On Being A Pupkin

I've decided that I'd like to be famous. For anything really, I'm not picky. Writing would be nice, obviously, but I'd be okay with being famous for creating a hot, new style of rap, or maybe for inventing a kind of delicious, edible hat. I'd even be willing to take a bullet for someone who's already famous (George Clooney, for example... rawr!) because, if that happened, I could at the very least get on CNN. Again, what I get famous for isn't really the issue; I'll take what I can get.

Actually, the fame, per se, isn't really what I'm after either. From what I understand, when you get famous, people are always bugging you to sign crap, to talk to them, to smile for the camera, to say "something witty." Puh-leeze. I won't even do that stuff for my girlfriend, much less a bunch of yahoos who, I assume, smell. No, it's really the things that come with fame that I'm after; specifically, the money and the power. Okay, just the money. I'd like to have just an obscene amount of money so I could buy myself and my friends (mostly just me, though) really expensive electronics and nice pairs of tennis shoes and even a fancy condo somewhere on a beach where I could have frosty, fruity beverages made with fine, imported rums brought to me ever 20 minutes for the rest of my life.

That, kids, is what I'd like.

However, I'm pretty sure it's not going to happen. Oh, it's not that I don't think I've got the talent or anything; I'm reasonably sure that edible hat idea would go over like gangbusters and, when it comes to writing, I'm at least better than Dean Koontz and that guy's sold tons of books. It's more that I don't like feeling like a Pupkin.

Allow me to explain: Rupert Pupkin (pictured above) is a character played by Robert De Niro in Martin Scorsese's 70's classic The King of Comedy. He's a schlub who wants nothing more than to be a famous comedian and he goes about this by hounding, badgering, cajoling, stalking and eventually kidnapping a very famous talk show host, played surprisingly well by Jerry Lewis. It goes without saying that Pupkin is out of his mind, but that's not the point. The point is, he's one of those types; the ones that are so singularly focused on "achieving their goals" that it becomes all that they are about. Of course, for the sake of the movie, this is blown out of proportion and taken to it's most illogical extremes. But I've known the real-world Rupert Pupkins and they are a scary, irritating lot. Example: A good friend of mine wants to be a [generic artistic profession]. Badly. So badly, in fact, that it's all she ever talks about. It's all she ever thinks about. It's all she's about, period, and it's a big part of why I don't really hang out with her anymore. Will she "achieve her dream?" Probably, to one degree or another, because people who are Pupkins generally annoy enough of the right people to be allowed into the fabled gated-community known as Fame. But only at the cost of being someone nobody wants to hang out with, under normal circumstances.

As for myself, I can never, will never be a Pupkin. I don't have it in me. I don't have that passion to devote myself to a lifetime of schmoozing and networking (gag) and chatting up people, constantly, about my amazing line of edible hats (now in Sour Cream & Onion!) or my ability to write sentences that amuse those with low standards. Maybe it's the way I was raised, or maybe it's because of a certain weakness of character, or maybe it's because I'd simply prefer to sit around and drink beer all the time... I'll let you draw your own conclusions. But the fact remains the same; I'm not a Pupkin. And therefore, I'll never be famous.

So, my point, finally, is this... Would one of you guys mind terribly dropping fame in my lap, because I'm certainly not up to grabbing that brass ring on my own. I'd really appreciate it and, hey, when I'm famous, I'll sign anything you want me to. As long as you keep the fruity drinks coming.

Thanks!!!