Fortunately "fans" who idolize icons of this type are pretty dumb. These icons might be framed in pictures on the wall high above the ones of JESUS or ALLAH. After all, the chumps have actually SEEN Michael Jackson and Muhammad Ali. They have NOT seen Jesus or Allah. (If they have, they have also likely blown themselves to pieces in service of their Lords, and in a fight against heathens).
Even people who aren't stupid get caught up in this idolatry. I quote a Jimmy Webb song: "HELL, I'll buy anything that the Colonel will sell. I know that it's wrong, but I can't set him free. Can I tell you a story about ELVIS AND ME?"
From Facebook, here's an ad I saw today promoting Muhammad Ali "LEGACY" fragrance, which naturally comes in a bottle with a simulated autograph on it, sure to be a collectors item.
You'd think there might be some negative comments from Ali fans, but no, any "trolls" daring to point out how wrong this is, were quickly shouted down, and the majority shouted the equivalent of ALLAH AKBAR or JESUS SAVES. Like, "Float like a Butterfly Sting like a Bee" or "He's THE GREATEST."
To these idiots, it would be sacrilege to complain about how a beloved ICON is being misused. We are supposed to WORSHIP our ICONS, right?
It somebody wants to wear Batman underpants, or use Bieber Cologne, or create a shrine in the basement full of Marvel "action figures" and posters and carefully preserved in plastic comic books, let them. Sure. And if the celebrity is DEAD? Well, the celebrity can't complain and say, "Look, I draw the line on some bottle of ick that I never use. I don't like COLOGNE. I don't like the idea of men being offensively effeminate. When you meet people, you shouldn't be smelling them a mile away first."
Look, no less a commercial icon than Gene Simmons once told me he drew the line. He was talking to me once about how he could look out at a stadium full of the KISS ARMY, and it was a big thrill. I said, "Like, if you're singing a ballad, you see a zillion flames in the air from people holding KISS lighters?" He frowned. "Now why would I want that? I'd rather sell something else. Why would I want to sell some dangerous thing where you could burn yourself? And why not be original?"
You can bet that once Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley are gone, there will be KISS lighters. That is, if their estate is as crass as the Muhammad Ali estate.
You'll notice that I spelled his name correctly. It irritates me how often it's Mohammed or Mohammud or whatever. When he changed his name, he should've said, "I'm not Cassius Clay anymore...and when you use my new chosen name, SPELL IT RIGHT!"
The reason this ridiculous cologne annoys me is more than my general hatred of cologne, or the whole idea that anyone should think that any kind of smell is going to interest, arouse or please EVERY person they meet. It's more than my disgust over magazines that reek with "sample" ads. After all, you didn't read me griping when Just a Beeper (er, Justin Bieber) was hawking his cologne which was higher in price than some people make at their job in a week.
No, THIS got to me because Muhammad Ali, more than Presley or Jackson, means something to me. Means something to the world. Ali, despite his faults, was a great man. I don't need to go into all the reasons why. For me, he was The Greatest. I grew up with him and The Beatles. (Funny, he met them in Miami and took some promo photos and then asked, "Who were those faggots?")
I rooted for him. Beat Quarry. Beat Williams. Beat Frazier...well, beat Frazier then next time. GOOD, beat Norton. Well, beat Norton the next time. GOOD. Like Billy Joel, who sang, "Ali don't you go downtown, you've given up another round again..." I worried about him. I forgave him cuffing the back of an opponent's head and taking a breather. Like everyone else, I was amazed when he found a way of beating George Foreman. I ignored the easy fights he sometimes took, going the distance with some pretty ordinary pugs. And yes, there was the sad, sad Holmes fight, and his brave return to come up short against Berbick. He remained The Greatest. He remained glib and amusing, but in those last years, he had a spokesperson to talk for him. This included his remarks on what a true Muslim is, and is not.
But I'll tell you this, too, in total honesty. I never ONCE wondered what he smelled like.
I don't care if this amber jar smells like honey, or butter, or butterflies. I don't care whether you put it on and it has a nice STING to it. To me, it just plain stinks. The goofy collectible junk like a boxing glove with a simulated autograph, or a framed poster, or some oil painting done by a hacky artist who uses garish colors...buy that crap, because it goes into a cabinet or on a wall. It doesn't hang in the air like pollution.
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