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May. 8th, 2002
Varied and multitudinous.
May. 8th, 2002 08:50 pmNot really.
Pimpin'! Just realized that I've told Scotty how much I love her fic, but have neglected to pimp her stuff! So run, this very second to her site Beautiful Strangers, to check out a bunch of wonderful stories. Personal faves, An Ever-Fixed Mark and The Fog. Go read now!
Hm, in order not to have been lying in my subject header, I need to talk about something else. The kerfuffle!
A couple of simple rules, kids. Don't push slash on the subjects you're slashing, and for the love of god, don't do it repeatedly. The man was uncomfortable hearing about it, as well he should have been.
He's not your friend, and most likely never will be. You shared space with him for about five hot minutes, and telling him about slash didn't make you cool, no matter what your friends say. It made him uncomfortable, and I can pretty much guarantee you that he was probably about ten seconds away from calling security.
Another post on that board talked about a girl and her friends pretty much stalking JC at one of the hotels. Everywhere the man turned, these chicks were there. When JC left the elevator without speaking to these girls, suddenly he was an asshole. What? Do you people hear yourselves? What does JC Chasez owe you? You stalk the man all day long and then wonder why he wants nothing to do with you? I'm amazed that these guys are still willing to put themselves out there for fans, quite frankly. What you're up to is called harrassment. Don't do it.
They're not toys, they're people. Real people with friends, parents and pets. Other than the two hours they're onstage, they weren't put on this earth for your amusement. You pay them to sing and dance for you, and that's all you're entitled to. You buy their CDs, not their time, not their bodies. We don't own them, folks.
As a slasher, is my position hypocritical? Uhm, don't think so. For one thing, when I stood about three feet from Tony a couple of weeks ago, I didn't make sly, insinuating comments about one of his best buds. I didn't ask him to sign something under false pretenses - a mean-spirited thing to do, by the way. And I certainly didn't say, "Hey Tony, you and JC should lick each other, 'cause that would, like be totally hot, and I know because I've read these stories..."
Most of us were born with brains, so please, let's use them, shall we?
I'm no essayist, and I think the above proves it. ;-) It's times like these that I wish that common sense was available in a bottle, better yet an atomizer; just a couple of spritzes and the most rabid teenie would smarten up straight away. I guess I can dream.
And you know, I've thought about this before, and more than ever, I know it's true. I'd hate to be a celebrity. I wouldn't mind being attached to a celebrity somehow, like being A Famous Someone's sister, friend, wife or girlfriend, but I wouldn't want mine to be the face on the package.
If I were to be famous, I'd like to have a nice anonymous kind of fame, you know? The kind of fame that would allow me to go on the Letterman show and talk about my most recent best-seller, and then when the taping was over, walk out on the streets of NY and hoof it to my fabulous loft apartment, secure in the knowledge that 99% of the population had absolutely no idea who I was.
Oh yessssss.
Pimpin'! Just realized that I've told Scotty how much I love her fic, but have neglected to pimp her stuff! So run, this very second to her site Beautiful Strangers, to check out a bunch of wonderful stories. Personal faves, An Ever-Fixed Mark and The Fog. Go read now!
Hm, in order not to have been lying in my subject header, I need to talk about something else. The kerfuffle!
A couple of simple rules, kids. Don't push slash on the subjects you're slashing, and for the love of god, don't do it repeatedly. The man was uncomfortable hearing about it, as well he should have been.
He's not your friend, and most likely never will be. You shared space with him for about five hot minutes, and telling him about slash didn't make you cool, no matter what your friends say. It made him uncomfortable, and I can pretty much guarantee you that he was probably about ten seconds away from calling security.
Another post on that board talked about a girl and her friends pretty much stalking JC at one of the hotels. Everywhere the man turned, these chicks were there. When JC left the elevator without speaking to these girls, suddenly he was an asshole. What? Do you people hear yourselves? What does JC Chasez owe you? You stalk the man all day long and then wonder why he wants nothing to do with you? I'm amazed that these guys are still willing to put themselves out there for fans, quite frankly. What you're up to is called harrassment. Don't do it.
They're not toys, they're people. Real people with friends, parents and pets. Other than the two hours they're onstage, they weren't put on this earth for your amusement. You pay them to sing and dance for you, and that's all you're entitled to. You buy their CDs, not their time, not their bodies. We don't own them, folks.
As a slasher, is my position hypocritical? Uhm, don't think so. For one thing, when I stood about three feet from Tony a couple of weeks ago, I didn't make sly, insinuating comments about one of his best buds. I didn't ask him to sign something under false pretenses - a mean-spirited thing to do, by the way. And I certainly didn't say, "Hey Tony, you and JC should lick each other, 'cause that would, like be totally hot, and I know because I've read these stories..."
Most of us were born with brains, so please, let's use them, shall we?
I'm no essayist, and I think the above proves it. ;-) It's times like these that I wish that common sense was available in a bottle, better yet an atomizer; just a couple of spritzes and the most rabid teenie would smarten up straight away. I guess I can dream.
And you know, I've thought about this before, and more than ever, I know it's true. I'd hate to be a celebrity. I wouldn't mind being attached to a celebrity somehow, like being A Famous Someone's sister, friend, wife or girlfriend, but I wouldn't want mine to be the face on the package.
If I were to be famous, I'd like to have a nice anonymous kind of fame, you know? The kind of fame that would allow me to go on the Letterman show and talk about my most recent best-seller, and then when the taping was over, walk out on the streets of NY and hoof it to my fabulous loft apartment, secure in the knowledge that 99% of the population had absolutely no idea who I was.
Oh yessssss.
