Monday, June 06, 2005

stalker or soulmate? you be the judge

About 10 years ago I had a friend who would often call me in the middle of the night. A typical conversation would go something like this:

Me: "Umm... hello?"
He: "I think she'd like me..."
Me: "Wha? Greg? Who do you think would like you? What time is it?"
He: (usually it was Liz Phair or Sarah McLachlan).
Me: "You think she'd like you? Why?"
He: "I really think we could hit it off."
Me: "Sure, given the chance (which you will never get), there is a slim possibility that she will look past your stalker-like obsession with her to see your pure motives... but you're never going to get that chance."
He: "THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! Why can't I go out with (insert object of obsession here)? Cultural elitism is keeping me away from my soulmate..."

It went downhill from there, but you get the gist.

Ten years is a mighty long time in internet years, so discerning stalkers have new tools at their disposal. Like this chap who started as an online... well, cry for help is a phrase that comes to mind. He's basically got a portfolio of reasons why he thinks the universe owes him dinner and a chat with Natalie Portman. His site got a million hits in the first week, and since one of his key tactics is to try to get his message to someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows Natalie, I'm thinking he's got the six-degrees of separation thing on his side, but possibly also a third-degree stalking charge that won't look too good on his resume.

The few times I've been in the presence of a musician/actor/author that I admired, I figured the best thing I could do for them is just leave them the hell alone. They are generally either just trying to live their lives (in which case intruding would be rude) or they are self-absorbed with their fame (in which case I wouldn't want to talk to them anyway). The ones who refer to themselves as 'celebrities' (yea, sorry bud but that means you, Wil) really get me... what is it they think is being celebrated? You were on TV? Whoop-ti-fucking-do.