Consider these click-baits to stimulate your day.
“Camila Mendes details struggles with eating disorder: 'I was really afraid of eating carbs.’”
Or this: “Amber Rose: I’m Done Dating Men. They’re Disgusting.”
If that is not enough to quicken your heartbeat, perhaps this Brad Pitt tidbit will draw your eye: “Brad Pitt and His New Lady Ines de Ramon Were Photographed Sunbathing Topless in Cabo.”
Want more nothings just to bring you up to date: “Gisele Bündchen Celebrates First Valentine's Day Since Tom Brady Divorce by Smooching Her Dogs.”
Why does anyone care about this drivel? Why do our eyes widen as we read this crap? Hunh, people sure do care though, lots of people.
Forgive my witlessness, but what exactly have the Kardashian sisters done to earn our attention? Other than making oodles of money by endorsing products and an odd sex tape or two, what do they have to offer? Anything come to mind? Sorry, that’s a rhetorical question. Come to think, why should we care if Prince Harry has family issues that bruise his royal feelings? Really is there a good reason to know that Kate Hudson carries nipple covers in her purse? And, by the way, are those housewives on the Real Housewives of [whatever city comes to mind] worthy of our consideration for even two minutes? Why should we care? For obvious reasons, celebrity gossip is popular for those of us standing in the wings viewing those who soak up applause in the footlights.
We ike gossip. We like to uncover secrets. We want to know what so-and-so is doing to whom, and why, even if the whole story amounts to little or nothing, which it usually does. Talking about others while they are not present allows us a moment of detached oversight, and is, of course, what people do and have been doing long before Iago whispered in Othello’s ear. We keep things whole, I suppose, by telling stories, true or invented. “Listen, friend, do you know the woman who walks her dog past your house each afternoon has a dark past?” Those narrations apply an element of bonding to our lives. In telling others the trivia or observations of a celebrity (or neighbor), we tighten social connections. In a way, gossip contributes to fellowship and gives us a common story. And, of course, negative gossip, say for instance, a public figure caught on camera urinating in public, well such an inconsequential tidbit of chinwag falls neatly inline for schadenfreude. How delightful the failings of others. But for the grace of God go the rest of us when we have to go with no place to go.
Gossip has even become a game, so the reader may wallow in the possibilities: “Which reality personality wears pajamas while shopping at the grocery store?” “Who among the elite politicians refuses to wear underwear?” “Guess who cheats on his wife even as his wife cheats on him? And so on.
In a real way, gossip binds communities and assures us of our commonality. Recently, a SWAT operation disrupted the peace of an early morning in our neighborhood. Nothing sorted out the drama on the evening news until a week later when details were released by the FBI: a drug bust, a white supremist organization, and dozens of arrests here in Washington state and around the country. Until specific information became available, our neighborhood buzzed with speculation and over-the-fence gossip about what happened and why. We talked about the incident because it happened right down the street and, along with all idle chatting, neighbors found togetherness, a commonality of experience even if we did not know exactly what had happened. The result was a connectedness. In the process, I suppose we let off the steam of anxiety coming from having armed authorities barking on loudspeakers and setting off flash-bangs while we peeked from bedroom windows.
By the way, this just in. “Candace Cameron Bure ‘totally forgot’ to get husband Val a 27th anniversary gift. Hmm, who would have thought?