Dogs and Newspapers

An article in the newspaper caught my eye: Martha Stewart’s dog died.

Is this really newsworthy? Are we, the semi-literate public, so obsessed with the lives of celebrities that now we are concerned with their pets? What would Lewis Black say?

Somehow our lives have become so dull, so vapid, so unfulfilling that we need to harvest and maximize vicarious pleasure, pain, or whatever other emotions we don’t experience to a satisfying extent, from others. Is it really a grass-is-greener phenomenon, or is it something deeper? It’s almost as if we can’t entertain ourselves.

In the old days (oops) we would invent games, use our imaginations, and find self-worth in how we occupied ourselves. We played alone or found hobbies; we read books and learned how to play musical instruments; or we played with friends and developed social skills. Nowadays attention spans have shrunk, immediacy is king, and all must have loud noise and stupendous crashes and chase scenes. And somehow our own lives aren’t good enough to maintain our own focus; no, we need those glamorous celebrities, and, heaven forbid, their pets.

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