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Jewish World Review March 7, 2005 / 26 Adar I, 5765

Neil Steinberg

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Rev. doesn't have a prayer; Huge star sighted; World-spanning ego


http://www.NewsAndOpinion.com | The Rev. Jesse Jackson says that Michael Jackson can't get a fair trial because there are no blacks on the jury.

The smart thing, usually, is to ignore the reverend's pronouncements — it's been years since he said anything significant. Instead, he squanders his dwindling political capital on a series of doomed, ill-chosen quests like this one. .

But a fallacy underlies Jackson's premise that should not go without rebuttal. Although an all-white jury was bad news in Mississippi in 1954, we have moved beyond that. It's offensive to suggest otherwise. The "any successful black man gets torn down by whitey" attitude isn't reality, it's a fever dream of overheated racial sensitivity. We adore all celebrities, black, white or green. Michael Jackson's peers are his rich neighbors, not any random group of black people. (As much as a freak show like Michael Jackson can be said to have peers —

I'd wager there aren't a dozen people on Planet Earth who are his equals, thank G-d.) .

If the Rev. Jackson were less out of touch, he'd realize that the other Jackson, with his bleached skin and Barbie doll nose, is not exactly a poster boy for black pride. People of all races equally cringe away from this sad and tawdry spectacle.



Huge star sighted

I could never write one of those bold-faced names columns. My instincts are wrong. I was once at a party when John F. Kennedy Jr. walked in. My reaction was to wheel around and rush in the opposite direction, away from the crush of people rushing toward him. I would never have met the late hunk at all had not a female acquaintance grabbed my arm, spun me around and prevailed upon my gallantry to introduce her.

Or last week; I found myself guzzling wine with a pal at Link, a lower East Side bar. In walks Matt Damon and his mother. The conversation went like this.

Me: "Refresh my memory here. What, exactly, has Matt Damon done?"

Pal: "He's a huge movie star."

Me: "I know. But what has he been in?"

Pal: "He's Ben Affleck's buddy."

Me: "Yes, yes. Is that a job description? Name a movie." We stood stricken, silent, looking at each other, then appealed to a bystander, who offered up "The Bourne Identity." Missed it. Anything else? "Good Will Hunting." Missed it.

We nibbled hors d'oeuvres and cast glances over at Damon, a slight young man in a stocking cap. The crowd mostly left him alone - perhaps they felt a similar lack of enthusiasm though, to be honest, nonchalance didn't stop me from bragging that I went to a party with Matt Damon. People seemed suitably impressed.


World-spanning ego

I'm torn when it comes to Steve Fossett, the millionaire gadfly constantly striving to get his mug in the papers and his name in the record books. On one hand, I wanted him to fail, since I dislike the smug, false importance of his egomaniacal endeavors. The pretense that he is doing something meaningful, and isn't just a rich man on a lark dragging the media by the nose.

But one botched effort begets the next. He tried six times until his balloon stunt worked. So I pulled for him to succeed so that maybe he'll go away for a while.


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JWR contributor Neil Steinberg is a columnist for the New York Daily News. His latest book is "Hatless Jack: The President, the Fedora, and the History of American Style". (Click HERE to purchase. Sales help fund JWR.) Comment by clicking here.

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