So, I'll get to my 30 Days of Blog post later. Right now, I want to talk about why fans sometimes go batshit.
First I need a better word for the sort of rabid fan who
buys a singer's private address, turns up at their house and takes stalker pictures until he comes out and has a pic taken with her and
then considered accusing him of rape if the cops were called, not to get out of trouble but to sit in the police car with him. (Which I doubt is how it goes, somehow - why would you
want to sit in a police car next to the person who tried to sexually assault you anyway? I'd want minimum safe distance myself. If I couldn't have the next
state, the next car would do.) The sort of fan who
presents box o' sex toys to basically a total stranger in public. I can't use 'fanboy' for this - to me, 'fanboy' is kind of a cute term. It's a step beyond someone who won't go out at [X time] on [X day of the week] because [X programme] is on, and to me means someone who publicly squees over things or people. Internet fan, y'know? Maybe they get a bit vituperative and maybe they push their ship a bit too much, but on the whole, they're harmless.
But ... it's a progression, isn't it? You know that famous image of human evolution that goes from the crouching ape to the standing man (and then, in the geek version, back to crouching as some guy sits hunched in front of his computer)? It's kind of like that. Some people - and age isn't even necessarily a factor, because there are as many batshit Twimoms as there are teenybopper Twihards, and then there's Snapefen, though batshit FanMoms seem to outnumber sensible teen fans these days - just stop somewhere between "Oops, sorry to dash out so quickly, but Torchwood's on in ten minutes and I want to get home for it. *finish drink; voom*" and "Yay Torchwood! I just read this awesome fic and Jack/Ianto OTP and how do you think they'll manage a fourth season after CoE and I don't know what I think about an American remake and WTF is Russell Davies
doing?" Those are fine. Those maintain the fourth wall. Those you don't really want or need to back away from so fast or so far. That's speculation, interest, preference sharing.
The line between Fanboy and Creeper can really be drawn beyond the point when you're getting into the real people. Don't get me wrong; one can fangirl real people. I can admire David Tennant's acting chops when he shows 'em off in both Doctor Who and Hamlet. I can ask Colin Ferguson if he happened to have gone to my old school in Montreal, since he grew up in my home city for awhile, because I was curious and it was a good icebreaker for an interview. I can state for the record that I think that Julian Sands is one sexy specimen (he looked pretty good in the film
Warlock but I really found him droolworthy in the miniseries
Rose Red). I can talk with Bryan Talbot about the 'blast from the past' book I'm asking him to sign and talk a little about his early projects. The closest I ever came to being a stalker was to turn up at a Stephen King signing without realising one needed to have purchased a ticket weeks in advance, get close enough to get an in-person look at the author who inspired me to try writing in the first place, and then go away again so as not to disturb anybody. I was heartbroken that I couldn't get anything signed because of said ticket issue but damnit, I wasn't going to be a problem for anyone. I turned up, I saw him, I wished I had a camera, I left. I don't think that's too terrible.
RPF - Real Person Fanfic. That's where the line starts getting towards Creeper. To write about a character - a not-real person - made up by someone other than yourself - is fine, beyond the issue of ownership where writers and even actors get abused because being able to write that character makes people feel they're open source to the point where canon offends them if it doesn't match their beliefs. There's AU historical smut, which ... well, I guess it doesn't hurt anyone living, but it's a slippery slope, isn't it? If you can convince yourself that ... I dunno, Benjamin Franklin and John Hancock had a long, sweaty night of sex after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, who's going to stop you? And it's a short step from there to the J2 thing. Look, I get that a lot of people love their Wincest, are convinced that Sam and Dean are screwing no matter what taboos there are on brother-fucking; I don't believe it but I haven't watched the show so whatever. What I find offensive is the idea that people are turning around and hating on the actors' respective female love interests because said love interests interfere with their real person 'ship. If you love these actors so fucking much, why don't you just be glad they're
happy? It's not as if you even want them for yourself! I could almost get that! I mean, how many people have I met who joke about being Neil Gaiman's imaginary girlfriend who go into paroxysms of teasing, ersatz woe that now he's marrying Amanda Palmer? I get that. I don't get insisting that this actor you apparently love so much has to break up with someone he obviously loves so that he can be banging his co-actor in the privacy of your own head without your having to deal with any of that pesky ... truth and logic business. You do not know best. You are not the boss of them. And it's not wrong just because it's not what you want.
Actually, that's a sentence most of the world needs to hear. Not just Creepers but bigots in general.
It is not wrong just because it is not what you want.I don't think the sex lives of actors is any of my business. I certainly don't think I know who actors
should be shagging (unless they're married or in a serious relationship with someone, in which case they
should, overall, be shagging the person with whom they are involved, though I'm not going to judge them if they're cheating a la Hugh Grant). I have no desire to turn up uninvited at their houses and snap pictures until they find me stalking in their bushes and let me get a picture of us together out of pity. I certainly would not even joke about accusing a celebrity I like of raping me if it wasn't true. That seems a shabby, shoddy way of thanking someone for all the entertainment and/or eye candy they've provided over the years. I don't own Jim Butcher just because I've read every single Dresden Files book, I don't own Colin Ferguson along with my two box sets of Eureka, and my Sandman collection does not give me any right to poke my nose into Neil Gaiman's affairs. It does give me the right to wish him every happiness with Amanda Palmer, but that's not a 'rights' issue; that's polite.
In short: Hey! Creepers! Leave those stars alone!
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