This is my last column of the year and my last column for a very long time. So, let’s reflect on 2006. Oh, good old 2006, you’re the year in which I learned too much. I thank a dangerous combination. Take the advent of TMZ and the popularity of YouTube and couple it with the rise in quality and popularity of video phones, and lo and behold, anything and everything is free and accessible on the Internet. In November alone, I saw Michael Richards’ racist tirade and Anna Nicole Smith’s C-section, as well as Lindsay Lohan’s, Paris Hilton’s and Britney Spears’s vaginas. I saw Tyra Banks and Janet Jackson sit down and talk about farts. I saw Danny DeVito drunk on “The View.” I even saw every bone in Kate Bosworth’s ribcage and I’ve never even seen one of her films or TV shows. I look back in disbelief that I was exposed to all of this within a few weeks, and, the partial truth is, I didn’t ask to see any of it.
I peruse celebrity gossip sites and watch television. I will grant you that. But, I heed warnings before clicking links that say “not safe for work” and I flip channels with discretion. I argue that even people who do not watch TV or go on celebrity gossip sites will have still been exposed to at least part of what I’ve seen, whether they like it or not. Even if you just know someone who is interested in this stuff, she/he will either send you a link to the site or tell you about the video. Not only that, but it’s featured daily on the news. So, I wonder to what extent I have a say in the matter of overexposure and to what extent this trend of “Ew”-inducing footage is avoidable.
It’s not just that these videos and images are discussed on the news. They’re repeated and reshown. Every news report that condemns Michael Richards’s disturbing display of hatred agrees that this sort of anger should be psychiatrically treated and that displays of this kind should not be demonstrated; immediately after saying this, the program airs the video footage.
I didn’t go out of my way to see a screaming baby being pulled from Anna Nicole’s stomach. It was in commercials for that day’s episode of “Extra.” Every talk show that asks “Have you seen those pictures of Britney Spears?” doesn’t even give me enough time to answer. All I can say is “Well, now I have. Thanks.”
It’s not all bad: some information commonly considered to be too much may have a good place on television: Oprah recently featured a whole episode on gastrointestinal health (Sure, it’s a little squirm-inducing but it’s worthwhile viewing.) Tyra recently stripped down to her underwear with the rest of her audience (and made them sit there for the rest of the show mostly naked while she got to put on a robe) and had a gynecologist answer questions about thong health. This is all fine and good. Let’s get more of this open discussion about bowels and underwear fabric choices on television. Let’s get talking about poo.
But why did I need to see a preview of Screech’s sex tape? Someone answer this for me.
I’m mostly loving the increased popularity of videos that expose celebrities as morons. I enjoy watching Ashlee Simpson make a fool of herself as much as the next person does. But, to a certain extent, I think that by supporting the trend I’m enabling it to go too far. Go on celebrity websites for a while and, with time, it becomes not enough to watch Nicole Richie fall down or Ben Affleck get a parking ticket. We have to see Lindsay Lohan’s burn marks and Tara Reid’s butchered breasts. We have to see several shaven vaginas to feel satiated.
I’d like to point out that apart from a few displays of anger and alcoholism and one misplaced sex tape, all of the aforementioned events have one thing in common: their targets are female. And, most of what’s being looked at and discussed is strictly degrading. These images support the trend of taking pleasure from watching women being brought down to their barest level. While we love to exalt and glorify famous women, we also like to treat them like sexual, whorish objects and we’ll seek out any means to prove that they are. It’s not empowering or equalizing to see women naked. It doesn’t make people grow more accepting of the female form or female sexuality. The more used to vagina and nipple-flashing we become, the more neutralized to female sexuality we don’t become. In fact, we’re reinforcing our disgust with it.
There’s controversy about whether some of these vagina-flashes are planned. Celebrities like Paris Hilton make money and headlines strictly off of pulling stunts like this, so it wouldn’t surprise me. Plus, she’s a repeat-offender. She’s exited a car with a paparazzo’s camera up her skirt more than once and hasn’t figured out a way to swing her legs around and exit the car in one movement. So, as much as I think this trend should die, I think that not only would people be bored with what we used to find shocking three years ago, but enterprising celebrities who know how to work the Internet like Paris Hilton would be out of work. And that would be terrible. Absolutely terrible.
I’d like to point out, though, that these images and videos circulating the web are more than just publicity stunts crafted to consistently tarnish a celebrity image. This pertains to you, too. We’re not just shifting in the way we view celebrities, but we’re shifting the way we view our peers. I don’t know about you but I’ve been on Facebook. That being said, I’ve probably seen pictures of you drinking. Not only that, but I probably know how long you dated your last significant other. Yes, on Facebook, you have a choice of whether or not to be tagged in a photo, but even if you’re not tagged, I’ve seen the album, my friend. And I recognize your face. I saw that picture of you doing a kegstand and I saw that one of you being groped. It’s fine if you want to show that to the world, but I know that a lot of you don’t have a choice in the matter of whether or not your face (and, let’s be honest, more) is on the Internet. We’re kind of stuck being exposed. And I’m stuck being exposed to it. Anything and everything we do is fair game in free trade of (too much) information on the Internet. And I, as an Internet patron, can’t avoid your incriminating evidence. As much as you don’t want me to see your cocaine-powdered Polo shirt, I don’t want to see it either. Well, maybe I do.
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