"While money doesn't talk, it swears; Obscenity, who really cares; Propaganda, all is phony." -- Bob Dylan.
Money -- that makes-the-world-go-'round, root-of-all-evil, changes-everything, talking-while-BS-is-walking entity -- crossed a line this past week. The line it crossed may have been the one that separates "sublime" and "ridiculous." It may have been the line between "in poor taste" and "egregious." Maybe it was the line used to separate "upstanding" and "fallen." Money finally put the pedal to the metal and sped past "bad" right into the heart of "evil."
While I may be unsure of the severity of the line recently crossed by money, I can tell you without hesitation the instrument used to drag it across its final boundary: George Michael.
You remember George, don't you? He of the '80s pop duo Wham! The guy who forged an MTV-fueled career on the basis of his unshaven, pretty-boy good looks and disposable pop hits like "Careless Whisper." The guy who has spent more time in the headlines recently for his penchant for dangerous gay sex in public settings than for anything musical. Yeah, that George Michael.
It turns out that while you were trying to stay awake until midnight on New Year's Eve with Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest to watch the big ball drop, old George was scoring the gig of a lifetime. A Russian billionaire flew George in and had him perform a 13-song, 75-minute set for an intimate group at a private party. Get this: The price tag for having George croon a few bars of "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" and other assorted pieces of throwaway pop? $3.3 million.
I've heard of people paying big jack for sex, but this Rooskie dropped $44,000 per minute for "I Want Your Sex." Forget what George Michael trolls for at public restrooms, this is truly obscene. It's not that I begrudge folks spending their money as they see fit, but paying any entertainer $3.3 million for a little over an hour's worth of work is both excessive and wasteful.
In the interest of full disclosure, I offer the following declaration: I hate the rich. More accurately, I hate anyone born into money. I've known more than a few self-made men and found them to be among the most talented and entertaining people anywhere. It's their kids who are the problem.
If "philanthropy" is the most noble of words, then "entitlement" sits at the opposite end of the spectrum. You'll never meet anything more helpless than a rich man's son. Baby seals staring up at a bloody club are downright fearsome by comparison. I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to bet the Russian billionaire inherited the bulk of his fortune. No one who has worked hard to amass wealth would part with such a chunk of change in such a foolhardy manner.
It isn't just Russian moneymen that are getting stupid with their rubles, either. Their American counterparts are doing their best to keep pace. The billionaires behind the Anschutz Entertainment Group ponied up $250 million over five years to have English soccer star David Beckham play for one of their holdings, the Los Angeles Galaxy of the MLS.
While Beckham is a legend everywhere else, most folks here couldn't tell him from Jeff Beck on a $20 dare. Soccer may be king the world over, but it barely makes a blip on the U.S. professional sports scene. Be honest, how many of you knew there was a team called the Los Angeles Galaxy before last week? How many knew anything about Beckham except that he's married to a former Spice Girl?
Again, billionaires can spend their money any way they deem fit, but $250 million seems like a lot of dough to toss at a sport that appears on ESPN less than professional bowling and billiards. Beckham will be receiving approximately $137,000 per day over the next five years to bend it around L.A. The Anschutz Entertainment Group hopes the money they are spending will raise the sport of soccer to higher status here. Seems like the same was said when Pele came to play in America in the '70s.
All of this money madness even began rubbing off on commoners. A mystery man, known only by the initials J.P., started a Web site to raise $2.5 million for a commercial during the Super Bowl. What would J.P. do with his opportunity to speak to the largest television audience of the year? Would he ask for donations to end hunger? Would he draw attention to the rising AIDS rate? Would he make a plea for world peace? No, old J.P. just wants to propose to his girlfriend in "the most public declaration of love in the history of mankind."
Which raises the question: Of what merit is a woman who would accept a $2.5 million proposal? If J.P.'s intended has any moxie, I'd expect her to watch that commercial, as he knelt beside her on bended knee, then reach down to slap him good and hard across his misguided face. Love is many things, but at its most noble, it's surely free.
It will probably be a moot point because, as of this writing, J.P.'s Web site has raised only $75,000, and he is now seeking a corporation to spot him the $2.5 million. Maybe he should give George Michael a call.
The rich have always spent millions the way the rest of us spend nickels. Kim Basinger once dropped $20 million to buy a town in Georgia. MC Hammer's entourage went through every last dollar of his $33 million fortune -- proving that indeed they could "touch this." Wacko Jacko dropped over $6 million into cash registers on a shopping spree captured in the "Living with Michael Jackson" documentary.
I'd like to think that if I were ever put into a millionaire's shoes, I'd live humbly and give it all away to charity before I died. Maybe that's a fool's thought, because it seems that even the celebrities from the most impoverished backgrounds take quickly to a lifestyle of the rich and famous once their star ascends.
Maybe J.P. can offer us all a little hope. Once he realized he wasn't going to come up with enough money for the Super Bowl spot, he donated the $75,000 to the Vanderbilt Children's Hospital in Nashville, Tenn. Trading in a narcissistic dream for a philanthropic gesture of goodwill is a great way to show a young lass that you're worthy of her hand in marriage and a country that you're worthy of its respect.
I hope that the billionaires of the world were paying attention.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | January 16 2007 |