STARSTRUCK
Mortals tend to become a little unhinged in the presence of immortals. In eons past, the first glint of ethereal light often would cause peasants to drop their mundane tasks, pick up sacrificial knives and rush pell-mell to the livestock. In an orgy of blood and chanting, the people would offer their gods the choicest cuts of red meat in order to receive divine favor. They sometimes even asked, "and would you like some fries with that?" just to be on the safe side.
In time, the Christian God banished the high-calorie gods, but the impulse to make tangible sacrifice to higher beings still holds sway among some of us. And the mayor of Macon is no exception to this.
Upon hearing that Oprah Winfrey was coming to Macon to film a show at City Auditorium, Mayor Ellis announced that public money would be used to gussy up the old building, giving it new landscaping, paint and a "Hollywood-style" green room. The stated purpose for the renovation to put Macon's best face forward when the national spotlight falls on it. But my sneaking suspicion is that the mayor, who has always governed as though he wished to be mayor of Ellistown rather than Macon, wants to personally impress Oprah.
There's a certain giddiness there that's something like the chess club president learning that the homecoming queen is going to be at his birthday party. But the giddiness seems to be banishing reason to the cornfield. First of all, Oprah Winfrey is rightly lauded as a celebrity who uses her wealth and status for positive change in the world. She might wince to learn that money that could have been spent on Macon's poor was used to throw a little faux Hollywood her way. And she is probably coming to Macon to get away from the tinsel world of stardom. Coming to Macon is likely a quest for the upright virtues of provincial America that many urbanites romantically assume exist in places like Macon. Either that or it's pith-helmet anthropology, a study of what hicks really are like.
The mayor is trying to misrepresent Macon as a city sophisticated enough to accommodate celebrity life, and like most frauds his effort is probably doomed. Rather than risk the humiliation of having the deception exposed like Cinderella staying too long at the ball, we should deck up City Auditorium with decor that we in Middle Georgia can honestly claim is ours.
Therefore, I propose that Oprah's couch should be the back seat of a '65 Chevy and the stage should be ringed with tires cut in half and painted white. Guests who have exhausted their time on the couch can spend the rest of the time watching the show in the "sitter," an old car up on cinder blocks onstage. The city can lend Oprah a big dog -- a pit bull, Rottweiler or Doberman -- to lie at her feet and occasionally growl at guests. The green room can be a single-wide outback with a dish antenna and a refrigerator full of Budweiser. The show guests can drink beer onstage and throw the empties at the audience.
That's called keeping it real.
Mortals tend to become a little unhinged in the presence of immortals. In eons past, the first glint of ethereal light often would cause peasants to drop their mundane tasks, pick up sacrificial knives and rush pell-mell to the livestock. In an orgy of blood and chanting, the people would offer their gods the choicest cuts of red meat in order to receive divine favor. They sometimes even asked, "and would you like some fries with that?" just to be on the safe side.
In time, the Christian God banished the high-calorie gods, but the impulse to make tangible sacrifice to higher beings still holds sway among some of us. And the mayor of Macon is no exception to this.
Upon hearing that Oprah Winfrey was coming to Macon to film a show at City Auditorium, Mayor Ellis announced that public money would be used to gussy up the old building, giving it new landscaping, paint and a "Hollywood-style" green room. The stated purpose for the renovation to put Macon's best face forward when the national spotlight falls on it. But my sneaking suspicion is that the mayor, who has always governed as though he wished to be mayor of Ellistown rather than Macon, wants to personally impress Oprah.
There's a certain giddiness there that's something like the chess club president learning that the homecoming queen is going to be at his birthday party. But the giddiness seems to be banishing reason to the cornfield. First of all, Oprah Winfrey is rightly lauded as a celebrity who uses her wealth and status for positive change in the world. She might wince to learn that money that could have been spent on Macon's poor was used to throw a little faux Hollywood her way. And she is probably coming to Macon to get away from the tinsel world of stardom. Coming to Macon is likely a quest for the upright virtues of provincial America that many urbanites romantically assume exist in places like Macon. Either that or it's pith-helmet anthropology, a study of what hicks really are like.
The mayor is trying to misrepresent Macon as a city sophisticated enough to accommodate celebrity life, and like most frauds his effort is probably doomed. Rather than risk the humiliation of having the deception exposed like Cinderella staying too long at the ball, we should deck up City Auditorium with decor that we in Middle Georgia can honestly claim is ours.
Therefore, I propose that Oprah's couch should be the back seat of a '65 Chevy and the stage should be ringed with tires cut in half and painted white. Guests who have exhausted their time on the couch can spend the rest of the time watching the show in the "sitter," an old car up on cinder blocks onstage. The city can lend Oprah a big dog -- a pit bull, Rottweiler or Doberman -- to lie at her feet and occasionally growl at guests. The green room can be a single-wide outback with a dish antenna and a refrigerator full of Budweiser. The show guests can drink beer onstage and throw the empties at the audience.
That's called keeping it real.
posted by John Parnell at 9:35 AM
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