Replacing Christ with the Kardashians
On The phenomenon of celebrity worship
Hi, I’m Max Murphy! A failed creative turned existential imbecile. These days, I write The Murphy Memos where we explore the absurdity of existence with crappy jokes.
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The entire history of humanity is basically lumped into one of two eras. There’s before Christ, and after the death of Christ (fuck that middle section during his life).
But if you ask me, we need a new era: after the death of God.
Christianity was the default worldview for centuries, but as thinking people realized Christian dogma was as useful as horseshit, there was a mass exodus from the church.
As Nietzsche famously declared, “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?” This marked the end of traditional values and belief structures as they crumbled to the ground like shanty town shacks being toppled by tanks.
There’s been a spiritual void ever since.
Instead of taking Nietzsche’s advice and overcoming ourselves, we decided to comfort ourselves by worshipping celebrities.
Kim Kardashian is my God
Laugh all you want, but the parallels between religious devotion and celebrity worship are striking. They both provide:
Entertaining stories: instead of Biblical stories or Greek myths, we have celebrity drama, and the commodification of that drama (especially as the line between fiction and reality blurs with reality TV, live-streaming, biopics, etc.).
Community & belonging: instead of belonging to the church, you belong to a fandom, the fellowship of Kardashian worship.
Role models: celebrities represent the ideal image of human achievement, the thing everyone should want to be. A normal person is judged by how alike they are to this God. Think Plato’s perfect forms, or Jungian archetypes. That’s what celebrities are in a psycho-spiritual sense.
If celebrities are our Gods, then Instagram is the digital alter.
Instagram is nothing short of a digital cult, where we prostrate ourselves at the altar of celebrity mimicry. Take the Brazilian butt lift craze or the Kylie Jenner lip challenge as prime examples. We’re willing to undergo physical harm for a taste of divinity, a chance to inch closer to the likeness of Kim or Kylie. Nerve damage? A small price in homage of those blessed few.
We know we’ll never be them, but the chance to have our Instagram selfies resemble them a little more is an allure that few can deny. If it were suddenly feasible to cosmetically alter everything about your appearance, we’d witness a sea of Kim K clones flood the streets.
The Damage of Deification
This brings us to the crux of the matter: the destructive nature of this worship, both for the worshippers and the worshipped.
Traditional mythological figures, unlike celebrities, were never intended to be emulated. They were exaggerated ideals, not blueprints for living. Even the best Christians fall short of Christ himself. It’s supposed to be that way!
In striving to mirror our modern deities, we’re setting ourselves up for failure. No one can ever match up to these fantastical narratives, not even the celebrities themselves.
The pedestal we place celebrities on is a prison.
Despite their demigod status, they are, at their core, human. The demands for perfection are relentless, stripping them of privacy and peace. The constant scrutiny and pressure to maintain an impeccable facade are not signs of a blessed life but a cursed existence.
How the hell are you supposed to maintain a divine image when you’re barely human?
Picture the Greek myths reimagined as a reality TV show, 'The Real Gods of Olympus.' Viewers tune in weekly for episodes like 'Sisyphus Takes a Break' and 'Aphrodite Tackles a Bad Hair Day.' Suddenly, Zeus negotiating with Poseidon over who forgot to turn off the thunder machine becomes prime-time entertainment.
Imagine how much less compelling the Greek myths would be?
This conflation of myth and reality has spawned a culture that’s both hollow and harmful.
Followers chase illusions, while celebrities are doomed to a Sisyphean struggle against their own humanity.
Now, this is normally the part where I end on the typical Max Murphy negative note about how we’re all fucked and we’re all gunna die - but for once, there might a solution to life’s miserable mirage of meaninglessness.
Rethinking Divinity
Let’s stop chasing these distant stars and start worshipping someone a bit more… animated.
That’s right, motherfucker.
It’s time to bow down to the greatness of Max Murphy, The God!
Why settle for the unattainable when we’ve got a perfectly good deity in the form of a 2D legend? Max Murphy isn’t just a role model. He’s a lifestyle—a beacon of sarcasm in a sea of sincerity, offering profound wisdom wrapped in a sushi roll from 7-Eleven.
Let’s fill the void left by old deities with something infinitely more entertaining: a shared admiration for the divine comedy that is Max Murphy.
With Max as your spiritual guide, we’re destined not just to change the world, but to save it from itself.
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