by Donna Trujillo

Created on: March 30, 2007

The mountain has come to Muhammad and its name is Brangelina.

Celebrity. There's a huge hole in my soul and a bazillion little gods are dying to fill it. And I'm not talking about the famous people. They're filling soul-holes of their own. I'm talking about the handlers, the publicists, the photographers and editors, the producers of fake news and fake news they call legitimate journalism, the sellers, the buyers. Capitalism.

Who needs God when you've got Paris Hilton?

I'd like to think that this kind of idol worship is new. But then I remember that day at the museum with my mother. We were looking at antiquities, specifically cups and saucers and everyday items used by ancient Greeks, before they were ancient, when they were just everyday people like you and me. Cup after cup, saucer after saucer, bowl after bowl had an image of Zeus on it. As I gazed at rows of adorned cups I thought of those souvenir kid cups you get at McDonald's. Those cups always have somebody or something on them, depending on what's for sale in Hollywood or Cartoonland. The comparison knocked around in my head awhile and then I said, "So Zeus was the Hello Kitty or antiquity I guess."

My mother was shocked.

I didn't mean to blaspheme the gods of antiquity. It was just an observation about how and where and when we choose to assert and acknowledge God. I have to think that if God is everywhere, then whatever is everyday in my life is where God is to be found.

So what's everyday for me now? Well, the grocery store is filled with everyday items. But for the sake of this conversation, I'm going to stick to the checkout stand. That's where the impulse items are. That's where, if I'm needing a quick fix - a God-fix, if you will - that's where I can just grab at it, like the hemorrhaging woman grabbing at Jesus' cloak.

Apparently, today's gods are Rachael Ray and Angelina and of course, Nick and Jessica. American Idol's Sanjaya is a 15-minute god and so are reality lovebirds Rob and Amber. Donald Trump is a giant in the pantheon, along with Chris Rock and Tori Spelling.

The world is experiencing a crisis of faith over the drug overdose of Anna Nicole Smith. Why else would CNN interrupt its regular programming for hour upon hour of coverage about a dead woman? "Anna Nicole Smith is dead," intones a devastated anchor. And hours later after relentless coverage of the fact, the newsflash, "Anna Nicole Smith is dead." And throughout, images of this goddess crackle on screens, a bombardment of idols served

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