Indicted actresses Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman weaponized their White privilege to receive what they deserve based on the supremacy of their station, and how it dictates the preferred outcome versus the gloomy consequences of not being able to afford the seamlessness of #bestlives.
Surviving the gutsy age of the pompousness of unearned success has evolved into a challenging battle of constantly re-defining your limits as it pertains to a combative climate, that make negotiations on your behalf based on where you fall on the chaotic scale of #dopeness.
The introduction of social media platforms that are built to aid in your creation of bedazzled falsehoods hasn’t helped to inspire the winning qualities that used to highlight the importance of possessing good work ethic, and why it should be the invaluable asset that curates the gratifying road to success.
The terms of engagement have been dangerously revised to sell the dream that’s coated in the trickery of existing for the sheer pleasure of #chilling without the #buzzkills of life; while reaping the benefits of being #blingedout with free products and services, courtesy of brand sponsorships or the vision board of potential deals that could be pending forever.
The rich and famous already have a major advantage when it comes to amassing those sought-after partnerships as is evident with the youngest daughter of embattled actress Lori Loughlin, Olivia Jade.
The paused-influencer has since been dropped by the likes of Sephora and Amazon, and TRESemmé. Apparently the 19-year-old “makeup guru,” who also managed a very active YouTube channel, was a burgeoning entrepreneur with a newly-minted line of Sephora palettes, and a seasoned spokesmodel for an array of fashion companies that paid her the big bucks to co-sign their wares.
It’s a good thing that Olivia Jade has already perfected her hustle skills before the age of 21, considering her freshman days at the University of Southern California have come to an abrupt and disgraceful end. The reluctant college student whose viral video depicting why a “self-made” influencer would consider being holed up in one of the most prestigious campuses in the country a major #bummer — earned an impressive army of ravenous trolls in less than 5 seconds.
Gossip mags continue to share updates on the young woman who had it all until reality hit with vengeance. Her apparently “despondent” mood rightfully matches how any of us would feel if mommy and daddy betrayed us with the rose-colored view of how life is never supposed to work.
There’s also the bitter irony of enjoying the benefits of what technology can provide when you’re young and beautiful with all the money and time to spare. The highs are so damn high, and the lows are just as intense, as your once prime status swiftly shifts to code red. Suddenly the millions of followers who ate up every post to the delight of traffic numbers, are developing the urge to eat you alive.
The biggest revelation about the college scandal heard around the world, is the strong response from varied communities, especially online, where memes that hilariously taunt are mass produced and dropped for ceremonious enjoyment.
It’s expected that brewing ire would circulate over the audacity of how the privileged are unsurprisingly just as trifling as we imagine them to be.
But why is this level of rage not directed to the thuggish momager that ever was — Kris Jenner, who leveraged her second oldest daughter’s sexual exploits as the undefeated currency that is currently holding pop culture hostage with stinging indefiniteness.
That explains why pretty much all the notable organizations that celebrate trendsetters of the present and tomorrow are completely immersed in the kulture of the Kardashian/Jenner women.
From Elle to Harper’s Bazaar to Glamour; every and any resurrected hairstyle, beauty hack or fashion moment is the mandatory ode to a group of women who can only be aptly described as high-tech culture vultures, who brutishly weaponize their unearned influence to the poised discontent of the Black women they are forever indebted to.
The “Kris Jenner Effect” has activated a similar lustfulness for aging celebrity moms, who are generous enough to accept their waning days in the spotlight if it means they can live vicariously through their cute enough daughters, who look decent with heaps of makeup and ultra-thin templates, but certainly don’t evoke the vibes of “supermodel.”
Yet, about 327 days out of the year, Vogue magazine, and all the other suckers on the Kardashian/Jenner payroll, systemically rotate the emotionless and lackluster poses of Kendall, and her equally privileged teamsters who scored the invite, Gigi, Bella, Hailey, Amelia, and Delilah — with shameless betrayal to the functional terms that used to task gifted scouts with the freedom to roam the globe in search of hidden gems.
And of course the blessed teens of supermodels from the era when such a thing truly existed, are often times undeniably worthy of the magazine spreads and runway episodes that provide the sense of nostalgic victory for Cindy Crawford and her mini-me, Kaia, who was born to #slay.
The only annoying aspect of Kaia’s newfound fame, is the fact that her ageless mentor refuses to acknowledge how hitting the lottery as the daughter of “America’s Top Model,” obviously increased the chances of becoming the fashion sensation of the moment, with a plethora of “high-fashion campaigns,” and almost 4 million Instagram followers — all before the age of 18.
But Cindy’s methodical denial about her daughter’s skyrocketing trajectory on the heels of a dynastic climb, is nothing new, in fact it can be allotted to countless professionals who didn’t excel in their chosen fields without the desirability of their last names.
We can’t assume that CNN’s primetime royalty and real life trust fund babies, Anderson Cooper and Chris Cuomo, who both currently enjoy first-rate exposure on their anointed time slots, coincidentally displayed the level of talent that was mind-blowing enough to jump start careers with the best of the best in the world of cable news.
Just like we can’t avoid the temptation to sneer and jeer, right after the announcement of Jenna Bush Hager’s golden platter from NBC executives, who expectedly promoted her to Today’s “entertainment-focused fourth hour” as the “suitable” replacement for departing Kathie Lee Gifford, who co-anchors with staple Hoda Kotb.
The same principle applies to wealthy non-celebs, who are able to get their entitled and not-so-bright graduates into the analyst program of distinguished financial institutions, thanks to yachting adventures and shared country club memberships with loyal CEOs.
We also need to tackle the celebrities who are effortlessly granted entry into Ivy League schools, based on nothing more than their celebrity.
When Maria Sharapova was given an unjustified two-year suspension for doping, she opted to spend the mini-vacation attending Harvard Business School.
Aside from the “eye roll” over the fact that despite being charged with a serious crime, that would’ve undoubtedly rendered Serena Williams incapacitated without the possibility of a revival — Sharapova managed to charm her way into one of the most competitive programs in the world.
There’s also the wonderment that someone who was dumb enough to take a senseless risk that could’ve resulted in the loss of her roster of brand sponsorships — proved smart enough to score that prized acceptance letter.
And what about those questionable honorary doctorate degrees that are bequeathed A-Listers who either never attended college or simply dropped out after failing to adapt to the disciplined atmosphere?
How is it even remotely acceptable for prestigious universities to hand out doctorate degrees in the same manner that Oscars are awarded, when in the case of the former, there was no completed coursework that validates the notable gesture?
As a college graduate, who worked really hard for that English degree at the college that nobody would spend $500,000 for the promise of admittance, I delayed the pursuit of a master’s degree because of the fear of additional loans, and the exhaustion from contemplating the more laborious version of undergrad.
So of course a doctorate degree was never in the running, but perhaps it would’ve been if only I had been a Jennifer Lawrence or Emma Stone replicant, with almost two decades of global box office dominion, and calendars of fashion ad campaigns under my belt.
We could literally go on and on about the way society holds “name recognition” at such high esteem, and why the “influencer” culture pushes young folks to the limit; almost to the point of death-defying acts, that are meant to win the unwavering likes of followers, who ironically never give a damn when the worst does occur.
We are embodying a season that unfairly exploits talents like me, who never had that easy climb to nowhere, due to the lack of influential connections, and the obstinate stance against robotic manipulations, that give the edge to those who surrender to the regimen of hawking what doesn’t exist, in the hopes that hardly working with catalogue of selfies, and expensive hashtags will compensate for wasted daydreaming.
As the media comfortably settles on the habitual hiring practices that enlists the expertise of non-experts ,who don’t need journalistic prowess to help CNN navigate the vibrant landscape of the 2020 elections, we have to stop being blown away by the confirmation that illustrious industries and institutions are indeed more than willing to grant unearned goodies to those who can afford the systemized coddling.
We can also dispense with the lie that states how “money isn’t everything,” because you honestly can’t survive this shit storm without bundles of it.