There’s No Biz Like Faux Biz

After an extensive search, the previously mentioned “lost” Flogging Whip was found under Rihanna’s CD trying to slip in-between those frustrating tight plastic clasps to give her a ripe ole’ reminder of what it feels like to be bashed in the face before she goes out to record another questionable “I love pain” tune.

The temporary loss of snark made a sharp comeback after the whip realized it couldn’t penetrate the gate of the music industry’s desire to turn all young women singers into clones of ho’s. Geez. Will Taylor Swift be next? Her rep’s have already begun playing the PR game when they tucked her under Jake Fakes-it-for-You-All’s long arms for a few weeks. At least she was still wearing colors and didn’t strut around in Virgin White boost-the-yay’s during that adorable “relationship.”

Do I sound too jaded or cynical regarding the above pairing? Yes and no. One is indeed sleeping under a heavy comforter pinned down as if anchored by a rock unable to shake the sand out of their eyes if they believe the crock of numerous entertainment-based faux-mances. And, according to what I have been told, read, and have witnessed, quite a few of those arrangements thrive to this day – usually to control rumours that one of the two are gay. If not the feared-by-most-leading-men "gay" label and/or revelation, then something else is in play in the couplings of many high profile figures.

Amazing that such “marriage of convenience” machinations continue on – decade after decade. Meanwhile, the "sanctity of marriage" is pulled-out at every turn regarding not allowing loving gay couples to legally seal the deal when it's real.

Ultimately, it’s not my - or your - business to crawl around outside the home of a celebrity to find out who is sharing their Pratesi sheets. It really isn’t (unless you’re a pro PI or a rogue paparazzo). Everyone deserves their privacy. All of us are entitled to determine who knows what about us and how far we want to go in allowing people into our homes or thoughts.

What upsets a great deal of fans and “onlookers” is when said high profile couples turn their business arrangements into world news under the guise of “love” and “family” – jumping on couches, marrying in lavish ceremonies at a cost which could bail out half of California’s debt, and provide endless photo op’s of strained or excessive PDA to desperately cling to an image of so-happy-together. Couldn’t they keep it – uh – dignified? It’s been done.

Now, would you consider such performances to be hypocritical or simply part of the cliché'd “fame game”? Think about it. In many ways, duty calls before love, and I have had a great deal of empathy for anyone who must marry, or at the least, become publicly involved with a partner with whom they have no chemistry or desire to bed based on their “position” in life – such as nobility – or through cultural edicts.

How awful it had to have been for Prince Charles to seek a virgin to marry when he was in love with another woman? How awful for Princess Diana to fall in love with a man who was merely doing his duty and neglected to tell her so along the courtship way? But, that’s very old news and this time around, a Prince is allowed to marry the woman he loves  - i.e.; Prince William and Kate Middleton.

I digress, of course, from the ultimate point of the flog: that my whip was found; Rihanna must like to bind or be bound; women/girl singers have to look like used-up coffee grounds; cute little entertainment newbies are soon thrown into a faux ring of liar fire by playing along with a worn-out image tire as if both individuals involved are a one-night hire.

Not that I don’t understand entertainment PR-land. It’s just that some of it has "gotten out of hand"…..

Written by Shauna Z’s ubiquitous Stream of Conscientiousness