The notion of
celebrity in this world is an odd one. It is as odd as, I suppose, aliens nearly taking the world over and and a tesseract pulling the fictitious into reality could possibly be.
Children with their Captain America shields, their Hulk fists and their Iron Man masks cling to the notion that they are
safe because these folks (these folks who more or less live in our building, excepting a few) watch over them.
Clearly not very well, or this whole messy business would be fixedAnd people need to believe that they are safe. From what, I ask? Perhaps from aliens, from trickster gods. From vampires. From the likes of
us. Even we without powers are representative of danger; we drain resources, we shift attention, we sometimes delve too deep without meaning to at all.
It's the emulation that is - I think - perhaps the most interesting. Why just yesterday I counted no less than ten individuals crowded around the doorway in their best impression of Tony Stark's facial hair. It's really a very poor rendering but sweet that they try, all the same.
Nevertheless, I have determined that the only way to be of any use to anyone is to make nice with our folks who have the home-planet advantage. They are ever so
nice for all of their fists and their "manscaping" ... and I embrace them with open arms. Where ever my talent lies in this world (Hermès gets a photoshoot for supplying me with a collection of scarves), I intend to use my own face for some modicum of good.