So the new version of Fame is out. Matter of time, I suppose. (There are probably 1980s weather forecasts in Hollywood development.)“Fame costs and right here is where you start paying.” Error 1: Fame is somehow linked to training in the performing arts. Obviously this doesn’t apply today. The way to be a household name is simply to be the last one evicted from the house. But did the Fame theory ever work? One of the original characters was a brooding songwriter. (How many songwriters ever need to evade paparazzi?) A cellist. (Cello isn’t even an instrument, it’s child abuse. And not even the glamorous child abuse that gets you on Oprah.) And, a dancer. (Check the chorus of tap-dancers in a Broadway musical. How many of them test positive for fame?) Dancers are the least famous people in the world. Any time it’s better when there’s more of you on stage, it’s not fame. You might as well make patterns in an Opening Ceremony. For that matter, sit in the stands at an Opening Ceremony. Same thing. The big picture is the star, and you are a pixel. Pixels don’t get their own dressing room. Does fame cost? Well, the price of fame is privacy. And for the non-famous -- those suffering a chronic oversupply of privacy -- having some removed, is the whole point. Fame doesn’t cost. It just keeps giving and giving. Until it expires. Right there is where you start paying. The price of fame is the comedown. Pay later. It’s like a credit card. Which brings us to... “I’m gonna live forever.” Elvis (42), MJ (50), Bruce Lee (32). Yes, their names are remembered. Is this the same as living forever? On this question, the coroner is still out. If he were alive today, Elvis would be 74. In other words, alive, but not freakishly so. Only as ‘immortal’ as a healthy human. So, fame keeps you alive, up to the normal lifespan. Forever? We’ll know more about fame’s magic healing powers, if Elvis is still famous when he’s 150. So how to update the Fame school curriculum? Well, look at what’s on TV. These days, the Fame classes would have to include performance cooking, grumpy restaurant management, house renovation, landscape gardening, hiring, firing, spouse selection, wilderness survival, envy, quippy vitriol, and veterinary science. And of course, how to marry a professional athlete.