Stampede

By Sally Franz

When Janis Joplin got her own stamp, I began to question if there was intelligent life on this planet.

Look, don’t get me wrong, I love Janis Joplin’s music. I can still lip-sync “Come on, come on, come on, take a another little piece of my heart now baby…you know you got it–Waaah–if it makes you feel good”. But you have to understand that Janis Joplin would NEVER have approved of her photo on something as establishment as a stamp. She would never have posed for a photo for a stamp.

She was misery for journalists because she was usually stoned on Southern Comfort for an interview and likely told them to shove off. Or more accurately to “Shove it” and to “blank” off.  And to add irony to injury, her portrait is on a Forever Stamp. A tortured artist who did not live forever, and due to self- inflicted drug overdoses didn’t come close to her life expectancy.

So the Feds take the icon of antiestablishment and make her into a stamp. She probably would have said kiss my behind … which is sort of what you would be doing back when you licked stamps.

I am all for the idea of historic heroes and heroines on stamps. Presidents, generals and of course civil rights activists like Maya Angelou, Martin Luther King, Jr., Susan B. Anthony, Caesar Chevez, Shirley Chisholm. I say, well done for those pioneers who shifted history using science by, say, preventing polio, measles, or TB. That makes sense. Get those printing presses rolling out stamps.

But I draw the line at cartoon/comic book characters. The Marvel super hero stamps are the second most collected at 85 million sold to collectors? Elvis is in the number one spot at 124 million collected. And he changed our history and alleviated human suffering … how?

I thought stamps were to commemorate people who changed the U.S. history for the better. Or we honored those who sacrificed so much versus just amused us. But when all great institutions of our government started outsourcing and thus becoming profit centers, stamp collectors were in the Federal crosshairs. Right now they are having meetings to discuss bringing out yet another Elvis stamp. The news reports say the big issue is whether to have the young skinny Elvis in tight jeans and bobby socks or the old fat Elvis in a sequined jumpsuit. I personally think the arm wrestling on this one should be centered on whether or not there are enough Baby Boomers alive who care about Elvis, skinny or fat. I suppose as an icon in history, Elvis is an American rags-to-riches story, albeit it rags-to-riches-to-excesses enough to kill you.

Maybe it is a sign of the times, but fantasy worlds seem to be more exciting for some people. Iet’s call them philatelists. Caught in a Twilight Zone of snail mail, these last century nerds swarm to cult stamps like ants to lemon-meringue pie. They collected more than 80 million Star Wars stamps.

Not to be out done, the hippies, hipsters and hippy-hippy shakers purchased 75.5 million Rock N Roll stamps.

Disney Romance Stamps (Princesses and amorphous stars like Lady and the Tramp and Mickey and Minnie Mouse?) came in the charts at 57.2 million collected.

The Simpsons are under the Princesses, as it should be, at a little over 50 million. But why are they on the chart at all? Not quite the American dream, the Simpson’s are more like good old fashioned American cynicism. Ah, Homer, the regular Joe. A hero, if your goal is to achieve nothing albeit while glowing in the dark.

And just to show that a good a laugh is better than a swoon, Bugs Bunny edges out Frank Sinatra 44 to 42 million.

What will anthropologists make of these stamp icons in a thousand years? Will they wonder why we did not elect Mickey Mouse to office, or why we did not mourn the day “The King” died? Or will they, like me, wonder how we allowed these stamps to get the stamp of approval.

Sally Franz is a former stand-up comedian, motivational speaker, and radio host. She is a twice-divorced mother of two and a grandmother of three. Sally has a degree in gerontology and several awards for humor writing. She is the author of “Scrambled Leggs: A Snarky Tale of Hospital Hooey,” and “The Baby Boomer’s Guide to Menopause.”