Everyone doesn't want to be a rock star

I was listening to a radio program about the popularity of Guitar Hero III. The interviewer was asking a couple of mega-fans about the game and their theories as to why it's so popular. One of them said, "It's like everyone's dream. Everyone, at some point in their lives wants to be a rock star."

Hmmm. I mused. Had I ever wanted to be a rock star? It wasn't my fantasy while in high school. Heck, I was barely aware of the pop music industry. Back then, I couldn't have told you the names of any rock stars beyond the Beatles -- and I didn't listen to them. I just knew of them. After high school? In college? After college? No. Being a rock star was never anything I wanted to be. That probably explains why I have zero interest in Guitar Hero I, II, or III. I just couldn't care less.

I clearly don't fit this fellow's vision of what "everyone" is like. I suppose that defines me as "no one" then. That's no surprise.

Such a narcissistic world view struck me as odd. This fellow sincerely seemed to think that everyone in the world was (deep down) just like HIM. I suppose that's not so odd. We tend to use ourselves as THE measure of what "normal" is. Democrats pontificate about how "everyone" wants the US to pull its troops out of Iraq immediately, because they do -- conveniently ignoring the existence of millions of people who disagree with them. A resident of New York City (or L.A.) bombasts about how everyone looks to NYC (or LA) as THE center of all that matters. Of course, all those folks in LA do NOT think NYC is the hub, nor do all the folks in NYC think LA is the hub. It's a pretty handy delusion, a neat way to win arguments, to simply "vanish" any opposing voices and presume that the world is in total agreement with you. The ultimate appeal to the numbers fallacy.

Not everyone does agree with them, of course, but they apparently don't exist, so it's no big deal. Note-to-self: Suspect any speaker who professes to know what "everyone" wants.