Getting to the top of the pile in the small pond we call the Canadian cultural scene takes three things; a modicum of talent, good luck, and good management.
Once you're there, it's pretty much guaranteed to be a lifetime gig. The Canadian cultural scene is chock full 'o folks whose best days are decades behind them.
Every once in awhile fate will lift someone out of the little pond and deposit them on the world stage. Alice Munro for example.
I'm pretty sure Jian Ghomeshi believed he was destined for the world stage too.
Alas, it was not to be.
Instead, Jian's wagon went the other way, and fast.
While we were motoring home from the city the other day, the Farm Manager was reading me the Globe and Mail, and while she was reciting the list of big names in a story about some fund-raiser or other that Toronto's beautiful people had blessed with both their funds and their presence, it occurred to me that something was missing from the attendant photos.
A year ago the same story about the same event had Jian posed in several pictures.
Now it's "Jian who?"
Since it's a stultifyingly long drive from the city to Falling Downs, we had ample time to diagnose the root causes of Jian's demise.
How did a guy who was on top of the world six months ago make himself a has-been overnight?
Step one; forget about the good luck and the good management and assume it's all about you.
Step two; since you've convinced yourself that you're the kind of gigantic talent that comes along once in a generation, ease up on any filters that may have stood between you and your public self. Let it all hang out!
Step three; having let it all hang out, so to speak, assume that the adoring public will rush to your defense, because after all, you're a talent that comes along once in a generation, a household name... good luck and good management be damned, you're bigger than that...
So Jian wakes up in the ditch, having been abandoned by his good luck and his good management.
At least he still has his talent.