“I Mean…What?!?” – Abe Gurko

Ahhh, the journey of one person’s struggle to become a celebrity. How many of these situations have we watched unfold in front of our eyes. Lost count? I sure have. But I’d like to stop and discuss a few of these people who have hit the airwaves with a thunderous boom and share my perspective. Today’s article in The New York Times Style section about Jesus Luz, Madonna’s boyfriend, is a searing, riveting tale of how one poor, little boy in Brazil made his way to the top of the New York City heap, complete with publicist. Grab your hankies. It is not too dissimilar from Monica Lewinsky’s tale of fame and fortune-ish. And there’s surely a through-line between their stories and Levi Johnston’s…that through line being poontang. Yes, the glorious act of sex with the right person.  Leave it up to me (and most of the world) to spend our lives ‘doing it’ with the wrong people. Sex that gets you nowhere except perhaps a visit to the Heartbreak Hotel, the clinic for antibiotics or both. But enough about us, let’s get back to them.

Poontang is what thrust (operative word) these folks in the limelight proving that premeditated sex is the way to true happiness…in the celebrity sense. Come on, it did wonders for Paris Hilton. Sure, her socialite status gave her a leg up (literally), but it was that blow job that put her career over the top. Throw in Donna Rice and Charro (you could brech at the thought of bedding down with Xavier Cougat) into the mix and you have notoriety without much effort. Which is different than the new found notoriety of that Washington couple Michaele and Tareq Salahi, who schnorred themselves into the State Dinner at the White House earlier this week and are now seeking bow-quoo bucks to tell their story. For those two it’s a quick fry in the pan and out you go from the spotlight. And even if they do end up on The Real Housewives of Washington DC, who the hell wants to be one of those people anyway? And (B) they will be famous for what? Crashing a party? That makes having an illicit affair seem honorable. Back to poontang. You see, with poontang, you create a mystique about yourself that you must be great in the sack, or else why the hell are we talking about you in the first place? Hence, continued media support and endless coverage, crowning you with the glorious title of celebrity or, rather, wanna-be celebrity.

At press time: Jesus was last spotted (as per Page Six) “sipping red wine while spinning at nightclub Dusk at Caesars Atlantic City.” Boy is his publicist working overtime. Like on the Thanksgiving holiday even. Now that’ commitment.