I smell a rat. And as much as I don't like him, it's not Ted.

By now most everyone knows the story of Ted Williams, the homeless man who gained sudden fame thanks to a YouTube video that went viral which showcased a remarkably rich voice that emanated from his tattered-looking body. Once Williams was discovered, America jumped all over him. And I’m officially sick of it.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m as much of a sucker for a good story as the next guy. But somewhere around day three of his viral fame, I began to smell a rat. And though I’m not particularly fond of the guy, the rat wasn’t Williams.

The entire nation watched as the former disc jockey made the requisite rounds on the morning talk shows. And many of us listened with delight to his voiceover over on the new Kraft macaroni and cheese commercial. Some of us even reached for our tissues during his public and tearful reunion with his mom.

Not me though. That canned reunion was cheesier than the dish that accompanied his voiceover. The coverage of the meeting featured a banner along the bottom of the screen that shamelessly read: The man with the golden voice meets mom. The only way it could have possibly been worse would have been if that verbiage was followed by: brought to you by the friendly folks at Kraft. And Coca-Cola.

“Hi Mommy. Hi Mommy,” said the grown man in his beautiful voice that was cracking with what sounded like feigned emotion.

Williams’ voice recently resonated with a different type of emotion during another familial encounter, only this time it wasn’t feigned lamentations of innocence lost directed at his mommy. It was sincere anger directed at his daughter. The altercation went down outside a Hollywood hotel and got so heated that the LAPD was called to the scene.

Predictably, Williams downplayed the episode, categorizing it as nothing more than a minor family squabble. But the words he used to describe that squabble to “Entertainment Tonight” made it sound anything but minor. “My daughter exploded, just erupted into this jump-up-in-my-face type of thing, fists started flying, none of which were mine, none of which were mine, but it could have escalated to the point where it could have gotten really ugly.”

Suddenly the unpleasant smell of rotting rodent grew even stronger. But it still wasn’t Williams. That said, what kind of jerk would throw his daughter under the bus like that? It seemed to me like this guy was more interested in covering his golden ass than he was in making anything out of his golden voice — a man more delighted with his unearned fame than humbled by the borderline miraculous second chance society had given him.

What’s more, I even doubted the veracity of his comments. Especially after I read that his daughter told “Entertainment Tonight” the argument stemmed from the fact that her father had been drinking. Though Williams has openly admitted to struggling with substance abuse in the past, he vehemently denied his daughter’s claims.

Well guess what? He was lying. And the world found as much when Williams appeared on the Dr. Phil Show, where the man with the golden voice was confronted by the man with the invisible bonnet. I almost felt sorry for Williams once the bald, therapeutic shark sensed his psychological blood in the water. Oprah’s Bitch quickly pounced on his prey, effortlessly exploiting the argument between Williams and his daughter, swimming right up to the very heart of the matter — substance abuse.

Williams was exposed. Though he had been telling anyone who would listen that he’d been clean for two years, angry testimonials provided by his family suggested it was more like two hours. Off the air, Dr. Phil convinced Williams to go to rehab.

Quite a ride, no? It’s odd to think that just 11 days ago, Williams was homeless. Most Americans pretend as if homeless folks are invisible. Until, apparently, we find one with a talent that tickles us. Then we that person’s every move.

Ted Williams has gone from living on the streets to kicking it with Matt Lauer faster than I can realistically expect to receive intra-state mail. And if Williams thinks this is an accomplishment, he’s sorely mistaken. Thus far, he’s accomplished absolutely nothing. Sadly though, we live in a world of labels, and people have a tendency to take such labels at their word. And the one attached to him that reads “famous” is more impressive than the one that read “homeless.” What most fail to consider, though, is that there’s almost always a story behind the label. And that story is the truth. Not matter what the label says.

But pop culture seldom dares to find the truth. The label system works just fine for it. And in this case, pop culture has been hard at work assigning pithy monikers for Williams.

Homeless. Famous. Addict.

That rat I smell? It’s the bloodthirsty, ratings-horny society that gobbled up this poor clown — the one that ushered him through their superficial system of pop-culture hierarchy. The one that capitalized on the man who was too smitten with his sudden brand of fame to even notice he was being exploited.

All in a time period that seemed as brief the click of a mouse.

I wish my kids were older. Because if they were, I’d tell them in no uncertain terms what a preposterous crock of shit this entire episode has been.

Image: Wikipedia