Recently, the Beckhams, Victoria (aka Posh) and David, descended upon Los Angeles like--they must have thought--winged angels from on high, here to enlighten the American masses in the ways of soccer and pop music. "How grateful they'll be," Posh no doubt whispered to her reflection, "when I show them my spectacular pout." And it is true, she can pout. In fact, I don't think I've seen a lip droop like that since the day my father heard Knight Rider was cancelled. But it takes more than a pretty pout to win American audiences, as Calista Flockhart could tell you. In a country where the media ogles over the likes of Paris and Britney (I would mention the president, but that dead horse has been beaten to glue), it is difficult being the new celeb on the block. But there is, in my opinion, just one reason Posh and Becks will fail to woo the American media: they are just not dumb enough.
The Victoria Beckham Marketing Machine counted on turning their first year in America into a reality TV / sitcom-esque / Osbournes-tryhard. She had everything in order: new boobs, new hair, and hubby was out in LA staring in commercials depicting him as prince charming. Perfect. Everything was in place. Or was it?
When the newspapers figured out what David Beckham was saying, and then what he meant by 'football,' they became confused. And if you've never seen a confused journalist, it is very much like watching a child with ADHD or a chimpanzee in Trig class. So off they wandered, chatting to one another about where to get the best anal bleaching, leaving poor Becks all dressed up with no place to go.
And when daytime interviewers discovered that not only did Posh know where England was, but she could actually point to it on a map (and unlike Paris, both Posh AND Becks know who Tony Blair is), they lost interest. Mostly, they were nervous of being upstaged on national television. Cardinal rule of daytime TV: never interview anyone smarter than you are. It's a philosophy that has led Oprah to be one of the most powerful women in America.
Yet the most damning moment came when Posh let slip that she knew some French. Not much, mind you, but enough to order a baguette. Let me tell you, the silence was painful. French? Not in America, young lady! Sure they helped us defeat the British during a war that pretty much started the country; and sure they designed and built the Statue of Liberty; and sure they owned half of continental America until Napoleon decided he really rather disliked Russia; and sure French was the only other language on US passports until recently (when we added Spanish); but those nasty Frenchies said mean to us . . . once . . . for something . . . so we don't talk to them anymore. The TVs and pop papers exclaimed in unison: "Shame on you, Mrs. Posh. Shame. How dare you make us feel uneducated!" Fox news cried, "Why can't you be more like Paris or Lindsay? They fall down." USA Today cried louder, "Why can't you just fall down and make us laugh?"
So the networks turned what was going to be a season of pouty soccer goodness into a 1-hour plug. But hey, popsugar.com still loves them!
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