“When you meet someone better than yourself, turn your thoughts to becoming his equal. When you meet someone not as good as you are, look within and examine your faults.” – Confucius

Waiting for luggage at the airport carousel is typically quite dull. So imagine my surprise when I (quite literally) bumped into South African rugby fullback, Percy Montgomery. Being a less than ardent follower of the sport, I didn’t know whether congratulations or condolences were in order. Besides, the last thing I wanted was to be the umpteenth fan desperate to finally know his brand of shampoo.

Obviously, not many others shared my sentiments. It wasn’t long before the entire terminal was abuzz with whispers and giggles about our golden boys. And it wasn’t long before the entire team was surrounded by supporters keen on getting autographs, cell phone pics, as well as an inside scoop ahead of the upcoming World Cup.

One woman in particular could barely contain her excitement. She frantically rushed over to her husband and son to recall her life-changing brush with the VIPs. And she’d managed to get some pictures too! Oh, what joy! The world was good and her life was complete. If this was her last day on earth, she could rest assured knowing her work was done. She was content, she was whole, and she was finally at peace.

Society’s obsession with celebrities is such a conundrum. One the one hand, I think it’s healthy. Meeting the people we admire from afar can be quite inspiring, especially for youngsters wishing to follow in their footsteps. It’s nice to know they’re not so different from the rest of us mere mortals (barring broader torsos and stratospheric bank balances). And it’s nice to know that we too can achieve what they have, should that be our goal.

Then there’s the sleazier side. Instead of focusing on lifting ourselves up to higher levels, it plots to bring celebrities down to ours. You know I’m talking about the tabloids! It baffles me that we live in a world where pseudo-journalists are allowed to peddle their garbage as newsworthy material; where trashy publications outsell all respectable ones (even with pictures of dead bodies on the front page); and where the likes of Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, and Britney Spears (that trio of all things trite) dominate conversations time and time again.

What concerns me most is that all this fretting over the frivolous is coming at the expense of things that really matter. Why can nobody stop talking about the latest reality show? What ever happened to talking about actual reality? Why do we live in a world where some people (who won’t be named) think Darfur is a rapper or have never even heard of the sub-prime crisis. (Hint: It has nothing to do with grades of steak!) Maybe that’s okay for prepubescent tweens, but definitely not for those of us who should be so over that by now.

My advice to anyone who actually buys this crap would be to stop right now! If that’s something you struggle to do, maybe it’s time you figured out why. While it might feel reassuring to see that even the hotshots have problems (and cellulite), does it make sense for you to spend your hard-earned money funding something that basically exploits your insecurities? No? I didn’t think so. Trying to make yourself feel better by tearing other people down is, like, so not hot.

(Eugene Yiga is the editor of Varsity Blah and his latest book is available free, exclusively from www.varsityblah.com/about)