I’m sorry to report that the morticians goody bag auction of Elvis Presley implements has been pulled.
I know I know alot of you were hoping to bag that rib stretcher but it seems that they couldn’t really confirm the validity of the implements.
Its also reported that some of the tools were actually sterilized and used on others, this includes the eyeliner that was part of the offering.
Feeling sick yet? Of course not.
This auction is as pure American as apple pie. We want to consume our heroes.
C’mere Jed, out mah shed I done got Elvis Presleys catheter.. no lie’
Its horrific.
We build up celebrities to make them more than human, we bash the hell out of them, then we prop them up and when they die.. ta da! Legends.
I do not swoon to celebrity.
I do swoon to beauty- I may be shallow but I am honest.
I think what bothers me here the most is the fact that anyone, literally anyone would think this is OK.
Its not, its blasphemous. Its morbid to say the least and its really rather sad that my species wants to sell the very instruments used to prepare a corpse of a singer for burial. Slap that on the mantle.
Idol worship is scary. Fanaticism is scary.
There is the argument that musicians and entertainers go into the public eye well aware of the scrutiny they will endure. Its worth it. They want to be famous.
And perhaps a girlfriend or a fan or a neighbor or their mom will step up to defend them when someone insults them.
When you sign on the dotted line you sell yourself. You.. are a product.
I can pick you up inspect all sides, shake it, kick your tires see if you’re worth it. Test drive your talent, research your beliefs, discover your favorite restaurant, wait for your Jr High Math teacher to post your old grades. So don’t cry to me when it happens.
You wanted to be famous.
Fame costs in soul.
I have had the honor and the horror of watching celebrities encounter things that no ‘average’ Joe would. I have been literally thrown into a car on the arm of some to get out of the spotlight ASAP. Sped away, dodging intrusion that took years to obtain.
Ironic no?
So can you rest in peace?
No not really, your grave should you chose one will be pecked at for souvenir. Your catacomb visited by fanny bag wearing tourists in roller sets and double knit.
Is that what you wanted?
So simply said in this little rant…you want fame? Go for it.
When you and if you achieve it, remember you no longer have your dignity.
We get that.
So you can strut your famous ass all over the red carpet, throw a hot bitch on your arm and carry a bottle of ‘stahl y’all.. but when you’re dead..
I can get your toe tag for $9.99 plus shipping.