Okay. I feel bad about my last post. I’m sorry. I’ve been there, man. Once I told my family I was skipping vacation with them in order to camp out for tickets to a John Waite show. That obsessive moment is still part of family lore. However, my worst story took place when I was 13 or 14 years old. I freaked out when my Dad couldn’t get the VCR working to tape Cher on The Phil Donahue Show. The show was airing and not only was our VCR on the fritz, but so was the cable!I thought I was in the third circle of Hell. I had a bona fide conniption fit. My father calmly walked out of the room and refused to fix or repair anything for me for a year! I learned my lesson. Don’t freak out at the person trying to help you tape Cher on The Phil Donahue Show. Years later I saw a bootleg copy of the show. And believe me, finally watching it didn’t cause any revelations in my life; but I love collecting Cher stuff, there is no doubt. I am, myself, obsessed. I too am an introverted soul who has, in times past, found it easier to profess love for celebrities than for real people. Real people can be so nutty. The truth is if we knew them, celebrities would drive us nuts, too. Having the luxury of not knowing them makes it so much easier to love them.
And so the intervention I recommend is not a pill I wouldn’t swallow myself. For every thirty hours of celebrity obsession, do one hour of community service or one hour hour (at least) of self-education on world events if you can’t stand the thought of getting out there in the real world just yet. I wouldn’t give up my box of Cher magnets and I wouldn’t ask you to give up your worn-out six-inch single of “Wasn’t It Good.”
Friends?
We forgive you, Cher Scholar. You forgot to mention the time you spent all your money on Cher picture discs on ebay and had to pay for dinner at Red Robin with a bucket full of coins.