Along with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, add fame. Andy Warhol first stated, in 1968, that in the future, everyone would have 15 minutes of fame, a cute allusion to the then-novel power of television to broadcast to a general audience. Said tongue-in-cheek, his witticism rings more true every year.

We live in a society where people expect to excel at whatever they do, receive praise for their work and have importance on a national scale.

I do not know enough about how childrearing practices have changed over the decades, but they are certainly indulgent today. Everyone who plays little league sports receives a plaque or trophy, parents constantly remind their children how special they are, and students feel entitled to good grades and teachers fear giving anything else. As kids, we are all exceptional. Of course, when everyone is exceptional, no one is, but no one wants to burst the bubble. Not only do we want to be astronauts, baseball players or the president, we also expect that to happen.

College’s primary purpose, then, is to set us in our place, a job even more important at elite schools like ours, where everyone was a “superstar” in high school, than at most universities. As students compete for a fixed amount of Latin honors, leadership positions and jobs, the real world intrudes on our childhood fantasy. Grade curves do an excellent job of this.

We learn that not all of us are geniuses, amazing athletes, young poet laureates or students able to outwit teachers. Though grade inflation negates this leveling effect to an extent by giving too many people a 3.5, employers and graduate schools finish the job. Not everyone can be at Goldman Sachs, the State Department or Harvard Law.

Unfortunately, college appears to represent the exception to our right to exceptionality. Moreover, two recent phenomena have made us expect, more than ever, to become famous: reality television and YouTube.

Reality television gives everyone the opportunity to live at a national scale and make one’s face known to a national audience. Whereas actors and actresses require some modicum of skill and luck, reality television constantly races to the bottom. As we become inured to increasing levels of outbursts, disgusting feats, and stupidity, we expect higher levels of it. This gives us people forming primitive island societies (“Survivor”), being buried in insects (“Fear Factor”), revealing incriminating truths in front of those who they will hurt (“Moment of Truth”), comparing intelligence to that of a fifth grader (“Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?”) or letting anonymous men rank their bodies (“Battle of the Bods”). Of course, anyone can try out for these shows, and the lucky ones are those deemed craziest, most disgusting, stupidest, or hottest by the producers, which the contestants clearly do not mind. After all, if you are the lowest common denominator, you get the reward: your face on television and a chance at a big cash prize.

Whereas television executives can pretend to maintain some modicum of decency and taste, any base standards still left are irrelevant on YouTube. “Broadcast Yourself,” YouTube’s motto, makes its goal clear: with only an Internet connection, anyone can make an attempt at celebrity. Have a deep voice and can convince people you are a poet? Then you are Tay Zonday, and you get a Dr. Pepper commercial after 14 million people watch your YouTube video. Do you and your friends lip sync to bad songs while dancing? Then 20 million people might watch your video.

In 1,000 years, when historians look back on our civilization, they might recognize August 24, 2007 as America’s nadir. On that day, Miss Teen South Carolina became famous for fulfilling America’s favorite cliché, the dumb blonde. Her incoherent sentence about why Americans cannot find themselves on a map included such eloquent turns of phrase as “U.S. Americans. like, such as, as in . the Iraq and everywhere like such as .” in only 30 seconds. Twenty-two million Americans have viewed a clip of this performance on YouTube. For her embarrassing stupidity, Lauren Upton, as she is known, was interviewed by People Magazine, was a featured guest on “The Today Show”, was invited to the MTV Video Music Awards and now models for Donald Trump. For not knowing English or having a single original thought, she became famous overnight.

This is our society: we seek to be exceptional through our ignorance and baseness. If you are a brilliant physicist, a courageous lawyer or a selfless politician, you rarely merit attention. On the other hand, if you are a ditz or a jock, sexy or stupid, then you just might become famous.

Zachary is a senior in Arts & Sciences and staff columnist. He can be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

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