s so successful she should dictate how you live. After all, you aren’t worth $75 million like she is, so she’s clearly much better at living than you are.
Hugh Laurie is painfully better than you are. He won a Golden Globe for “House” and “The Night Manager.” How many have you won? That’s what I thought.
He played an arms dealer with a tall, smoking hot, blonde model girlfriend and kissed her so believably that a bunch of foreign entertainment “journalists” voted to give him a statue. So he’s clearly better than you are. Do you honestly think you could kiss an attractive woman in a believable way? Neither does he, which is why this Brit should have a say over our governance.
And Brad Pitt? Even the wives who dumped him are better than you are, so clearly he is as well.
In fact, everyone at the Golden Globes, even the losers, are better than you. They make millions of dollars pretending to be people like you. How much do you make? They play people like you so convincingly, without ever having met people like you, that other people like them invite them to fabulous parties to celebrate how well they played how they think people like you behave.
What do you do? You go to Super Bowl parties with actual people like you, willingly, and drink domestic beer, probably from a can. You even open it yourself. Gross.
That’s who you are to your celebrity betters. You work year-round. They work a few weeks a year and get paid the budget of a small town.
They know not only how your life should run, but how everything else should as well. Without them lecturing, how would you know not to go on a hate crime spree after a terrorist attack? Since people don’t, they must be listening to them.
Without them pontificating, how else would you know not to be a horrible bigot pummeling gay people at every turn? Again, since it happens so infrequently, you must be following their commands.
Or it could just be that they’re so insulated from reality, having peeked at the outside world only through a Huffington Post filter, that they’re wrong about you. It’s one or the other, right? Or neither. Or both.
The Hollywood elite insult the American people at every turn, and the American people punish the Hollywood elite by patronizing their products in droves. We’re Kevin Bacon in Animal House, taking a beating and responding, “Thank you, sir. May I have another?”
See, they’re so much better than everyone else they even infiltrate analogies in pieces attempting to insult them. Diabolical.
They’re the monster; everyone else is Dr. Frankenstein. It’s only natural for artificial creatures to attack their creators eventually. As long as we’re going to make them, they’re going to be them.
Someday, maybe, the snake will stop eating its tail. But first we have to figure out whether we’re the head or the tail.
Until that decision is made, until society stops feeding the beasts, we’ll just have to accept that they’re our betters. If you don’t believe me, just ask them.
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