Ichabod's Kin
A place for politics, pop culture, and social issues

The meaning of celebrity, and who ought to be whose heroes.

The world is at odds with itself over the imminent return of Tiger Woods. Golfers are united in the conviction that it’s the best of all worst worlds–else, no one will care, let alone watch the PGA. All others are split over the morality of the occasion, not to mention events surrounding last Thanksgiving.

There’s not a little posturing over all of this; in extreme cases it’s known as self-righteousness. When it was rumored that Elin had banged his noggin with a golden nine-iron, after what surely was an opulent feast of turkey followed by her becoming privy to his flagrant texting to various and sundry little tarts scattered about lush resorts left in his wake, it was deemed to be a matter of justice rendered in good measure. Of course, had she been the betrayer, and Tiger had busted her chops with as little as a stalk of cooked asparagus, the PC Police would have said that no sin on the part of a woman deserved violence on behalf of the man.

As said in an earlier Post, tell the public to do something, and they won’t; tell them not to, and they will, especially when it comes to beloved celebrities, except when given an excuse to stop loving them–to which was added the postscript: Ain’t love grand?

Another ongoing hypocrisy has to do with the “obligation” Tiger has–besides to his adoring, free moral agents over twenty-one–to the children of this world who ostensibly have no real heroes save a singular golfer amid the mass of those on pro tour. Few if any such moralists suggest that kids strive to be their own heroes, let alone have parents to take up the cause. Parents, feeling already overwhelmed with issues of child-raising, prefer that this duty fall to others outside their families.

I risk repeating that Tiger’s gift is both blessing and curse, with the added burden of being everybody’s hero, in the absence of others who have abdicated the role.

Along with Tiger’s being also a “brand” that is ogled and bought, when something goes wrong at his house, as it does in yours and mine, we believe that such investment makes us the Morality Police for incidents in his abode, but not in our own.

I have lost no sleep over his loss of endorsement income and care not a fig that various vast corporations that happily embraced Tiger as a Cash Cow have since abandoned ship. Stay tuned, because once he wins another tournament, they will be back with hats in hand.

As for our beloved children, whom we deem eminently resilient regarding our shortcomings but not those of others, I repeat: how about the idea that their lives aren’t dependent on any celebrity, but on themselves; or that if we insist they have heroes, to be such for them. And if we can’t, why not?

They’re our kids, so it’s our job, not Tiger’s.