The Tom Cruise - Ronald McDonald Mid-Life Crisis

My mother thinks Tom Cruise is acting like a clown. That may be a disservice to a rather well known jester who’s having a bit of his own midlife make-over. Ronald McDonald, the clown prince of fast food is whipping himself into shape, slimming down and toning up. It appears the host of the Happy Meal must have been upset about all the bad press recently, so it was time for some re-imaging. Now Ronnie’s juggling vegetables and sinking baskets with Yao Ming. Although Mr. McDonald’s new regimen does not seem include Mr. Cruise’s latest form of exercise – couch jumping like a maniac and verbally sparring with everyone carrying a microphone. And while the new and improved Ronnie McD is sporting a more form fitting outfit, Mr. Cruise’s wardrobe change calls for wearing a fashionable 26-year-old on his arm. It’s a toss up as to who looks more stylish; the junk food jester snowboarding in gigantic red saddle shoes or our one-time Top Gun destroying his previously super-sized Mr. Cool demeanor?

It is not merely a coincidence that Tom and Ron are both age 42 years. It seems to be a tough age for cultural icons. Take that most feminine of examples – Barbie. She too flipped out around 42, casting off Ken, her stalwart boyfriend of four decades to take up with a new beau, Blaine. An Aussie surfer dude, Blaine’s favorite color is black and he likes shopping with Barbie, making him just this side of a metro-sexual. Or a New Yorker. And in a miraculous metamorphosis Barbie started sporting a – hold your breath now – belly button. But it all paid off when Barbie’s make-over boosted her sagging sales. All this has me concerned about another cultural icon rounding 40, the Pillsbury Dough Boy. What if he decides to get his stomach stapled? The thought of ‘pop-n-fresh’ rice cakes is enough to send me to Krispie Kreme for shares of their ever falling company stock.

Even mere mortals suffer bouts of the vapors when hitting a certain age. My Dad started slicking back his hair with enough grease to have an OPEC oil minister assigned to his cowlick. He followed up by buying a truck so manly, so testosterone charged that he had to pole vault into the driver’s seat. I am certain my mother prayed there was another woman. The thought of his temporary loss of perspective for no cause was just too much to stomach. That seems precisely what so many people are saying about Tom Cruise’s latest act. They’re hoping it’s all a publicity stunt – the May/December romance, the sofa leaping, the Scientology sermons, beating up on poor Brook Shields. It is a risky business altering your image so drastically from Big Man on Campus to Ridiculous Man on Campus.

But, I am not here to bury Tom Cruise, nor to fan the flames of his war of the words with the press. In fact, I applaud him. Because it makes my rather mundane loser life seem so incredibly normal and stable. I feel better about myself. It’s kind of like finding out the hippest kid in high school is still living at home with his Mother. And you find out while ordering the #4 combo from him at McDonalds. Now that’s a Happy Meal.

by Stephanie Becker