By Chris Carvo
Over the past few weeks the bedbug has gotten more press than a Hollywood break-up. Yes, the University has beds, and yes, if you don’t clean yourself or your belongings, bugs will grow in your mattress. It’s not any surprise that bugs thrive off your filth. Get over it. Use your Dutch Debits for the washing machines instead of spending it on your grandparent’s Christmas gift, cheapskate!
Now, it’s time for the University’s public to take sides on an important issue. It’s one of the most important decisions since Truman turned Nagasaki into an ashtray. Who do you side with? And I’m not talking about Aniston or Jolie. It’s the bed bug, or the Hofstra bug. Me, I got my “Team Hofstra Bug” t-shirt at Kitson this week.
The new uber-hip cimex-lectularius of the season is the “Hofstra bug.” You heard right. I’m not talking about a smaller and compact version of the Blue Beetle bus for the slow students; I’m talking about the unique organism elite only to the first floors of suites area housing. It’s flat, hairier than a Skid Row video and scatters when you spot it. These caterpillar-like pests hide under your beds or between floor crevices. Now it’s true no one has proven these bugs exist. For all we know, they’re just a small sphere of dead hair and lint blowing across the floor, a blur in our minds like the grainy first-photos of Bigfoot. But what if it isn’t? What if these critters are blood-suckers, an unstoppable hybrid species of bed bugs and crabs, hiding and waiting for you to rest so they can pierce your skin, inject their saliva and feed on blood meal? Then they’ll rest, mate with other Hofstra bugs and lay two to three eggs in your room that can hatch and start the process all over again! Oh, viscous series of unfortunate events! But again, this is all speculation.
It’s this type of rattling that takes place in celebrity media everyday.
Public Relation firms for the stars have recently been accused of paying hefty sums of money to guarantee that paparazzi will be at the right place at the right time. An accident that Paris Hilton’s underwear is showing? Or maybe the company that gave her the free panties paid for that certain faux paux. Oh snap…and flash.
The practice of payola was originally used in the music industry when record companies would pay money to guarantee their record getting heavy play during regular broadcast time. Dick Clark was accused of the scandal early on in his career, and Limp Bizkit did it to get their first record on a KROQ affiliate in Jacksonville, Fl. People in Florida are stupid, but even they knew something was fishy when three different songs from “Three Dolla Bill, Y’All” were played consecutively after one another.
Other syndicates have turned to payola recently in attempts to ensure that their celebrities and products are getting their fair amount of what is called “natural promotion.” Television was the first venue for this practice, movies are beginning to plan for it in pre-production and now magazines rely on it to stay in business. Think it’s a coincidence that US Weekly had exclusive photos of Demi and Ashton’s surprise wedding? Or that People had the inside scoop on the breakdown of Jessica Simpson involving her separation with Nick Lachey? Guess again, Metallica-breath! They paid them to be there. This has angered other B-list celebrities who are without publicists and aren’t tabloid friendly. They feel it is unfair that all the A-list celebrities get all that extra and coveted attention.
Time Inc., a subsidiary of Time Warner, owns and operates over 140 magazine titles in this country, including Entertainment Weekly, People and Sports Illustrated. As with any joint-business venture, one hand must wash the other. A new Warner Brothers movie featuring Jennifer Aniston comes out late this December. Is it any coincidence that GQ voted Aniston the first-ever “Woman of the Year?” It isn’t, in case you were wondering. It’s just a public relation stunt geared at brain washing you to go see another crummy Kevin Costner movie.
It’s time to stop being the sucker to these filthy PR ploys. Turn the E! off, throw out the Entertainment Weekly and maybe clean your bed-rid the bugs from your life.