A Star is Worn
Is it possible to be positively enraptured by the music of someone who repels you?
Barbra Streisand is even a fellow Democrat, yet I want nothing to do with her -- aside from listening to her sing, that is.
I have no use for the diva, the prima donna, the snoot.
I can't abide them.
Streisand is a marvelous talent, obviously. Her voice is one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of listening to.
It's too bad that she's such a rotten person.
"Well, you've never even met her! You don't know her!'
A) Don't have to; and B) Don't care to.
Come on, there are some celebrities who you can peg a mile away. Streisand is one of those.
One way to get on my bad side -- and it doesn't matter if the offender even realizes or cares about landing on that side of me -- is to act superior to all others. To act as if one's feces carries no odor.
I remember Rosie O'Donnell, who's about as opposite from Streisand as you can be in the snob department, having Streisand (one of Rosie's idols) on her television talk show, several years ago.
Oh, what Rosie's staff went through that hellish day.
Barbra didn't like the lighting. Barbra didn't like the way the set faced. Barbra wanted to make sure she was shot from a certain angle. Barbra made all sorts of demands for her dressing room.
And Rosie did it all -- kowtowed to every one of Babs' demands, it was reported, all because she didn't want to tick off her idol.
The kicker for me was when it was revealed that Rosie's set had been torn down (!) and re-built, just so Barbra's lighting and camera angle could be just perfect for Ms. Diva.
Puh-leeze.
I wonder where these ladies get off, acting in such a manner.
Isn't it enough to be revered and adored for your singing ability?
You have to go and act like you're the be all and end all to civilization?
It comes to my mind in the wake of Michael Jackson's death. I got to thinking about megastar performers and the aura they have. Naturally, it led me to think of the divas and their self-appointed place at the center of the universe.
My feelings about this are underlined when I think about two men closely associated with the Detroit Tigers.
Longtime manager Sparky Anderson, in his book They Call Me Sparky, often refers to how he enjoyed going to the ballpark in Detroit and greeting all the employees upon his arrival.
From the ticket takers to the ushers to the custodians, Sparky said he was careful to treat each of them with respect and dignity.
Ernie Harwell, the legendary broadcaster, subscribed to the same theory -- that everyone is a human being and should be treated as such.
So I look at this approach, and then I see what the diva types do to anyone in their tornado of a path, and I can only shake my head.
Someone should clue them in that we're all going to the same maker when our time on Earth is done. And there, it doesn't matter how wildly popular you were when you were among the living.
Diana Ross is another one whose music I have felt guilty enjoying, for I find her mostly reprehensible.
Her disrespecting of her Supremes group mates, especially Florence Ballard, was both notorious and disgusting. Then Ross had the audacity to show up at Ballard's funeral, barely on time, in a limousine, and proceeded to sit by Flo's family, despite requests to the contrary.
She was photographed, Ross was, comforting Ballard's young daughter. It was a photo opp that Diana made sure would happen, thanks to her muscling her way in to the spotlight.
Ross is another who's played the diva role to the hilt over the years.
Their behavior also makes me peeved because it has taken a lot of the enjoyment out of their music, for me. I feel guilty, literally, of liking it, because I have such little regard for Barbra Streisand and Diana Ross as human beings.
Because they, to me, appear to have such little regard for human beings themselves -- at least those who are not millionaires.
It's a shame, really. But they have their fans, tons of them, and I wonder how many of those zealots turn a blind eye to the divas' abhorrent behavior.
An awful lot, apparently.
That makes me uneasy, too.
Barbra Streisand is even a fellow Democrat, yet I want nothing to do with her -- aside from listening to her sing, that is.
I have no use for the diva, the prima donna, the snoot.
I can't abide them.
Streisand is a marvelous talent, obviously. Her voice is one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of listening to.
It's too bad that she's such a rotten person.
"Well, you've never even met her! You don't know her!'
A) Don't have to; and B) Don't care to.
Come on, there are some celebrities who you can peg a mile away. Streisand is one of those.
One way to get on my bad side -- and it doesn't matter if the offender even realizes or cares about landing on that side of me -- is to act superior to all others. To act as if one's feces carries no odor.
I remember Rosie O'Donnell, who's about as opposite from Streisand as you can be in the snob department, having Streisand (one of Rosie's idols) on her television talk show, several years ago.
Oh, what Rosie's staff went through that hellish day.
Barbra didn't like the lighting. Barbra didn't like the way the set faced. Barbra wanted to make sure she was shot from a certain angle. Barbra made all sorts of demands for her dressing room.
And Rosie did it all -- kowtowed to every one of Babs' demands, it was reported, all because she didn't want to tick off her idol.
The kicker for me was when it was revealed that Rosie's set had been torn down (!) and re-built, just so Barbra's lighting and camera angle could be just perfect for Ms. Diva.
Puh-leeze.
I wonder where these ladies get off, acting in such a manner.
Isn't it enough to be revered and adored for your singing ability?
You have to go and act like you're the be all and end all to civilization?
It comes to my mind in the wake of Michael Jackson's death. I got to thinking about megastar performers and the aura they have. Naturally, it led me to think of the divas and their self-appointed place at the center of the universe.
My feelings about this are underlined when I think about two men closely associated with the Detroit Tigers.
Longtime manager Sparky Anderson, in his book They Call Me Sparky, often refers to how he enjoyed going to the ballpark in Detroit and greeting all the employees upon his arrival.
From the ticket takers to the ushers to the custodians, Sparky said he was careful to treat each of them with respect and dignity.
Ernie Harwell, the legendary broadcaster, subscribed to the same theory -- that everyone is a human being and should be treated as such.
So I look at this approach, and then I see what the diva types do to anyone in their tornado of a path, and I can only shake my head.
Someone should clue them in that we're all going to the same maker when our time on Earth is done. And there, it doesn't matter how wildly popular you were when you were among the living.
Diana Ross is another one whose music I have felt guilty enjoying, for I find her mostly reprehensible.
Her disrespecting of her Supremes group mates, especially Florence Ballard, was both notorious and disgusting. Then Ross had the audacity to show up at Ballard's funeral, barely on time, in a limousine, and proceeded to sit by Flo's family, despite requests to the contrary.
She was photographed, Ross was, comforting Ballard's young daughter. It was a photo opp that Diana made sure would happen, thanks to her muscling her way in to the spotlight.
Ross is another who's played the diva role to the hilt over the years.
Their behavior also makes me peeved because it has taken a lot of the enjoyment out of their music, for me. I feel guilty, literally, of liking it, because I have such little regard for Barbra Streisand and Diana Ross as human beings.
Because they, to me, appear to have such little regard for human beings themselves -- at least those who are not millionaires.
It's a shame, really. But they have their fans, tons of them, and I wonder how many of those zealots turn a blind eye to the divas' abhorrent behavior.
An awful lot, apparently.
That makes me uneasy, too.
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