celebrity culture
From Instagram to TikTok, our new pop culture demands that stars be both accessible and vulnerable online amid the pandemic.
I don't know if Zsa Zsa Gabor (who died Sunday at age 99) ever met Donald Trump, but if she were a generation younger, they would have made the perfect celebrity couple.
As a gay kid, I lived and breathed movies and television to escape from the teasing and bullying in school. I was drawn to characters like the ones Quinn played. They were sassy and authentic and used sarcasm to outwit the harshest opponents.
WHAT'S HAPPENING
WHAT'S HAPPENING
On June 24, 2009, at a hastily arranged press conference in the rotunda of the State House, Mark Sanford, the governor of South Carolina, and a rising star in the Republican Party, acknowledged that he had not spent the better part of a week "hiking on the Appalachian Trail."
I met Imali years in the dog park where she was tossing Frisbees to Quincey, her sleek Doberman Pinscher. Quincey was one lucky dog!
This is an interview with Dr. Randy Woodley, a Keetoowah Cherokee Indian descendent, serving as Distinguished Associate Professor of Faith and Culture and Director of Intercultural and Indigenous Studies at George Fox Seminary in Portland, Oregon.
This stars-as-shills is a new trend of just the past few years and I think it's no accident it coincides with movie stars losing some luster with cinema audiences.
The depths to which celebrities will go to sustain public interest is uncomfortable, and the extent to which the public are interested is, frankly, sinister.