If I wasn't a celebrity
Would you be so nice to me
If I didn't have cheese like every day
Would you still wanna be with me
— NSYNC
As someone who has cheese, like, every day, I am proud to say that I fit NSYNC’s definition of a celebrity, and can opine on fame from my lived experience. It’s Jason Katzenstein, by the way. But you knew that.
Being famous isn’t all glitz and glamour — it’s also being constantly recognized on the streets of New York. “Hey,” says a stranger, “You’re that cartoonist!” And I give a polite nod as the stranger continues, “Ellis Rosen, I love your work.” This is when I make it clear to the stranger that I think The Purge is a real thing and I intend to commit any crime I’d like today. The stranger thinks I’m Ellis, so they never suspect that it is in fact Jason Katzenstein eating the display wedding cakes and refusing to pay. It’s the perfect crime.
Yes, reader, there is cheese wedding cake. That’s what makes me a celebrity. Keep up.
But being famous isn’t only glitz, glamour and getting to do The Purge in real life. It’s also giving back. And so I’ve asked the most famous people on earth, this group of cartoonists, to share their work and insights for you, the grateful riff raff. The normies. The non-famous. The lactose intolerant.
That’s right, we’re giving you some palace intrigue. You may discover that in some ways, behind all the diamonds and minolo blahniks and {tk third thing that is glamorous definitely look something up Jason don’t keep this in the final draft} we’re just like you.
Except JK we’re not.
The second time I had an encounter with Kevin Bacon was when he shared this cartoon on twitter. The first time is a longer story. Basically what happened was that I used to be a reverend in this small town, and BOY did I hate dancing. In fact I managed to get dancing outlawed there for a bit. But then Kevin Bacon rolled in and changed everything and now the whole town loves dancing. Ugh. Celebrities, am I right?
Anyway, they eventually made a movie about this whole affair. Look it up, it’s called “Tremors.”
When Michelangelo was thirty, he was summoned to the Vatican to paint the Sistine Chapel. Supposedly, he left after the Pope did not show him enough respect.
In short, he was a celebrity. Or as they say in Italian, celebrità.
When I was thirty, one of my fifth grade students told me I had “a brain like a child’s.”
Most good Americans are willing to do anything to become a celebrity, even if it means blowing up a building or two and doing life in prison. If you’re prepared to completely degrade yourself but are too dumb to manufacture IEDs out of ordinary household products, or too smart to become a cartoonist, you can always marry a now-famous person who blew up a building or two and is doing life in prison. As it states clearly in the U.S. Constitution, knowing a famous person is every bit as good as being famous yourself.
When I walk down the street carrying my fluffy baby dog in a backpack and the people I pass DON’T clamour over her as if she is extremely famous, I become offended. Every dog deserves to feel famous at all times for all they accomplish in their perfect lives. This is the opposite reality of the lowly cartoonist, who has not been recognized even once by the woman she sees every week at the deli carrying a worn New Yorker tote bag.
Whenever I see her I’m starstruck. Loved her in Planet of the Apes.
When I was a kid, I decided I would become rich and famous (as per course for Yankees center fielders). Then I got a little older, and graciously decided I’d rather be rich than famous. Then I moved to New York City, and decided I’d just like to own a nice apartment building someday. These days, I’ve put the celebrity, riches, and real estate dreams on hold, and am just thrilled when my deodorant is buy one get one free.
When this cartoon came out with Journal of Alta last spring, just as the pandemic locked us well away from celebrity parties, I was invited to speak on an Italian podcast called Moby Dick On Air, a livestream via an instagram page with 811 followers. I read from Moby Dick and spoke about this cartoon, with my sound echoing unprofessionally, because none of us were video pros way back in April 2020. Now I’m a video pro and I’m famous with Moby Dick fans in Italy. But I’m still chasing my white whale: being famous with Moby Dick fans in France.