January 15, 2007

Pity the Children

Countless articles and websites have been devoted to the magnificent-ness and the oddity of the TomKat relationship, but very few take into account the strange situation the Cruise children live in. Feel sorry for Queen Katie, if you like, for being an allegedly legal partner to the biggest whackjob in Hollywood, although I feel as a grown woman she’s made her bed and now has to lie in it, and she’s being compensated very, very well for partnering up with Tiny Pants. (And she could at least get a decent haircut and clothes out of the deal). Feel sorry for Master Tiny Pants, again, if you like, for his diminutive stature, for his obvious Napoleonic complex and for allowing the Church of Scientology to hijack his brain and his bank account. Sure, they can be considered victims. Victims of fashion, victims of bloat, victims of their own self-imploding media-fest, while they famewhore all over Los Angeles. My pity lies with Isabella, Connor and Suri. It’s hard enough to get through adolescence when you have perfectly normal, boring parents that you want to ignore and forget.
Imagine if The King of Crazy were your father. “Uh, yeah, my dad is Tom Cruise and yeah, he does think that there is an alien living inside me.” If that’s not guaranteed to get your ass kicked on the playground, I don’t know what is. Imagine trying to play soccer or football, surrounded by your teammates and friends, while your tubby father is playing tonsil hockey with your future and future ex-stepmother, with the photographers taking pictures. Taking pictures of your father acting like a hormonally charged teenage boy, and pictures of you, in all your adolescent and pre-adolescent gangliness, just trying to play your position. Imagine having those same photographers following you everywhere. Being chauffeured around, not by your dad, but by the driver. In a blacked out SUV, resembling a hearse.
Further, both Connor and Bella are home schooled. By Tiny Pants’ sister. In ways of Scientology. This is abuse in and of itself. Are these kids being properly socialized? And will they be able to attend a college, if they so choose? Are they learning history, multiplication, division, great works of literature? Or are they learning about thetans and wogs and how using deadly force is acceptable if the enemy comes?
And let’s not forget Suri. What is she to think when she grows up and realizes that her own parents had her pictures airbrushed for a magazine? Or when she can count the number of days she’s been outside and in the fresh air on both hands? She too is destined for a life submerged in Scientology and all the disadvantages that entails. At least in Connor’s and Bella’s case, they do have Nicole Kidman at the ready with Plan B (hopefully). Poor Suri has a manic, hyperactive so-called adrenaline junkie for a father and a morose, mute and utterly vapid incubator for a mother, who will quickly leave the scene as soon as her contract expires. The only hope she has is that Queen Katie’s parents swoop in to take her, or Master Tiny Pants grows some balls and leaves Scientology. She is destined for the best in material things but will be sorely lacking in what’s really important.

No comments: