Ponce De-Leon would be proud...
I'll admit it, there are far more things in this world that I don't understand, than the paltry number I do. I don't understand Nuclear Physics, the New York Stock Exchange, the high cost of three pack briefs, why anyone would want to be on American Idol, why anyone would want to watch American Idol, why the same people that will pay $4.00 for a gallon of water will buck at paying $2.25 for a gallon of gas, and how a Baptist Church in Waynesville, N.C. can be national news for a solid week, when there are things of real importance being shuffled two or three pages back. But the thing that mystifies me the most, the thing that exceeds all others in confusing me, the thing I absolutely cannot wrap my meagre mind around is... Botox.
Let me clarify for a moment exactly why I don't understand Botox. It's not that I don't understand the all too human desire to hold on to one's youth. It's natural, it's even common. Some might even suggest that it's become epidemic simply because we live in an environment where youth is worshipped, and old age is a plague to be avoided, even stamped-out if possible. I can easily follow the chain of thought that brings people of both sexes to the plastic surgeon. In fact there are things about myself that I might be tempted to have lifted, tucked, or removed entirely if both the desire and means were present. However, Botox is an entirely separate issue. I don't understand Botox, because I can't imagine how anyone could ever look at a 'victim' of this procedure and think, 'Gee, I would really like to look like a long dead frozen bass!'.
To me at least, it's just so bloody obvious when folks have had Botox, because they all look like Jack Nicholson as The Joker in Tim Burton's Batman. Elton John's had Botox... Cause he looks like The Joker! Goldie Hawn's Had Botox... You can tell cause she looks like The Joker! Pricilla Presley's had Botox... And, you guessed it, she too looks like The Joker! Lately when I tune in the TV looking for some brainless entertainment, what do I get? Nothing but shows featuring actors who look for all the world like they're somehow distantly related to each other. There they stand, row upon row of faces, that all have those same shiny perfect white teeth, turned-up noses, and paralyzed heads, like some strange herd of deer caught in the headlights. Sort of a wide eyed slackness, with a hint of bemused confusion apparent just behind the waxy features.
Is it possible that somehow an already lemming-like species has degenerated into a mass of quivering anticipation, just waiting for the moment when some mad queen shall lead them to a distant promised land of permanent frozen youth?
Or maybe it's because we desire to persist at all costs. To remain the same simply because it's all we've ever known. To deny the truth of age, so that we can remain comfortably ensconced in our sameness, year after stagnant year. Afraid that somehow a wrinkle, might prove we're human after all.
Well, maybe that's it. But just in case, I understand that you'll know the queen when she comes, for she'll bear an amazing resemblance to The Joker... or is it Joan Rivers?
Fotno
