This is the question I find myself asking myself. I think "vulture" is the apt noun to describe one who overdoses on popular culture. After all, vultures eat carrion, don't they?
I gorged myself last night on the visual equivalent to carrion, starting with the beginning of the end of The Sopranos. I feel like Michael Corleone. Every time I swear I won't give David Chase (the show's creator) another hour of my life that I'd never get back, he sucks me back in with stuff like last night. IT WAS AWESOME! And that's all I'm going to say about that. I'm sure, if you're a fan, Chase'll get you on the comeback.
Then, even though I TiVoed it, I tuned in for the last half-hour of Flavor of Love. I discussed how I got sucked in in my posting here ("February 24, 2006: My Latest Guilty Pleasure"). So, Flav picked Hoopz, huh? Him passing over Ms. New York renews my faith in men. No matter hot a woman may be or think she is, crazy is just plain crazy! Now, I can go back to more lofy pursuits at 10:00 on a Sunday... like Grey's Anatomy.
So, I don't know if I can help being a pop culture vulture, or even if I should. I throw up my hands. Me getting mad at myself for my oversized appetite for pop culture is like getting mad at the ocean. It is what it is. C'est la vie...