Kim Kardashian got "flour bombed" while at a promotional event, eh? Not gonna lie – this bit of news made me smile. I don't hate Kardashian, but I don't love her either. Rather, I fall in line with what I assume most people think of this woman: as an overexposed celebrity whose public humiliation amuses our baser selves. Though if you give the go-ahead to have every single moment of your life broadcasted to the world, including a multi-million dollar wedding that 72 days later was nothing more than an expensive mistake, then you have only yourself to blame when fans become fanatical. I understand why someone might get weird about Kim or any other celebrity who earns their bread and butter by deluging the public with a play-by-play of their lives. If I watched a Keeping Up with the Kardashians marathon, I might become strangely obsessed with Kim and crew as well.
However, I began to feel a little sad for her. Not for Kardashian. For the woman who wasted a day of her life and a perfectly good bag of flour on the reality star. Why did she care so much? At what point did she decide that it was worth the possibility of jail time to assault Kim with foodstuff? From what I've heard, the flour bomber has connections to PETA, though the organization claims no responsibility for the incident. Not quite sure how covering someone in baking ingredients is a step forward for animal rights, but whateves. As far as Kardashian is concerned, she was immediately whisked away to clean up her fabulous outfit and returned shortly thereafter to continue the event. In the end, it was no skin – just flour – off her nose.
Now I know the media outlets love all things celebrity and probably wet themselves when something this juicy occurs. They practically force us to keep up with the Kardashians or newest Bachelor or Jersey Shore crew. Yet it is possible to avoid getting sucked into the black hole of celebritydom. We can choose not to care so much. Just scroll down to the comments section of any article that mentions Angelina Jolie, Justin Bieber or Beyonce, and it becomes obvious that we are way more invested in celebrities than we should be. Cheryl from Austin is convinced that Blue Ivy isn't Beyonce's biological daughter and her postpartum physique proves it. Jenna in Detroit wants Bieber to break up with Selena Gomez because he's too good for her. Rick in Baltimore was embarrassed by Jolie's pathetic need for attention at the Oscars, and furthermore, his wife is way hotter than her. Fair enough.
I'm not saying that I'm above it all. I know far more than I care to admit about the lives of many celebrities. It's one of the less endearing quirks of living in LA. But regardless of whether Kim wears fur or weds for publicity purposes only… Why does it matter? Because she's desecrating the institution of marriage? Because millions of little girls are going to run out and buy mink coats? That's the problem. Looking to the Kardashians as role models for anything is the grand illusion. Celebrities are in the business of a little entertainment and a lot of self-promotion, so take them with a grain a salt. Ninety percent of what they say or do is conspicuously crafted for our celebrity-hungry society, and the other ten percent is Botox. Instead, let's celebrate people like nurses, schoolteachers and social workers; they're the real role models. Plus, if you want some entertainment, just pick up a good book. Pop in a favorite movie. But for goodness' sake, put down the flour.
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