Imaginary Friends And Famous People
We do not know these cunts, man. They are a different species.
I don’t think I had any imaginary friends as a child. I’d pretend I was someone else, though, usually a professional wrestler. A professional wrestler on his day off playing on a trampoline, I suppose. Man, I miss how simple it was as a child to have fun. Imaginary friends, though, are very much a thing for children. We adults (Yes, I am an adult) have celebrities. Famous people in general, are they our imaginary friends?
For me, the famous people I genuinely relate to are comedians. They are not millionaires; they are fellow degenerates like myself. I dream of being a guest on their podcasts, planning the stories I would tell, getting a drink with them after the recording. It really is quite embarrassing. The sad reality is that even these individuals that I believe I share so many similarities with might as well be aliens. We will never meet, will never be friends and most likely never even communicate.
I have installed and uninstalled Uber Eats three times today.
Let’s move on to the real deal. The fucking insanely rich and famous cunts. Man, I hate them because I will never be them. I like to think my envy is mainly about the money, I genuinely believe that is the case, but part of me knows that being famous would be cool. Remember when everyone loved Jennifer Lawrence because she was so relatable and then hated her because she tried too hard to be relatable? It is the reality that a genuine celebrity, someone who gets stopped on any street in the world, can not and will not be relatable to us. Even those who came from poverty, aye, they once knew the price of milk, but that was another lifetime ago. Seeing them in their casual clothes spouting ‘Stay At Home’, hair a bit longer than usual singing ‘Imagine’ OMG They are just like us! We want them to be, though. It is a nice thought, that may be your favourite celebrity would find you funny? Reply to your tweet, follow you, become your friend and fly you out to L.A. It is a fairytale.
So what do they provide us? Their talent. Acting is the most easily explained. A great actor morphs into a relatable character; they seemingly can awaken that small percentage of them that is still a real human being. Also, some of them surprisingly resist the temptations of fame. They continue to be ‘Dishevelled With A Purpose’ (Blair Henderson, ‘Dishevelled With A Purpose’, shitinmyfaceshoveitupyourarse Inc) Inspiration as well but let’s face it, none of us will become one of them. The ones I like, as I mentioned, are specifically comedians who do podcasts, long-form intimate conversations. They don’t know me, but I know them, inside and out.
Comedians with nothing to lose, peculiar fame that allows them to be authentic without the fear of losing that Nike sponsorship. A very one-sided friendship but a friendship nonetheless? It is sad to even type this, but I suppose they are always there for me? Fucking yuck. They get me through work, entertain me when I’m shopping, they keep me company in every aspect other than physically. So they do the job, I guess. Yea, we will never meet etc. etc. Maybe we should see famous people as some sort of hybrid between a painkiller and an anti-depressant. We don’t relate to a drug, but we want drugs; better yet, some people need drugs. Perhaps, famous people are a reluctant necessity. And by all means, pretend they are just like you. Pretend they really would be your friend if you bumped into each other on the street. If it makes you feel better, fuck it. Maybe your imaginary friend is just a true friend in the making? I mean, obviously not you fucking idiot, but as long as your happy. No shame in having an imaginary friend either. It seems…we all do.
Cheers