Photo via nymag
Now that we’ve seen the back end of “The Wedding of the Century”, it’s about time we all saw the back end of Kim and Kanye. And no, we don’t mean another cheap shot of Kim’s rear end.
We’re certain the “world’s most talked about couple” feel they have a lot to be stoked about. We also think they have plenty to be ashamed of. If it isn’t for their classy quasi-root on Kanye’s Ducati (now immortalised in another “genius” music video, though not Kim’s first cameo) or for delivering another of history’s dumbest quotes, it’s for the fact that their dangerously toxic levels of celebrity narcissism are poisoning the average person’s idea of “normal”.
Celebrity self-obsession is demonstrated no better than in Kimye. Their “aspirational” brand now permeates pop-culture so profoundly that as the world crumbles down around us, we allow ourselves to remain fixated on two fucked up egoists who pose on the world stage, with the sole focus of promoting their general state of just being “way better”. While Kimye continues to flourish by way of media hits and brand endorsements, more and more consumers begin to decay with Celebrity Worship Syndrome. Constant expressionless “perfection” and artificial … everything, just isn’t something to aspire to. Is it?
“At the end of the day, I’m going down as a legend, whether you like me or not. I am the new Jim Morrison. I am the new Kurt Cobain. I’m like Steve Jobs. If anything, that’s a compliment to them.”
A legend of what Kanye? We’re still really confused…
The truth is, the day we can smack ourselves across the head and cease the fruitless consumption of these wax works, will be the day the precious mirror begins to melt. Are you one of the people still asking themselves why Kimye is still in your face? Perhaps you’re among the millions of consumers who just cannot help but click, follow and search this famous double act, all because the pangs of curiosity during a slow work day are just too hard to stifle. A misleading headline sucks you in, but you inevitably discover, it’s just one more bland account of Kim’s surgically untouched, Versace wrapped ass, emerging from yet another irrelevant appearance. Don’t be fooled, Kimye is a virulent celebrity parasite. Just as we begin to grow immune, it mutates, sending the tacky opulence to another unprecedented level. Testament to this is their recent Italian Wedding, where every extra E News dollar spent on gold spun balloons and Imperial toasting flutes, has warranted its own “news” story.
“But I do want to make clear that I would never marry for a TV show, for money, for anything like that. I think that’s really ridiculous that I have to even defend that.”
Okay Kimmy…
If you’re hustling for Kimye’s take-down, consider this. Celebrities are spawned from public interest in the weird, wealthy, talented and/or beautiful. The longevity of this interest is generally driven by media, however media’s life source is money. The money is supplied by brands, but their advertising dollar is only worth the spend if people consume the content. If you don’t gobble it up, the media won’t share it. And when celebrities can no longer sell magazines, brands pull their endorsement and the circle is completed. No one’s pointing a finger at the media, but consider wisely what you consume, as what you consume today, you will be fed tomorrow. What do you think?
The moral of the story is, the longer you labor over Kim’s last lip injection or Kanye’s latest Louis Vuitton loafers, the more Kimye you are likely to cop. If you, as we, are really that over it, treat the situation as you would a mature break-up and stop checking in. Nourish your brain by seeking content that blows your mind and opens your eyes – rather than Kim’s, by helping to pay for her next brow lift. And if you do simply just love it for its entertainment value and harmless escapism, please just consider humanity and take a punch for the rest of the population – at least find another celebrity obsession, one a little less frightening than the monster that is Kimye.
Written by Brooke Boyschau and Angus McNicol.
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