You read about how celebrities' lives are disrupted by fame. They moan about how they can't go to supermarkets without having their pictures taken, their sexual activities are captured on film (by themselves) and then disseminated through the media, and so on.
But my pity for these people is wearing thin. I would be delighted, for instance, if I never had to see another photo of Jennifer Lopez as long as I live. You can't turn on the television without being assaulted by Lindsay Lohan and her opinions on weight loss, partying, or her new cell phone.
You know a celebrity has crossed the line when she has the audacity to show up in dreams, as Paris Hilton did in mine last night. I can't even escape Paris Hilton in the safety and comfort of my own bed (and, no, I do not have a television in my room!).
Ratings for the recent Golden Globe telecast were down markedly. New York Times writer Frank Rich attributes this to the 5- or 7-second broadcasting delay (perhaps assuming that viewers would miss something like the hee-larious Jack Nicholson 'mooning' of several years ago), but I attribute it to something else: celebrity overload.
You're boring! Be gone. All of you!