So… how famous am I, really? I don’t know.
Let’s take one of my girlfriends as an example. Selena Gomez.
When I met her, I was, obviously, the more famous of the two. I had to actively search the internet to find pictures of her, lol. I mean, she had no fansites, no social media prescense that I remember, and… nothing, really. She was, blunty, two shades away from being a nobody.
I started dating her and *poof* she became famous, and then, more famous- she got fansites, for example, and then- more famous, with real hit songs and everything, and then… and so on, and so on, until she became the most popular person on instagram, at one time.
So… Selena. Is she more famous than me now? Quite possibly, I would think. There are few in our nation’s cities who have not heard of her. Very few.
But… ah… I made her, did I not? I created her fame. Anyone who really knows of her career knows about me, too, I would think. I mean, how could they not?
Hmmn, I don’t know. It’s possible, though. Guys who don’t look behind the curtain, for example. Parents who just know her because their kids do.
Hmmn. But what if… what if… her parents know me as the guy who created the alt-right? Or as the telepath? I don’t know. I could well be more famous than her. It is very possible.
To be honest, I do not think there are many people out here in Gurnee, Illinois that would instantly recognize her if she were just walking down the street, I wouldn’t think. I mean, they wouldn’t expect her to be there, but still. They do know me, clearly. And I would expect they would know me A LOT more in L.A. than they do here. Like, orders of magnitude more.
Huh. Woah.
…
Wow.