I hadn’t seen nor heard about former MTV VJ Jesse Camp for years (and even when I did know about him, in the mid-late nineties, it was only because I occasionally passed a television in disgust on my way to my CaseLogic to pick out my favorite punk cassette).
But now suddenly, like within the past two months, I see him everywhere–hanging out at a Sunday barbecue where Crooked Cowboy is playing, shoving a camera into the faces of me and my friends as we leave a Dethklok show at the Wiltern, and now, even talking about being fucked up with James St. James at Homo-a-Go-Go. And apparently I’m not alone in taking notice. Are we doomed to spend the next couple years watching Jesse worm his way into new forms of media?
Truth be told, his reemergence makes me so sad. I actually kind of like this guy. It’s not his fault that at the young age of 18, he made a desperate and successful (though possibly fraudulent) bid to garner fame and hopefully fortune from reality television that devolved into personal humiliation and degradation at the hands of big corporate fucks who ate him up and spat him out, hairdo and all. Looking back on my life, I’ve made far more self-destructive decisions at an older age, and even now am probably succeeding less at life than this man. And that’s very, very sad. Jesse, I think I need a hug.