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Trashiness: Americans can’t seem to get enough of it. Whether it’s Courtney Love, the Playboy Mansion, Jerry Springer or reality television, our society is obsessed with its own “lowest grade” culture.

In fact, we lap it up to the joy of happily awaiting publishers and producers alike. Just recently, Martha Stewart announced her plans to launch a prime-time spin-off of the reality show “The Apprentice” following her prison release.

Scott Peterson’s half sister Anne Bird is set to showcase her new tell-all book, “Blood Brother: 33 Reasons My Brother Scott Peterson Is Guilty,” in March through the same publishing company responsible for the expose of Peterson’s mistress, “Witness for the Prosecution of Scott Peterson,” released last month.

And the absurd jury selection process for Michael Jackson’s sexual assault trial is making headlines, as apparently every other person in Santa Maria wants to be a juror. Americans want to get in on cheaply acquired fame and fortune – and it’s normal, right? No big deal. Nothing new.

But trashy Americanism, pervasive and popular though it is, may threaten our cultural integrity.

Quite honestly, I love my slice of American trash, and I’m sure most people feel the same. Last year, I had a friend who regularly read National Enquirer (and secretly I found the magazine fascinating myself). The articles were so shamelessly incriminating – no apologies, no disclaimers. And they made literally everybody, no matter their brains, wealth or beauty, into virtual dummies.

At their crux, trashy magazines are American enterprises. We are the country of pilgrims, having escaped European repression to become the West’s “cowboys” and “mavericks.” There’s a tradition of fierce individualism and competitive markets, for better or worse.

Our history, unlike other older, more traditional countries, contains a natural departure from conventional social norms and seeks new ways to express ourselves.

Most of all, though, we’re all inescapably human. We want the gossip, the dirt. As long as this is the case, American trash, no matter how bad, will never disappear. It’s everywhere, from Ziggy Stardust to Anna Nicole Smith, from John Waters to Britney Spears.

But there’s a clear line to be drawn. Britney Spears and the murder of Laci Peterson simply cannot be packaged and produced for the same purposes. While Spears is an international pop icon, Laci Peterson was undoubtedly the victim of a horrible and terrifying murder. It would be a disgrace to reduce Laci Peterson’s fate to tell-all books and collectibles.

But Bird and Frey seem to do just that. They have exploited her murder trial for lucrative book contracts, and nobody in this country bats an eyelash. On the contrary, we buy the books. And we love them.

Meanwhile, the Prince of Pop’s upcoming trial raises serious issues involving child sexual abuse. It’s no laughing matter. But a slough of individuals are actually rushing to join the trial’s jury, in hopes of becoming stars themselves (much like the jurors of the O.J. trial a decade ago).

Many of them won’t be paid for their time away from work, and yet Michael Jackson’s trial remains more important than a paycheck for their families.

Interestingly, I remember the O.J. Simpson trial of many years ago. At the time, I was in the fifth grade and my entire school stopped classes the day of the verdict to watch the decision on national television. The way we saw it, whatever other conflicts plagued the world at the time couldn’t compare to this crucial decision. It was the only event that could actually delay my math tutorial.

Sure, it seems silly when I look back. But it was a very a serious matter in our minds. The Simpson murder trial was not about murder, but about big stars and Americans going absolutely bonkers.

Andy Warhol often claimed that our culture is pop culture. Certainly, he had a point. We are the ones, after all, who read magazines like People and National Enquirer. We were the ones, many years ago, filling up my school’s cafeteria to watch Simpson go free.

And most recently, we are the ones recording every new twist in Martha Stewart’s boring drama, including a sensationalist NBC television movie based on her life.

Maybe that’s why Bird and Frey published their books. Maybe that’s why Michael Jackson’s trial, which should be about sexual assault, seems more about the fame of “Billy Jean” and the attention other Americans so desperately desire. Essentially, it’s pop.

But this pop idolism is downright numbing. Sometimes I wonder if we will ever draw lines and understand our cultural boundaries. Or will we simply commodify every interesting scandal or tragedy, marketing it in a Spears-like fashion?

Clearly, no laws or policymakers can alter such a course. And the prospects look sparse for cultural change. As reality television renders ordinary people “apprentices,” “bachelorettes” or “survivors,” national best sellers make murder into fodder for romantic gossip and tell-all material.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m part of the problem or if I’m doing anything at all to stop it. But then again, we live in a “pop” culture. And trash is completely unavoidable. We’ve created it, we most certainly live in it, yet I regret how we revel in it.

Fried is a second-year history student. E-mail her at ifried@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.