The Mel-tdown :: Why You Shouldn't Care

I take a great deal of pride in my disinterest in the lives of celebrities, but every so often something big enough does come along to peak my interest, and certainly the series of taped phone conversations touted as "the absolute end of Mel Gibson's career" seemed like enough of a blockbuster to draw even me into the slums of the internet tabloid sites.

The initial information I was hearing was about Gibson on a "racist rant," so I was expecting something more along the lines of Kramer-gate. This isn't exactly the case. Over the twenty-some minutes of phone conversation, there were, by my count, two racial slurs, neither of which were directed at Gibson's girlfriend who on the other line. (She is someone that does something and I really don't care enough about her to bother looking up her name again.) There was, however, a whole host of death threats, c-bombs, and at least one confession of domestic abuse. Funny, given all that, that the media keyed in on the two rather insignificant racial slurs. I guess "racist" has a better ring than "live-in-girlfriend/baby-mama puncher" Not to go all Bill O'Riley-Blame-the-Victim about it, but there's also a fair amount of baiting from the girlfriend, who is fully aware she's taping a very drunk and irate Gibson, to aid old Mel in further digging himself into a hole.

If anything the experience was... entertaining. Though the time would have been better spent watching Cheers, probably.

Now, I'm not big fan of racism or domestic abuse. Truth be told, I think they're both just crumby. But honestly, why would I, or anybody else, feel even a gram of emotion over this? Frankly the personal nature of the incident prevents it from even being a meltdown on par with that of Kramer-gate, which, if nothing else, took place publicly, and at people who, outside of maybe being rude, were minding their own business. I think it's become embarrassing stain on our society that we create a job market for this brand of shit-seeking. So we can be exposed to personal phone calls and wring our hands deciding if Mel needs to go to jail for his lady punching or rehab for his substance abuse problems. Substance abuse problems we've all determined must be present because WE heard twenty minutes of taped phone conversation featuring the drunken star of Maverick.

I'm certainly not defending what I heard, I simply don't protest to know any more about the inner-workings of the mind of Mel Gibson than he knows about mine. For all I'm aware, Mel Gibson might be an upstanding guy who's fallen on hard times, or he might be a rampaging lunatic who likes to do blow off of stripper dicks and get choked by trannys to get his rocks off. Either way, Godspeed (You! Black Emperor) It's not my concern. My concern begins and ends with Maverick. Much in the same sense that the girl who bags my groceries might be a swell young lady who helps the elderly cross the street and volunteers at soup kitchens, or she might dish out sexual favors behind Taco Bell dumpsters for meth. Again, my concern is how it may or may not affect the bagging of my groceries.

This holds especially true in the case of actors or other celebrities who's work doesn't carry a certain level of intimacy with the audience. Elliott Smith wrote songs about his life, and Mel fought marauders in a world devoid of gasoline, so I feel like I have a slightly better window into the life of the former. Does that mean I actually know any more about Elliott Smith? Maybe, but probably not.

Anyway, I still like Chuck Berry, Gary Glitter, Michael Jackson, and Chris Benoit, so there's a reasonably significant chance I'm not the best person to ask. And I'm not going to tell you that J-Lo looking fat in a bikini doesn't validate your life in some way. It might. ...it just probably shouldn't. You'd be best served by not giving the slightest rats ass about the domestic squabbles of people you've never met. The time you spent caring are precious moments you'll never get back again.