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From Hunger Illusionist David Blaine just finished up a month and a half of starvation in a Plexiglas box suspended from a crane in the middle of London. We’re not sure if anyone was passing him food in there, but we are sure someone was passing him drugs. This was perhaps the most ridiculous thing since the “Bubble Boy” episode on Seinfeld. Other people perform stunts to raise money for diabetes, cancer, or lupus. David Blaine raised money for David Blaine. Some folks create a spectacle to raise AIDS awareness. David Blaine raised David Blaine awareness. Blaine was outdone by eight-year-olds in MS walkathons. Even Jack Kevorkian had a cause and a little thing called modesty. I’d like to thank personally everyone in London who saw fit to dangle a hamburger in front of David Blaine. I hope they had extra cheese. But give Blaine this: Getting Paul McCartney riled up is no mean feat. Sir Paul hadn’t been in a bad mood since the Let It Be sessions. Reports say those who were in the vicinity when Blaine was finally removed have lost their own appetites. The only plastic compartment on the planet that smells worse is the back of a New York cab. During his time in the box, Blaine’s weight dropped from 210 pounds to 156. If only his ego could shrink like that. Ironically, after 44 consecutive Yom Kippurs, Blaine still owes us all an apology. You see, Dave, there are folks out there who can’t scrape together lunch for real. From Dachau to Cambodia to Somalia to Camden, most of us have already witnessed more than enough starvation in our lifetime. Yes, maybe you’ve set some sort of world’s record. But the world has also set a record for not giving a damn. If we want famine, we’ll watch Ally McBeal reruns. Suddenly, Steve Fossett—the millionaire who circled the globe in a luxury balloon—looks sober and practical. Seems Blaine was trying to top not only other wackos with too much time on their hands, but himself as well. Back in 2000, Blaine lived inside a block of ice for three days only to be put to shame by Ted Williams. Dave, your best trick to date was bedding Fiona Apple. Hey, you really want to impress us, Mr. Blaine? Next time, try the box deal in Washington Heights. Hole up with Siegfried and Roy’s tiger. When you’re done, go over Niagara Falls. Without the box. And when you’re done with that, try rooting for the Red Sox in the Yankees bullpen. The transition back to being a full-sized weirdo promises to be a challenge. Though medical authorities say Blaine can’t have sex with his supermodel girlfriend for the next few weeks, the couple can, however, go clothes shopping together now that he’s a size two. Meanwhile, we punctual eaters have to be grateful Blaine has chosen not to recover in public. By all accounts, that is a painful, messy process. People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw up. David Blaine returns to a civilization very different from the one he left 44 days earlier. The Cubs lost. Six US soldiers dead per week in Iraq. No WMDs. Britney’s showing cleavage and kissing women. Ken Lay is a free man. Celebrities on steroids are winning major gubernatorial races. Okay, things are pretty much as you left them, Dave. Except for one thing. The public’s opinion of David Blaine has gone from mild amusement to utter revulsion. From now on, you’ll be viewed largely as a self-absorbed psycho. Not even Houdini can get you out of that one. In the end, the whole scheme was rather see-through. Reportedly, Blaine has already sold the television rights for $8 million. Can’t wait for that slow-motion replay. What’s next, Slim-Fast? Truth is, Blaine is a yo-yo on a yo-yo diet. Sure he’s got more self-discipline than most of us. So does Charles Manson. The question is what you do with it. Fortunately, there is an answer. These days, the only place left to go for a lunatic with name recognition is politics. For God’s sake, take a stand on something: the war, the economy, bulimia. Come on, Dave—it’s not too late to get into the Iowa caucus. Your competition is starved for ideas. Click here to rant back. |