the doppelgang

My ex-boyfriend has a doppelganger who has already stolen both of our careers.

His name is Joel Stein, and I can't decide if I hate him or, in some way that is probably psychological and fucked-up, want to jump his bones. He's had columns for Time, Entertainment Weekly and Time Out New York, all of which I have read at one point or another with some interest. He really caught my eye, though, when I saw him on a vh1 clip show so generic I can't even remember what it was about. And this is what really earns my ire-- he's a fundit.

I'm relatively certain my friend Justin invented the word "fundit," though it seems too appropos and brilliant not to be in common usage. Fundits are the people who are not Paul Begala, Bill O'Reilly, or anyone else with marginally meaningful commentary; these are the people who explain to you how much Nicole Richie spent on her most recent handbag, and make you feel like you should care. Their primary domain is the Vh1 clip show, where they could be commenting on anything from celebrity mansions to Hurricane Katrina; don't worry, their commentary on the hurricane is probably along the lines of Mardi Gras and jazz rather than America's inherent racial tensions. Fundits in no way pose any danger to making you think too much, and that's why I like them.

The thing about Joel Stein is he kind of manages to do both. He has a column for Time, which gives him at least some measure of respect, but also knows the ins and outs of on-set celebrity hookups. He's some kind of postmodern Renaissance man, and could most definitely kick my ass at Trivial Pursuit.

My ex-boyfriend has a more legitimate claim to hating and/or worshipping Joel Stein, as they look exactly alike and both of them write humor columns for their various publications. As I took a different tack and now edit every word in my publication, I write here instead and pretend people read it. It almost works as well.

What Joel Stein managed that both of us want, however, is becoming famous for essentially being himself. He writes about whatever is going on in his life-- going on hotornot.com, visiting a high school, whatever-- and turns it into part of the public record. Years from now, some college student trapped in a microfilm room will use one of Joel Stein's columns as a piece of research in some ill-planned research paper, and maybe even get an A. For right now, the best I can do is maybe write one of my news editors a recommendation, and she hasn't even asked me yet.

Ideally my career will not take me in a direction that will earn me fundit status; when it comes down to it I'd probably prefer a Pulitzer to a 5-second spot on Vh1. But what if Joel Stein does both? The first-ever Pulitzer-winning fundit? Frank Rich might have already done this, but I haven't seen him on Vh1 yet so the jury is officially still out. I don't know who it says more about-- American culture, my generation, or just myself-- but pseudo-celebrity is almost more valuable than actual accomplishment these days. I'm not sure which, if either, I'll actually manage to obtain, but I know one thing-- if my ex-boyfriend does in fact become the next Joel Stein, as he's well on his way to doing, I am riding those coattails all the way to "I Love the 00's." Or, if I'm lucky, "The Fabulous Life Of..."