"Celebrities," someone said, "are getting up my nose. It just proves that shit rises to the top."
"Charisma," PCH added, "is what gets them to the top when they have no talent. In all fields of endeavour, only mediocrity is always at its best."
"Yeh, Bazz agreed, "when you watch these shows, the reaction of the audience is 50% of the performance."
"And the reactions of the judges."
The cellars were alive with the sound of griping, and there was a good supply of knives to be stuck into the backs of media stars and pretty orphans of talent.
And journalists. "Everything is possible if you don't know what you're talking about. It must be true, I saw it on TV, or read it in the paper."
I must agree that success has made a failure of many, look at any paper or magazine. One-bottle wonders are found in the wine industry too. Whenever I get to meet wine makers like this, I remind them that they are one of a kind, just like everyone else.
"Perhaps, WT," PCH said, holding out his glass for a refill of a Penfolds St Henri Shiraz, "you could design a Quality Acting Program for them."
"Or even a Quality Person Program," Denise added. "They should be able to afford the fees, considering what they are paid."
"Ahh," Bazz noted. "If you pay peanuts, you end up with monkeys."
"I hadn't noticed any difference," Irena added. "I'd like to remind some of them that if you make an ass of yourself, people will ride you."
The ladies were especially hard on the current crop of bimbos, making heaps out of a lack of personality and real talent, and requiring an amount of humility.
"If you can fake sincerity," Denise explained, "you've got it made."
"These girls," Irena added, "must have exceptional facial muscles, and dresses designed by structural engineers."
"Uhh?" Bazz interjected. "What do you mean?"
"Well, they are always smiling, even as they talk," Irena explained. "And their boobs remain in the same position, regardless of what they are doing."
"I can't see anything wrong with that," Bazz retorted.
"Come on, Bazz," Denise growled, "look at the facts, go past their boobs and legs."
"My mind is made up," he replied, "don't confuse me with facts."
"Give me the facts," PCH said, "and I will draw my own confusions. Anyway, anatomy is destiny these days, and I think stupidity is acceptable, provided it's nicely packaged."
PCH was accused of going over to the other side, and betraying the cause, and all nibbles were removed from his space at the table.
"He's destined to go far," Denise said, "the sooner the better."
PCH asked who was being referred to, but he was ignored, so I tried to change the conversation by extolling the positive virtues of great people.
"The greatest king," Bazz interjected, "on the biggest throne, with all the jewels and finest wines, still sits on his own arse."
Bazz took advantage of the silence and immobility of the group to grab the last slice of pavlova, and the last glass of my excellent Eileen Hardy Chardonnay.
"I don't know why you are so worried about celebrities, they are not a rival," Bazz lectured, with a healthy dribble of cream and passionfruit about to fall off his chin. "Anyway we seem to value people for what they seem to be."
The undetected dribble made good its escape and landed silently in the Chardonnay. Looking about the group and admiring his ideological success, Bazz took in a good draught of the Chardonnay. We sat back and watched as he did the swirl, the shuffle, the drawback and the swallow.
"Beautiful, WT," Bazz reported, "quite creamy with a hint of passionfruit on the back palate. How about those professional and astute remarks?" He held up the glass to admire its visual appeal. "Shit! What's in it? Stuff me!" And he threw it out. "Why didn't someone say anything?"
"A friend," PCH replied, "has the strength to leave an unpleasant thing unsaid at the most tempting moment."
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