All About Me
Two or three of you have been waiting for this for years. OK, there may be a few more of you than that, but not a lot. Let’s face it: not many people have the slightest interest in who I am. And that’s a problem.
Like all aging GenX-ers, there’s one thing I crave more than anything. And that thing is fame. And I look at celebrities from my generation who are a lot less interesting than me – and believe me, I’m not that interesting – and I get jealous. And I thought I’d figured out a way to get famous, that nobody else had ever thought of, that would make me a celebrity. A star. A household word. Top of everybody’s google page, not just my own.
See, I’ve been watching people jump through hoops, devoting their every waking moment to a futile search for fame: epic fail, over and over again. So I figured, why don’t I come up with a strategy that doesn’t require any significant effort at all? Why not use reverse psychology…create this mysterious character who seems to have an incredibly glamorous life, going to all these shows all over New York, and then writing about them?
And then I completely write myself out of the picture. All I talk about is the music, never myself. I don’t even write in the first person. Good Cop and Bad Cop? Pure fiction. Characters I invented so I could keep my chops sharp for writing dialogue.
Seriously – if you’ve followed this blog for any time at all, you’ve asked yourself, just who is this guy who’s writing this, right? Admit it – the question has occurred to you once or twice.
Obviously, you know that I’m a guy. Much as I usually try to write in a gender-neutral voice, there’ve been plenty of times I’ve said things here that only a guy would say. But beyond that, how much do you really know about me?
I may have written disdainfully about the pastimes of the children of the idle classes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not one of them. I may have carried on about the perils of gentrification, but that doesn’t mean I’m not cashing in on the real estate bubble. I’ve referenced the terror of the Bush/Cheney years, and the sheer idiocy of the Bloomberg nanny state, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a Republican. And I could have been a lot more political, I could have spoken out more than I have on behalf of the Palestinians, or the people of Afghanistan or Ukraine, or young black and latino men in New York. But for the most part I held my fire – I didn’t want to alienate everybody, because everybody knows that if you do that, you’ll never be famous.
Looking back to when I started this blog, I had assumed that by now, the world would be asking themselves, just who is this mystery man? What hot neighborhood does he live in? What kind of hot car does he drive? What does his hot girlfriend look like, and what’s her name?
By now, whether or not you’ve followed this blog for awhile, you already know the answers to those questions. If I lived in a hot neighborhood, I could afford to go to any show I wanted to see instead of having to grovel for press tickets. If I had a hot car, I would have been home hours ago and would have wrapped up writing this by now. As for the hot girlfriend, you know there’s no woman alive who’d put up with a guy who’s always out late, by himself, at places where hot single girls hang out, who then comes home and stays up into the wee hours hunched over his laptop with his headphones on.
And I’m sick of it, all of it. Sick of women in the neighborhood chatting me up by asking, “Do you rent or do you own?” Hell, I guess I should be grateful that they don’t automatically assume I’m a renter.
I’m sick of taking the train everywhere. Do you know how disgusting and unreliable the New York City subway is? I’ve had enough of dodging homeless psychos smeared from head to toe in their own feces…being surrounded by crowds of screaming kids from the Bronx and Flushing…suffering through three-hour rides between Manhattan and Brooklyn where I have to take four different trains and I get home just as the sun is coming up. I want to be able to go to the lot, get in my car like a normal person and drive to wherever I’m going.
And I’m especially sick of sitting here with just this keyboard and a bottle of bordeaux – ok, the bordeaux I like, very much, it can stay, but I’m sick of having nobody to share it with. I’m not bad looking, I surprise myself with how much college muscle I still have left, I can still run a mean thirty-meter dash and as you know, if you’ve read this far, I live for conversation. I can talk your ear off.
And I see a guy like, say, Louis C.K., and I say to myself, that guy isn’t all that good looking, all he talks about is banal and mundane and kind of crude, and me, I’m better looking than that and more urbane and I have all this big education and high-profile experience…but that guy has women lined up around the block, and I’m here by myself with a bottle. Again. What’s wrong with me?
And the answer is obvious. He’s famous, I’m not.
That’s going to change.
Since reverse psychology didn’t work, I’m going to plan B. What’s coolest is that if you get in on the ground floor with me, you get to share the fame – and nobody ever said that I’m not generous. What’s more, I’m going to be an overnight sensation – and you can be one too.
How are we going to pull this off?
See, one of the few fringe benefits of being a blogger is that you sometimes get to mingle with people in the entertainment industry. Through one of my few remaining friends – if you go to as many concerts as I do, you don’t get to see your friends all that much, and they sort of drift away – I made a connection at a content provider. No, not one of the big three tv networks, and obviously not Fox because my politics aren’t that far out. Beyond the fact that you’ll be able to see it worldwide, I can’t be any more specific, on the advice of my entertainment lawyer.
What we’re going to do is the world’s most popular reality tv show. It’s called All About Me. It’s like nothing that’s ever been done before, which is why it’s going to be epic. And it’s more meta than any show that ever aired. Forget about The Truman Show, or Larry Sanders, or Larry David. That’s kid stuff.
This will star me, an absolute nobody, and will follow me around as I get more and more famous and it won’t be long before I’m the most recognized face on earth. Think about how huge the potential audience is: I’m Everyman. Not everybody who sees the show will think the concept all the way through, but they’ll know it intuitively. My struggle to achieve unprecedented worldwide fame perfectly mirrors the deepest yearnings of every man, woman and child alive today! This show’s going to pre-empt the Super Bowl and the Oscars!
And there’ll be residuals like nothing that’s ever happened before: syndication, merch and licensing like you’ve never imagined, worldwide theme parks, and most importantly, an online community that in time will render the internet itself obsolete! A global network of household and workplace minicams, all streaming in real time, available by subscription at competitive rates depending on the nation – maybe $100 or more per month in the U.S., down to maybe a few cents in Haiti, installation and maintenance not included. Can you imagine, say, three billion people around the world all auditioning to be in their region’s next season of All About Me, in real time, 24/7/365, and each of them paying on average about $30 a month? That’s three hundred sixty BILLION dollars PER YEAR. Our earnings will go up even more when we start charging for VOD, premium access and various VIP levels for auditions.
And we can always kick back a few pennies on the dollar to everybody who’s willing, you know, to get his wife or girlfriend to strip for the camera or whatever in order to make a few extra bucks. That’ll be the main pitch for premium access.
And that’s just the entertainment side. All this universal video has all kinds of applications for national intelligence, corporate security and law enforcement. Just for starters, can you imagine the government contracts? Obviously, the police unions won’t like it, but you know how technology makes various jobs obsolete. The way this plays out, we basically become law enforcement. But that’s something we can get into down the road when we’re trillionaires.
And since I can only stretch myself so thin, I need people to be rich and famous along with me. We’ll be the RICHEST AND MOST FAMOUS PEOPLE ALIVE! Think about it: what would you rather do, go to a dumb dayjob where you’re underpaid and unappreciated, hang out with a bunch of broke-ass losers, live in a cruddy apartment in a creepy neighborhood and spend what little free time you have trolling OKCupid…or banging to a celebrity dj in Ibiza, with unlimited bottles of whatever you feel like drinking, surrounded by more supermodels than you could possibly hook up with in a single night?
All this starts on my Kickstarter page. Like everybody else, I’m doling out plenty of free goodies for various levels of sponsorship. $10 gets you an autographed picture, $30 a personalized playlist, $100 a cd compilation of obscure bands I’ve played in over the years. Moving toward the top end, $10,000 gets you a night out in Bushwick with yours truly, complete with an artisanal chocolate on your pillow at the end of the evening. But all that’s just to sweeten the pot. Foundation sponsors who contribute at least $50,000 GET TO CO-STAR IN THE FIRST SEASON OF THE SHOW WITH ME. I have basic scripts for three pilot episodes. I just need co-stars. And money.
And you know that if there’s one thing I do really well, it’s write. Once I get to know you, I’ll script you a part that will not only be perfect for your character, but will make YOU an OVERNIGHT REALITY TV SENSATION along with me. Do you have what it takes to want fame, to CRAVE it as badly as I do? Now’s your moment: you snooze, you lose. Hit my Kickstarter page to get in on the ground floor and don’t forget to friend me on Facebook.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot, there’s this obscure blog called New York Music Daily that needs somebody to write for it now.