Related to the prior post
I wrote the previous entry somewhat in sadness and somewhat in jest. But, like so many seemingly off-hand things, it got the mind working.
We,human beings, hate heroes.
It's that simple.
Oh, sure, we can kid ourselves with being amazed by some athlete's display of skill in his or her chosen sport. But, soon as it's over and done with, we start wondering, were they doped with steroids? How were they cheating? Oh, sure, he's great in the game but, if you knew him, you'd know just what a royal @$$hole he is.
Barry Bonds? Brand that ball with an asterisk.
Marion Jones? Erase her achievements from 2000 on.
Lance Armstrong? Oh, he had to have been doped/overoxygenated blood/something. If nothing else, look what a louse he was to Sheryl Crow...
We aren't any easier on our fictional heroes, either.
A simple google image search with the safe image filter turned off will probably show you Superman, Wonder Woman, Spider-man, Batman or any other one you'd care to look for involved in extremely graphic exploits their respective copyright holders don't want you seeing.
Oh, yes, we hate our heroes. We want to drag them back down to at least our level if not drive them so far down into the dirt and muck we can use their backs as sidewalks.
Not that the latest generations of celebrities don't give us ample opportunity.
Michael Vick?
Britney Spears?
Paris Hilton?
After all, some are celebrities simply because of their bad behavior now.
This brings me back, full circle, to Evel Knievel.
I'm a child of the seventies and I can remember watching Wide World of Sports as they'd show his latest jump attempt.
Flamboyant in the same way Elvis was, he'd come out in his jumpsuit and cape, riding his mostly unmodified Harley-Davidsons or Triumphs, he'd get the crowd going as he'd show off before a row of busses or whatever the obstacle dujour would be.
Then, finally, he'd jump.
Often as not, he'd crash on the landing.
We loved to see him crash even more than we loved seeing him land clean.
Man isn't meant to fly, after all. Even if that flight is for a couple seconds on the back of a motorcycle.
And man, when he goes tumbling down the plywood and getting run over by that same motorcycle, isn't supposed to get back up again.
Stubborn, contrary cuss that he was, Evel loved proving us wrong.
He'll never clear that....and he would.
He'll never walk again...and he would.
He'll never jump again...and, with the medical and pharmacopial equivalent of duct tape, bubblegum and bailing wire, he would.
As a hero, Evel was hardly a role-model you'd want your kids to emulate. By and large, he was pretty much a louse. But he realized and accepted that simple, brutal truth.
We hate heroes.
Well, Robert Craig Knievel Junior, Evel, here's your last chance to prove us wrong about you once again.
You've just made your last jump...
...don't land.
We,human beings, hate heroes.
It's that simple.
Oh, sure, we can kid ourselves with being amazed by some athlete's display of skill in his or her chosen sport. But, soon as it's over and done with, we start wondering, were they doped with steroids? How were they cheating? Oh, sure, he's great in the game but, if you knew him, you'd know just what a royal @$$hole he is.
Barry Bonds? Brand that ball with an asterisk.
Marion Jones? Erase her achievements from 2000 on.
Lance Armstrong? Oh, he had to have been doped/overoxygenated blood/something. If nothing else, look what a louse he was to Sheryl Crow...
We aren't any easier on our fictional heroes, either.
A simple google image search with the safe image filter turned off will probably show you Superman, Wonder Woman, Spider-man, Batman or any other one you'd care to look for involved in extremely graphic exploits their respective copyright holders don't want you seeing.
Oh, yes, we hate our heroes. We want to drag them back down to at least our level if not drive them so far down into the dirt and muck we can use their backs as sidewalks.
Not that the latest generations of celebrities don't give us ample opportunity.
Michael Vick?
Britney Spears?
Paris Hilton?
After all, some are celebrities simply because of their bad behavior now.
This brings me back, full circle, to Evel Knievel.
I'm a child of the seventies and I can remember watching Wide World of Sports as they'd show his latest jump attempt.
Flamboyant in the same way Elvis was, he'd come out in his jumpsuit and cape, riding his mostly unmodified Harley-Davidsons or Triumphs, he'd get the crowd going as he'd show off before a row of busses or whatever the obstacle dujour would be.
Then, finally, he'd jump.
Often as not, he'd crash on the landing.
We loved to see him crash even more than we loved seeing him land clean.
Man isn't meant to fly, after all. Even if that flight is for a couple seconds on the back of a motorcycle.
And man, when he goes tumbling down the plywood and getting run over by that same motorcycle, isn't supposed to get back up again.
Stubborn, contrary cuss that he was, Evel loved proving us wrong.
He'll never clear that....and he would.
He'll never walk again...and he would.
He'll never jump again...and, with the medical and pharmacopial equivalent of duct tape, bubblegum and bailing wire, he would.
As a hero, Evel was hardly a role-model you'd want your kids to emulate. By and large, he was pretty much a louse. But he realized and accepted that simple, brutal truth.
We hate heroes.
Well, Robert Craig Knievel Junior, Evel, here's your last chance to prove us wrong about you once again.
You've just made your last jump...
...don't land.