Knowing When to Stop

For the first time since getting my driver’s license, it wasn’t my poor driving that almost caused me to crash. Instead, it was a startling and horrifying radio announcement that diverted my attention and almost lead me to swerve recklessly off the road. “In latest news,” the enunciating voice droned, “rapper Snoop Dogg has announced the expansion of his name and his brand. It seems Snoop doesn’t want to be remembered solely for his music. The legendary rap superstar recently announced that he will be coming out with a new line of clothing, a new line of dog toys and apparel, and most outrageously, a chain of grocery stores that are to be called “Snooper Markets.” That’s right. Snoop Doggy Dogg wants to open up his own chain of supermarkets—excuse me, “Snooper Markets.” While I cannot overlook the hilarity of this business venture, it leads me to question the lauded talent of today. When does enough become enough?

As more and more celebrities emerge, existing celebrities feel the need to widen their scope of self-claimed expertise in order to further their fame, household recognition, and gain an advantage over their rising competition. I’m not just referring to Jennifer Lopez as star of the silver-screen’s Selena or even Britney Spears, who embarrassed herself for the first—but clearly not the last—time in Crossroads in 2002. I’m referring to Paris Hilton, Sarah Jessica Parker, 50 Cent, and the bevy of hot Hollywood stars making moves to expand their talents and images into different industries. It seems as though, to be on top of their game, each star must master multiple trades. It’s not enough anymore to be a consistent Billboard Hot 100 chart-topper; the singer must now also release a clothing line, stick his name on a perfume or cologne, and star in a mediocre movie.

This jack-of-all-trades kind of celebrity would not be bad if the talent and product didn’t suffer with it. But this kind of celebrity is rare. Today, it seems that everyone thinks they can be anything. Heidi Montag,—LC’s adversary on MTV’s addictive show The Hills—anticipates the release of her new single “Touch Me” as soon as her first CD is complete. Doesn’t Heidi also work for a public relations firm on the show? Regardless, the song will probably reach top-20 status. In this same way, countless stars pounce on each possibility to come out on top. Who would have thought that Diddy, Justin Timberlake, and Ashton Kutcher could have their own restaurants? But now that we’ve got our singers as our fashion designers, our actors as our restaurateurs, and our reality TV stars as our musicians, how do we set it straight? Leaping from industry to industry, these celebrities fail to ask the central question: do I actually have the talent to succeed in the business?

In an age when there are as many distractions as there are starlet hopefuls, little motivation can be found to obtain quality in one single category. What ends up happening is that everyone wants to do everything—whether they’re good enough or not. As a result, the all-over-the-placeness of many celebrities leads to worse products across the board; if Jessica Simpson had stuck with singing instead of venturing into acting, cosmetics, and television, she might have ended up with chart-topping singles rather than straight-to-video movies, a line of sub-par body lotions, and a failed marriage.

What if this sort of principle were brought to Columbia? If superstars employed this approach on campus, they would be double majoring in anthropology and cosmetology and minoring in astrophysics. If students here decided to extend themselves like today’s celebrities do into each department, choosing multiple disjoined majors, joining a slew of unrelated clubs, and spreading themselves across unrelated fields, the grades, graduation dates, and general ability to succeed on campus would diminish since no one would be giving full attention to one area. If students, like starlets, stuck to a select few subjects that really interested them rather than aiming to outdo those around them, they would be able to devote quality attention on those areas and flourish in their work.

America’s “anything is possible” mentality that reflects itself in the role models of our time may resonate negatively with those that actually model themselves after these public figures. The result? If today’s children want to be anything like Snoop Dogg, parent’s better be ready to pay for and chauffeur their ambitious tots to singing lessons, acting lessons, fashion design, culinary school, and quadruple majoring—all in between grocery shopping at the Snooper Market and jamming to the tunes of The Sopranos actress-singer Jamie-Lynn Sigler.

The author is a Barnard College first-year.