Thursday, April 29

Vacuous twats like Madonna and Demi Moore, bored with reconstructing their breasts, have latched onto the Jewish mysticism of the Kabbalah.

The attraction is not to actually engage in the dirty work of becoming a better person. Rather, the superficial, feel-good aspects preached at The Kabbalah Centre plays to their notion of the heavenly, the incorporeal, without making demands. It's kind of like a masturbatory Ouija board.

Another recent convert to a Jewish cause, albeit a less mystical one, is Russell Crowe. While in Toronto, shooting a remake of the the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries tenatively called The Nancy Boys (just kidding, if you don't get it), Crowe has donated an unspecified sum of money to a fire-bombed Jewish day school in Montreal.

Well, good for him. I'm pleased that the Jewish community of Montreal are being given a hand by the Gladiator--one would think that insurance would do. But what of the nature of conspicuous celebrity consumption, this publicist-centric charity?

There are many quieter ways to go about being supportive, and if not for the facile, inconsistent pattern of such acts of generosity, I might give Mr. Master and Commander, he of the puffy shirt, slightly more credit.

When powerful, influential communities are themselves targeted for a hate crime, it makes for a tempting flag to fly.

However, when those less powerful are maligned, stepped on, unhired, or killed, the celebrity wallet in the theatre of the giving usually remains in the pocket ... especially if the victims speak another language.

Many groups that really need money cannot hold fundraisers or put on cocktail parties.

At least Madonna and Demi are consistent, though. Their chequebooks usually remain tucked, very upright, in their immovable, cold cleavage.