I Don't Want to Keep Up with the Kardashians

I’ve been Kardashian’ed to death.  Amanda Robb’s article, “Creating the Kardashians”, glorifies Kris Jenner for her marketing of her family of “K named and X-rated’” Kardashians into a mega empire that earned $65 million last year.  The congratulatory-toned article is published in the July / August issue of More Magazine, which describes itself as “For Women of Style and Substance” (Full disclosure: “More” has published a number of my articles online. and I am a subscriber to the print magazine.)  After reading Robb’s article, I am left wondering what is meant by “style” and “substance.”

Kris, the “Momager” for her daughters, Kim and Khloe, not to mention Khloe’s husband LA Lakers star, Lamar Odom, and the rest of the kin, according to the Robb’s interview, is about to further leverage the “unstoppable (Kardashian) juggernaut”, by next merchandising a complete “Kardashian experience” at Sears.

Give me a break and gag me with a spoon.

As Robb tactfully alludes in her article, the Kardashian TV show took off with an “undeniable boost four years ago when a videotaped romp between teenaged daughter, Kim, and her then-boyfriend wound up in the hands of Vivid Entertainment.”  “Momager” Kris Jenner, a former Brownie leader, car pool driver, and room mother, by Robb’s turn of a common expression, decided to squeeze the “publicity lemon into an apparently bottomless glass of lemonade”.  To paraphrase one of Robb’s interview questions, “people think the heavens just opened…and fame and fortune dropped in your laps”.  I don’t think that is even a question.  In any case, isn’t a more logical question, “Have you no shame, Mrs. Jenner?”  “Do you care what your daughters are becoming?”  Or “Is it worth mega millions to throw your family into this publicity soup, more accurately described as foul-smelling rot than lemonade?”

I’m afraid I don’t understand this entire phenomenon; unless it is the fascination we feel when we rubberneck at a car crash.  Why are people standing in line in the Kardashian boutique for a Kardashian experience?  Unless the Kardashians have invented the i-Dress I can’t imagine how they are going to bring style and substance to Sears.  My collie dogs have demonstrated a greater sense of style and fashion, more loyalty, and more morally admirable behavior than the Kardashians exhibit.  And my collies could actually do something: fetch a ball, bark at the back door before defecating, and wag their tails.

I will confess, the only times I have viewed “Keeping up with the Kardashians” was as part of a captive audience at a nail salon while my fingernails were drying.  And my spouse encourages me to admit my unsuitability to criticize others’ superficiality when I waste time and money, not to mention natural resources and possible exposure to poisonous substances, by the sheer decadence of polishing or having others polish my nails.  

While he may have a point on some of these issues, I believe there is a qualitative difference between the frivolity of nail maintenance and the trash that passes for entertainment on the E! Network with the Kardashians.  The Kardashian experience has a far more poisonous impact on our culture than a little nail polish has on our environment.  And if I demonstrate the sin of vanity by having my nails done, watching Kris Jenner and her klan (no racist slur intended; I just can’t resist the alliteration of K’s) is more punishment than a person should suffer for the commission of murder and mayhem.  Far too much punishment for just the little vanity of nail polish. 

Ordinarily, I am not given to discussions of crime, sin or punishment.  Although I should not be confused with the pious “church lady” from SNL, I do have fiercely protective feelings towards my children and grandchildren.  Child exploitation in my mind is something a parent protects his or her children from.  Not something the parent engages in, for money or otherwise.

If Kris Jenner wishes to promote her former gold medal Olympian spouse as a speaker she and he should "Go For It.”  If the Kardashian daughters wish to carry on doing god knows what with god knows whom, that is up to them and their still-developing consciences.  They are young and may still gain some sense of morality and shame.  At least their stepfather, Bruce, has the sense to look vaguely embarrassed by the egotistical and outrageous antics of his family and his wife’s capitalization on them on television.  Maybe some of his brain cells and normal human modesty are still functioning.  But is there not a line beyond which a mother should not go in pimp…oops, I mean promoting her own offspring, even if it is for millions of dollars?

Momager Kris, in response to critics who suggest she is exploiting her children, says she responds “by working hard.  My job is to take my family’s 15 minutes of fame and turn it into 30.  It’s a very rewarding feeling when I go to sleep every night knowing I did the best I could for my family.” I’d say an extra 15 minutes of tawdry fame, no matter how many millions it is accompanied by, is not doing the best for her family.

My purgatory is over, at least temporarily.  The TV at the nail salon appears to no longer be working.  Maybe there is a god watching over all of us. 

Stealth Drones Againt Cancer and Tornadoes?

Dorothy’s Idea of the Day:

An article I read today concluding there are risks associated with living in any locale was particularly timely, following a string of strange “pop-up” tornadoes dancing in and around the Louisville area last night.  At the whim of the storms, the barns at Churchill Downs were damaged, but Louisville residents dodged injuries.

If it’s not fires, storms, mudslides, earthquakes or floods, our own bodies make life unpredictable.  A neighbor and two friends recently have been diagnosed with brain tumors.  Another friend has had a recurrence of breast cancer.  Sort of makes the tornado warnings last night seem almost trivial.  In truth either may be deadly, or able to be survived, both depending on some known and controllable and some unknown, and at present uncontrollable, factors.

With all the dangers in life, I do not understand why we as a species continue to voluntarily kill, hurt each other and ourselves and destroy the planet?  Isn’t there enough danger inherent in human life to keep things interesting without the need for human-created strife and suffering?  And what could we do if we put some of the energy and resources squandered in destructive ways to use in trying to solve our common problems?

What Are Our Forgotten Dreams?

We just saw “Cave of Forgotten Dreams”, Werner Herzog’s film of the earliest known cave art.  Over 30,000 years ago humans created fabulous drawings in the Chauvet caves of southern France.  Herzog’s film brilliantly illuminates, even in dim light, this treasure.

Like many movie-goers I have been subjected to 3-D technology before.  With the cheesy 3-D glasses and filmmakers’ attempts to pull their audience into chases and fights, or force them to dodge thrown projectiles, even such beautifully crafted films as Avatar left my head achy.  For me, at least, the 3-D technology not only was wasted but a bit annoying.

Not so in “Cave”.  We walked into the film just as it was starting, a result of the wrong show time having been printed in the local paper.  For future reference, the very slow ticket-taker at the theater advised, if there is a conflict between the newspaper and online we should believe the info online.  

I first noticed the screen was blurry as we found our seats in the darkened theater.  Reluctantly putting my 3-D glasses on, the film stayed blurry for a few moments.  Then, sort of like plugging my i-Phone into my new laptop, my brain registered the 3-D glasses as a new device: I suddenly started to see in 3-D.  This film with these glasses was plug and play apparently.

The cave art literally is awe-inspiring.  Very quickly I could imagine early humans dancing by flickering firelight as the horses, lions, bison and bears pictured on the cave walls moved and told stories. The beautiful renditions of a variety of animals had been drawn on the contours of caves so effectively utilizing the shapes of the cave walls that by the shifting lights (the filmmakers had been allowed to use only non-heat emitting lighting for filming the interior of the caves) many of the animals appeared animated and moving.  Maybe this really was the earliest attempt at motion pictures. 

The cave artists from the Paleolithic period lived in what is now southern France when glaciers covered much of that part of the world.  Based on tools and weapons from this period, these early humans very likely hunted many of the animals depicted on the cave walls.  The early humans no doubt dressed in the animals’ fur, ate their meat and used their bones for tools.  But what did they believe?  What did they hope for?  Did they draw the animals out of reverence, for religious rituals, or to entertain during a long cold winter?

The only drawing of a human-like figure in the caves is of the lower half of a woman’s seated body combined with that of an animal’s upper body.  One of the scientists speculated this drawing demonstrated the cave artists’ mythical or religious beliefs that the spirit world and the physical world were easily traversed.

Maybe so.  But I’m not at all sure what the filmmaker was trying to say about the nearby nuclear power plants and albino crocodiles living in a warm biosphere created as a result of the warm water resulting from the power plants.  I do wonder what a future generation 30,000 years hence might make of a wildly decorated Gallopalooza horse or an episode from a reality TV show, if those and humankind survive, that long.

Turn 'Em Off

Dorothy’s Idea of the Day: The loud, no-nothing talkers are not just in restaurants, theaters, and public venues but on TV and radio airways.  And we can do something about those loud mouths quite easily, without even asking to change tables or seats.  Just turn them off.

Talk Loudly Only If You Have Something Interesting To Say

The Seinfeld “soft-talking woman” is not nearly as annoying in real life as the ridiculously loud-talking man.  Who always seems to take the seat at the next table in the restaurant where you were hoping to enjoy a quiet dinner.  

Dinner last night was delightful.  Or it would have been if we could have heard each other.  My husband and I ordered some grilled fresh fish at one of our favorite seafood restaurants.  We were skimming the local paper and commenting on a few upcoming events and articles when a door-rattling voice from the next table shattered our reverie.  

This loud-talking man at the next table either has become a common character, or he is following us.  He appears to be wherever we go.  Perhaps he is kin to the mountain man who usually comes late and plants his ten-foot frame directly in front of us at the movies.

But back to loud talkers.  Do these men not realize how loudly they are talking? Do they think everyone in the restaurant wishes they had been invited to share a meal with the loudest bore in town? Maybe they are hearing impaired and doing their part to see that rest of us soon are too.  Or maybe they think everyone wants to know their views, whether it is on traffic, weather, and sports or politics and the economy.  

In all fairness, it is not only men who are obnoxiously loud talkers in restaurants and similar venues. Not too long ago we dined out with another couple before a musical. Knowing that too many loud concerts in our youth and the ravages of age had left a couple of us somewhat hearing impaired, we asked to be seated in a quiet spot so we could talk amongst ourselves and hear each other.  

Our so-called quiet location turned out to be opposite a table of ten women, dressed in nearly burlesque exuberance, who were attending a competing musical presentation by Lady Gaga.  So much for the “quiet location.”

The differences between the loud-talking man and loud-talking women are three-fold.  Loud women are there for some “event” whether it is a party or as revelers for a Lady Gaga concert.  Loud-talking women are always that, plural, not just one booming voice drowning out everyone else. And, without exception, loud women have had their tongues thoroughly lubricated with cocktails.  

The loud man, on the other hand provides a solo performance, either lecturing or entertaining his group, or even an unfortunate single companion, along with everyone else within a five-mile radius. He may or may not be well lubricated with alcohol. The latter is a good fact to note before deciding whether to ask him to kindly pipe down unless his immediate companion(s) are hearing impaired.  

The one question I cannot answer is why there are no loud talkers of either gender who have something really interesting to say? Invariably, when the conversation at the next table sounds worthwhile the speakers are so quiet you have to strain to eavesdrop. 

 Dorothy’s Idea of the Day: We need to find a way for the level of knowledgeable and interesting discourse of talkers to be directly rather than inversely related to their volume. 

What Do You See Looking Over My Shoulder?

Tonight when we went out to walk the dog I spotted a small ginger cat, under the neighbor’s tree across the street.  I mentioned the cat to my husband and by the time he turned to look the cat had moved on.  My husband’s response was, “I didn’t see a cat.” I described the cat to my spouse and he repeated he hadn’t seen a cat. And had I maybe seen the sandy-colored dog, walking on lead with another couple at the entrance to the park. “No,” I said.  “I saw a little ginger cat.”

We walked, talked about other things and my mind wandered to a topic it keeps returning to lately: perspectives. In this political environment, we have lots of different perspectives on everything.  From the far right to the far left and every where in between, people, or at least the noisy ones, seem to be all consumed with their own viewpoint. And have no interest in seeing anything from another person’s perspective.

And taking it to the personal, most obvious difference in perspective, consider how a husband and wife tend to see the world differently. I’m not talking about gender differences, differences in religion or politics, or upbringing. Just the basic, literal differences in viewpoint. 

As my spouse and I went out the door tonight, I saw the cat because I was out the door first.  My husband was holding our dog’s leash, closing the door, making sure it locked. And he when he came out the door he looked somewhere other than across the street where the little cat had caught my eye.

If we had not a long history of believing each other; if I had a history of hallucinations; or if I had seen something my husband had never seen or a totally weird vision, he might have doubted my observation.  

At dinner with my husband over the weekend, we each have a unique dining experience. Not merely because I had the grilled salmon and he ate pasta. I spent dinner looking at my husband, or over his shoulder at the scene behind him. My spouse had dinner with an entirely different view.

We were seated at a window and I found entertainment-watching people walking by. I enjoyed watching what women were wearing for the evening, kids skipping along. A photographer taking photos across the street. I mentioned the photographer to my husband. A car was blocking his view and it required him to watch for a couple minutes before he could see the photographer. But my husband could see, from just the other side of a small table, what the photographer was most likely photographing. Together we had pieced together a story neither of us had figured out on our own.

Dorothy's Idea of the Day: Maybe in the rest of our human encounters we might consider giving the other person a break and assume they may be seeing what they say they are seeing.  Perhaps they just happen to be looking from a different perspective. And maybe together we might see a fuller view of reality. 

 

Today Was a Perfect Day for a Nap

Dorothy's Idea of the Day: Sometimes an afternoon nap is better than almost anything, even writing a blog.