Shameless self-importance taking over our culture

So, I'm bored on a Saturday morning. Should be exercising. Instead, I'm channel surfing. And I stumble on the movie "George A. Romero's Diary of the Dead."

I am so not recommending this film. But I do have to give it high marks for Bad Horror Film Providing A Stage For Social Commentary. Specifically, Mr. Romero revisits the recipe of his cult classic "Night of the Living Dead" -- now that's a great horror movie! -- so he can critically investigate this modern world of media, instant and continuous communication and the ready delusion of personal celebrity and self-importance.

So, as zombies lurch around eating everyone, the protagonist narrates: "The more voices there are, the more spin there is. The truth becomes that much harder to find. In the end it's all just noise."

You just don't expect gripping profundity popping out of the middle of a cheesy horror film. And it pushes me over the edge. I can't dodge this truth any longer: Pornography is no longer the most obscene consequence of the Age of Media and Internet; shameless self-importance wins that prize.

Take blogging, for example. Blogging is all the rage. Everyone has a voice. About everything, it turns out. Everyone has something to say. Everyone should be heard. All the time, in fact. And it's worse than "just noise." It's mind-numbing. Exhausting.

I'm a huge Phoenix Suns' basketball fan. Their Web site has a blog button. Assorted Phoenix Suns players write blogs. You're invited to "keep up" with their blogs. I tried. Kept feeling like I was trapped in my Aunt Edna's living room, forced to watch 16 Kodak Carousel racks of slides from their trip to the Holy Land. Kept falling asleep with my eyes open. Which hurts, 'cause your eyes dry out.

OK, I admit I don't have an Aunt Edna, but here's a dirty little secret: Those Phoenix Suns' players? Those brilliant athletes who take my breath away with their physical prowess, grace and sheer basketball talent? Well ... not all of them are uniquely fascinating human beings in their day-to-day personal lives. Their written musings run the gamut from banal to dull to vapid. Checking in and out of hotels and getting on and off airplanes and expressing disappointment in the nickname the fans gave you in a Web site poll and dental floss habits of your teammates and z-z-z-z -- huh?

Wanna know another secret? None of us is a uniquely fascinating human being in our day-to-day personal lives. Funny thing: I don't know when or how this got to be a secret. It was once common knowledge that human beings are rather ordinary.

But the Age of Media changed all that. It's not enough that your heart is filled with joy because you firstborn took his first steps. No. You gotta upload it on YouTube, because it never occurs to you that homo sapiens have been bipedaling for a long, long time. It's a great personal moment, yes; but not a particularly compelling collective moment.

See, if you keep feeding your children, that's what they do. They stand upright and walk. Later, they ask for money. Film that and put it on YouTube, cowboy.

Another radical observation: While it's true that everyone has a voice, it's not true that everyone has something to say. And no one has something significant to say about everything. I'm a total Beatles geek, and John Lennon is my favorite Beatle, but even I know that "All we are saying is give peace a chance" is not a particularly significant thing to say in the face of evil. I'm saying that, just because John was a brilliant songwriter in the best band ever, doesn't automatically qualify him to comment on the Vietnam War.

And that's the point, of course. There are no qualifications, and zero personal shame about not having any.

It's the same feeling I got when, this Christmas, my two older sons received "Guitar Hero" under the Christmas tree. And for hours on end they play the little plastic "guitar" with the colored buttons, training their nimble fingers to mirror the color bar tracing across the PS3 monitor so they can "play" Jimmy Hendrix.

And I watch them. And I think, "Wow. Look at the intensity. The discipline. The time. Look how good they are at this. So ... so why wouldn't they take all that time and commitment and invest it in learning to play an actual guitar?"

It's only a matter of time before someone releases a "Guitar Hero" CD. If it charts, I'll be the guy at the bottom of his martini glass at The Downtown Bar.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling Wellness Center in Las Vegas and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at skalas@reviewjournal.com.