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February 26, 2008

Celeb for a Day

Goodness knows I have my problems. Well, maybe one. You know, the predictable "I work too hard" answer for a job interviewer's question about weaknesses. And then there's my second problem: I'm too humble. Some say that I'm also disturbingly blind to my own faults.

Point is, I ain't perfect. But I am grateful, hopefully not in the Luke 18:11 sense, that I'm not one of the poor souls who are willing to shell out a couple grand to be hounded by the paparazzi for an hour, in order to experience the celebrity life. I mean, I can't even stand talking to the historical actors in Colonial Williamsburg, because NO YOU AREN'T PATRICK HENRY, KNICKER-GUY, SO JUST PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!!! I mean what does a regular joe in a tricornered hat have to do to enjoy his authentic colonial gingerbread cookie and replica musket in peace?? I certainly cannot imagine walking around similarly pretending to "be somebody" while hired paparazzi make a public scene about me, so that gawkers might be envious. That's just sad.

Note: To any of you who *are* historical actors, I do say Thank You on behalf of my kids who eat that stuff up and learn a lot at the same time. It's just not my bag; I mean no offense. But ... if you hire faux paparazzi to follow you around in your ruffled shirt and powdered wig, then, yeah, you really do have problems.

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Almost or equally as bad as hawking off your baby to the highest-bidding tabloid:


It's the powdered wigs and ruffled shirt angst that would seem to suggest a certain, how shall we say it, insecurity in young Thornburgh?

A real man can feel right at home with a little ruffle here and there. I just get this police brutality thing from this posting somehow, like maybe Officer Thornburgh enjoyed roughing up some who didn't measure up to his supposed standard of manhood. Just a thought.

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