Being a celebrity means you don't have to try, because it's already interesting. Hey, we just got into the hotel--here's a picture of Rich's ice bucket. It's made of solid gold!!!
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Trying is suspicious and strange. You only try if you aren't already a celebrity, which proves that you're worthless, because if you weren't worthless, you would be some form of celebrity. Dance with the stars, or something, right?
Even if you don't think it affects you, it does. Effecting the affects can help you for a while, but eventually you start to like it, and before long, you're taking pictures of what the busboy brought you for dessert, even if only thirteen people pretend to care.
This one once said, "In the future, we'll all be celebrities, and no one will ever have to try anymore." So just stop already. You can't compete with the inactive. Your whining only makes the long slide into the abyss all the more annoying.
It rolls this way because hate and love are sisters. Happiness and sorrow are so closely linked that, the more you see of one, the more you see of the other. If you want one, you have to take the other. To do otherwise is to dwell in the graph's flatline, making shadow puppets of things you've never really understood. That's why all the token doomsayers are, in truth, as flat as the flatness they despair: they're not running the full circuit. They can't see light so they can't see darkness. Their embittered whining is a symptom of being swaddled forever. (So too the loony mystics of redemption, right? If you can recognize one, you can recognize the other.)
The most spiritual are the most materialistic, and vice versa. Seeing one without the other is the fastest (e.g. slowest, a.k.a. only) way to spot a phony.
Truth sees deepest black hope and highest golden despair. You can't just tune in for three months and accurately guess the ending.