Creep of the Week - August 30, 1997

Image: Mangled remains of the car

Princess Diana's Paparazzi
"Lights ... Cameras ... Motorcycles"
Back in the good old days, when everyone knew their place in the general scheme of things, celebrities handled obnoxious members of the press with ease. When Frank Sinatra came out of a bar and some wild-eyed photographer's flashbulb got too close, Frank would simply grab the camera, smash it to bits on the ground and then break the guy's face. If the photographer caused any more trouble, Frank would send a couple of his mafia goons over to the man's house where they would fit him with a cement overcoat and put a horse's head in his bed.

Things are a bit more high tech these days.

This week, a pack of crazed photographers (who now call themselves paparazzi - Italian for "greasy like a pepperoni") on motorcycles chased Princess Diana and her new boyfriend through the streets of Paris, trying for the killer photo. They got it. The Mercedes carrying the Princess and crew crashed in a tunnel, killing her, the boyfriend and the driver. Police arrested seven of the Paparazzi On Wheels, although it's unclear what they can or will be charged with.

Who's to blame here? Paparazzi do perform a valuable service when they are unmasking pompous pricks like Frank Gifford or Dick Morris. There's no doubt Diana cultivated and used the press to her advantage during her life in the spotlight. And you know who's been buying those tabloids every week. But high speed chases on motorcycles? Mass frenzy every time one of these celebrities farts in public? Jackals? Buzzards? Vultures?

Princess Diana leaves two young sons who desperately need a mother to keep them from turning out too much like their father's stuffy, inbred side of the family. Prince Charles can only sadly wonder how he let such a hot babe slip through his clumsy Camilla-stained fingers. The rest of us have lost a fairy tale princess, a lady of elegance and class who somehow connected with the poor and downtrodden. People like us.

As we contemplate what might have been, here's something that definitely will be. Next week, you'll be standing in the checkout line at the grocery store and the tabloid section will be filled with publications like The Daily Douchebag hawking photos of "Diana's Cold and Dead Body!" and "Diana and Dodi: The Final Embrace!" and "Diana Alive and In Coma Awaiting Prince Charming's Kiss!". Don't buy them. Instead, douse them with lighter fluid and set them on fire. Explain to the store manager that he's a scumbag and you're not buying his tabloids or anything else in his place again. Tell him Sinatra's goons will be paying a visit. Then drive home with no one in pursuit and be thankful you're just an anonymous lowlife whose picture isn't worth anything to anybody.

Let me know what you think at montgome@servtech.com

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