I was thinking about this a little more. About Kylie and Tyga and Kim and Khloe and Kris and Reggie Bush and Kanye and Lamar Odom and the entirely warped world that has become Kardashian Nation.
Specifically, I was thinking about fame. And how inane it is.
There are things in the world that are real, and things that are fake. A rock is real. A plant is real. A person standing before you is real. My table is real.
Fame, however, is fake. It’s a creation that measures, quite bluntly, nothing of value or worth. One can become famous out of societal uplift (Steve Jobs, Martin Luther King), but one can also be Snooki or Steve Bartman or that woman who appeared in seemingly every other Real World-Road Rules Challenge. So if one is drawn to societal uplift, he/she might—*might*—marry someone famous. But the more-than-likely reality is you’ll marry a really wonderful and decent person. Like I did. My wife isn’t super famous, but she’s a remarkable social worker and someone whose company I genuinely enjoy; someone I’m proud of.
Now, if you’re a Kardashian, and your clear, 100-percent marital goal is fame and spotlight, you’ve got troubles. Yeah, there’s probably a 1% chance you land the next MLK. But it’s a 99% chance the next MLK would want nothing to do with someone whose marital goal is fame and spotlight. Why? A. Because he’s about bettering humanity; B. He wants a spouse whose best friend isn’t the mirror; C. He wants a marriage that extends past 8 1/2 months.
So what that leaves the Kardashians with are the famous-for-being famous crowd folk. But not all of them. Some famous people are famous for being gifted in music, or theater, or dance, or writing, or whatever. And, generally, they’ll either marry someone equally famous in their field, or someone not famous at all. Therefore, if you’re a Kardashian, you’re left with the lowest rung of the spectrum: Those who consider fame—not accomplishment or betterment—the end game. That’s how you wind up with underachievers like Reggie Bush, crap rappers like Tyga, overrated soulless buckets like Kanye West. They find one another, like toads piddling along the bottom of a murky tank. Then they multiple, creating more toads.
Then the world explodes, humanity dies off and dust turns to dust.
