I have to snicker when I hear a youngster say that their goal in life is to be ‘rich and famous’. I usually tell them, “Rich, okay. But you don’t want to be famous.” The reason, of course, is paparazzi. Of all the legal occupations in the world, being ‘photographer of celebrities’ has to be one of the lowest levels on the integrity scale.
Paparazzi, as you no doubt are aware, will do anything to take the picture or video of a famous person. Then they sell it to some junk magazine or mindless website or television Hollywood gossip show. But the fact that they profit from such a shallow pursuit isn’t what makes them so despicable, though they are. It’s the lengths they’ll go to capturing the photo.
Imagine the life of a paparazzi. Sitting in your car day and night, staking out a celebrity’s home. Or standing on the sidewalk for hours at a time outside a restaurant that attracts movie stars or music idols. Your whole life is dedicated to taking some schmo’s picture. That’s no way to make a difference in the world!
If I was suddenly famous, I would definitely not want this surreal attention. You step out your door, a half dozen guys are battling to get your picture before you make it to the car. Go to the grocery store and they’re following you up and down every aisle. Take a Caribbean vacation, helicopters are hovering overhead or boatloads of photographers are swarming. Big brother is watching.
All of this clandestine photography is only made possible due to unquenchable thirst of bored and boring people who live vicariously through others. If Jane Public didn’t watch those trashy TV shows, buy those tasteless magazines, and support those hollow websites, the paparazzi would have no market for their product and they would just go away.
I don’t care about the everyday life of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, those Olsen twins. Not interested in Brad Pitt, Jack Nicholson or Macauley Culkin. I don’t care who’s married to whom, who’s sleeping with whom, who’s been arrested or in drug rehab or slit their wrists. I don’t care what dress they’re wearing, what style their hair is, or what restaurant they were spotted in.
Don’t get me wrong. I respect a good actor because they’re a good actor. I like their work, but I could care less about their personal life. Same for singers, musicians, comedians, or pro athletes. I shared a moment with you via your craft, but I don’t need to peek inside your personal life. You’re just a person doing your job, just like me. Is that weird?
For a photojournalist to chase these people in their cars, rumble through their trash cans, contact high school sweethearts, and turn their life inside out is inexcusable. Show them some respect. Let them live peaceably. Give ‘em a dadgum break!
With all the injustice and suffering in our world, and all the problems that need to be solved to save our planet, doesn’t chasing someone around to take their photograph seem unimportant in the grand scope of things? Isn’t one’s dignity and privacy cherished anymore? Is nothing out of bounds?
- Mountain Man