we’ve normalised the idea that we own celebrities, that they owe us continuous intrusion into their private lives as a condition of fame. there’s always a line, a fuzzy one, currently drawn somewhere near paparazzi (they’re evil vs they’re a necessary evil, how else would we get our pics).
society is built on these lines separating the acceptable from the unacceptable. they change, more quickly than we remember. we don’t smoke in restaurants. we do wear seat belts. but the people who fought those battles, not that long ago, were pariahs.
ellen degeneres (before she became 😡 ellen 😡 for different reasons) was blackballed for coming out. chappell roan is kissing women in her videos. if she wants to try to move the privacy line, and risk being a pariah for it, good for her. she’s either proven right or wrong over time. she’ll either pay or she won’t. but she’s using her capital for something that’s important to her, and that she sees as important to her industry. everyone’s entitled to try.
same as it ever was — this is not to criticize the article, as it’s entertaining, but anyone with a history in san francisco remembers the seagull mafia at the 'stick as well. it seems to have taken them a little while to figure out the move, but theyyy’re heeere.
what i haven’t seen return are the hot dog wrapper twisters, where a section’s worth of paper and foil would assemble into an impromptu tornado in the outfield come the 8th inning.
if giants brass really wanted to be rid of the scavengers, they’d need to change how we package and how easy it is to dispose of it properly. we don’t have a culture of everyone bringing their cups and wrappers upstairs, and if everyone decided to do that one day, there’s nowhere near enough waste receptacle space.