Star Light, Star Bright

It has recently come to my attention that the latest gift giving craze is to give someone their own star. I guess if you can’t be one, you can always buy one. Is there nothing sacred anymore? It seems cute and quaint and like quite a novel idea. Imagine your own little star looking down on you, giving you the occasional twinkle, twinkle winks from the heavens. Not only that, but you can direct all those absurd little wishes you actually think may come true to your very own star.

You don’t need to be an Idols finalist or a Jerry Springer guest for fame. You too can be immortalized for the price of a large pizza with a side of chicken wings and a big bottle of Diet Coke. I at first thought it would be sweet, touching even and I was beginning to get sentimental twangs when I thought of having my own star hanging out up there with other stars with names like X645-4-HJ. It really is the stuff that Jiminy Cricket dreams are made of. Or is it?

As I pondered having my own piece of space I realized that there are so many unanswered questions. If I have a dog and that dog runs out and bites someone, I am responsible. If I incorrectly park my car on a hill in San Francisco and it rolls and hits another car, I am responsible. What if my star accidentally bumps into the Space Shuttle? Am I required to pay for the body work and a new paint job? And does having my own piece of the universe bring with it any rights and privileges? Can I make my own rules? Design my own passport? Print my own money? Become my own star’s next top model? And if my star should plummet to the earth taking out a small yet insignificant town or village currently acting as the backdrop for a reality show, does that make me a terrorist?

So before you go out and buy that star for a loved one or for yourself, you may want to pause for a moment and consider whether you are not simply opening Pandora’s Box.