Andy Warhol, Steven Spielberg, and Bianca Jagger sit on a bed and discuss TV and radio. Society idolizes the rich and famous to such a degree that one would think these people--who brought us pop art, Indiana Jones, and, well, Jade Jagger, respectively--would somehow be more interesting than the rest of us. Evidently not. At least not when they're sitting around in a hotel room. Oh, some of it is interesting, but if these were three unknowns saying the same things I bet you would be bored stiff.
Galileo, famous for inventing the telescope
As we strive and connive to attain our goals, to do good work, or to simply crack the code of success--let's remember the rich and famous put their pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of us. Or they have someone else put their pants on for them, but you know what I mean. They are not a separate species. We know this, yet for some reason we remain mystified. We're obsessed. Turn on the TV, and note how much programming is devoted to celebrity and fame. Some people have accomplished great things, but some are simply famous for being famous.
Donnie, famous for his chili
This mystification is reflected in the famous exchange between Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald: "The rich are not like us." Hemingway: "Yes, they have more money."
The myth prevails. The grass is always greener...things must be better elsewhere, right? It must be more clever, fascinating, fun, comfortable. I'm reminded of the scene in Woody Allen's "Stardust Memories," when Woody sits in a dirty train, with dull, depressed people. A train pulls up alongside full of people in evening dress, drinking champagne, and having a wonderful time. A beautiful woman blows him a kiss. Woody tries desperately to change trains, but it's too late.