Self Aggrandizement for Fun and Profit

I really love people who raise self promotion to a higher level, who make not only a living but an art of showing themselves in their best light. Deep down inside, I wish I had this sort of gumption, but I'd just keep snickering and fucking it up.

Exhibit A: Sarah Brightman. Now, I know she has some rabid fans out there, and I assure you that I actually enjoy her performances (although not for the reasons an average fan would list, I grant you.)

In point of fact, she is not the best singer, she is not the best dancer, she is not the prettiest woman, and her tastes can lean towards the meretricious. However, combined with her incredible talent for self-promotion, the whole package becomes appealing. She tells us she is beautiful --- straight from the harem, as it were --- and we believe her. We have no choice.

Who would dare to posit herself as a sexy belly dancer, a frail Titanic-style consumptive, and a Moulin Rouged cabaret girl on a velvet swing --- all in one show --- besides the divine Sarah? No one, that's who, because no one else would dare. Sure, we'd all like to have a fancy tiara and be showered with rose petals, but we just don't believe we deserve it. Not Sarah; she even goes so far as to give away her very tiara as a contest prize because, of course, there isn't anyone alive who isn't lusting for a headpiece that had been touched by her raven locks.

And the audience eats it up. Vicarious wish fulfillment? Why the hell not?!

Exhibit B: Lea Thompson. She is now involved with a project on Hallmark Television (!) titled Jane Doe.

What I love about this show is that it is so unrealistic, even for the ridiculous premise, which is that Lea Thompson's character is a retired super-detective who has been lured out of retirement by her former boss/platonic flirtation/unrequited love interest. The catch? She has to keep all knowledge of her work from her normal-suburban-family (construction-career husband, pretty-and-annoying teen-aged daughter, precocious-and-annoying pre-teen son) for their own safety. Of course. (I seem to remember this show the first time it was on television. It was called Scarecrow and Mrs. King.)

Her character, Cathy Davis, is supposed to be an amazing solver of puzzles. Yet, in the episode I watched, it took her about a day and a half to realize that the list of addresses the evil mastermind was forcing her to visit all contained names of the signers of the Declaration of Independence (which happened to be the very item she was searching for. Do yourself a favor, don't ask. It's too complicated.) Ok, even I --- semi-retarded at best when it comes to puzzles, word games, what have you --- figured this out the second the list of addresses was read off. And you're going to tell me it took the genius THAT long to get it? Of course it did, it was an hour-long show.

Ok, so in addition to being a puzzle genius who can't get even simple clues before it's very nearly too late, she is also computer illiterate. She had to get help from her 12 year old son to enlarge a photo on her laptop TWICE. Why wasn't she paying attention the first time? What person --- let alone super genius puzzle detective --- doesn't know how to use a computer in this day and age?

Another delicious item is that Lea's character is an unwitting femme fatale. Yes, this completely average looking forty-something, getting-a-little-puffy-it's-ok-we've-all-been-there soccer mom gets hit on everywhere she goes. Everywhere. In fact, she beats out the totally hot, hipper-than-thou, late-20s-if-she's-a-day Asian detective, Helen, in getting hit on. Really. Because that happens in real life all the time.

But, for all of that, I still love the show. I love that Lea's puttin' it out there, wearing a hip baby tee that is just a little too tight for her, doing her best to convince us that she could be, it is entirely possible, a detective hottie of above average intelligence.

(As a little aside, I also loved the LIfetime-style porn they added to the end of the show: Lea comes home from a hard day retrieving the Declaration of Independence and getting into cat fights with Helen, and her adorable perfect husband has prepared a candlelight dinner. Just for her. With dessert planned for later, wink wink as he nuzzles her lovingly on the neck. Swooning ensues.

This just makes me laugh. If I'd known this is what women really want I would have been pimping Scott out years ago. He does all the cooking, he knows his way around a mop and broom, and he's as romantic as a box of Valentines. Solid gold, if the marketers targeting my demographic are to be believed. And he's still young enough to do what you tell him....)

Anyway, I admire these ladies' guts, I really do. I wish I could follow their example. I know we could all learn at least a little something about self-esteem from it, and probably should.

But, as they say, I'm glad I don't have their nerve in my tooth.