Let's talk about dubious forms of celebrity. I, like, you, want to be recognized for my talents. Like you, I want to be rewarded handsomely and perhaps slightly publicly for these talents in a way that means I may have an article or two written about me and/or my talents, but not so famous that I might be denigrated in a tabloid or someone would consider assasinating me to impress Jodi Foster. Existing outside all this frivolity, there is the twinkling beacon of all that is untainted by the mundane, separate and superior to the meager trappings of fame and strivers and small-time hustlers with Broadway dreams. Yes, friends. I'm talking about Wikipedia.
Now, I know people (I won't name names, but you know who you are, people) who have entries written on them in Wikipedia. Some because they're famous or "famous" for deeds such as writing books and pop songs, performing in musical acts, or sundry forms of civil disobedience that renders one suitable for notation in the public record. I have been urged by fellow authors to just go and create an entry on myself -- which, evidently anyone can do. But I have decided -- in the dignified fashion for which I am known to my large and sophisticated fan base -- to wait for greatness to be thrust upon me. One day my works will merit an entry in The World's Encylopdedia, and not by my own hand.
I have also been curious about the people who write Wikipedia. I ate up that super-fascinating New Yorker article about the guy who founded it, its gatekeeper and writers, those trillions of experts and near-experts who contribute and police each other and make sure that only the most valued, esteemed, and authoritative sources in the land are used to inform Wikipedia entries.
Now, let me not tarry any longer to the point. I may be all but non-existent if you search for my name in Wikipedia. But, my friends, it seems my contribution to The World's Encylopedia is a far loftier one. I'm not a Wikipedia entry. I'm a Wikipedia source.
Yes, it's true. The Girl's Guide to Absolutely Everything -- my darling book, my sacred issue -- has been consulted on matters large and significant and cited not once but twice in a Wikipedia entry of grave importance. Who needs glowing book reviews, Good Morning, America appearances, or velvet cinch-sacks full of gold coins when they have written the Vulgate from which the Bible was translated, the primary source for the Source? People of the world, I give you...
The truth is, I do get asked all the time about bikini waxes, about the wisdom of the Brazilian, about whether it's "unfeminist" to wax your bikini line. I've interviewed countless women about this, and thanks to "natural women" and pluck-every-last-stray-sters alike, there's a pretty riveting section of the Chapter 10 devoted to the debate (and there is one, sisters, there is!), the different kinds of hair removal available, and how to prepare for the procedure down to the tiniest detail. Not that I need to establish my bona fides. The World's Encyclopedia has done that quite well, thank them very much.
In case you can't read that second citation:
"I think there's something creepy about this phenomenon: Everyone has hair there, it hurts like hell to have it waxed, it requires near-fanatical upkeep, and the more hair we eliminate from genital areas, the more we resemble little girls and not the hirsute women we've (proudly) grown up to be."
And I stand by it, universe. As I am Wikipedia's witness, it hurts like hell. And you can quote me on that in your dissertation.