Thursday, September 02, 2004

How to turn gold into lead

Well, 'gold' as in 'someone very wealthy' and 'lead' as in 'something rather cheap and common'.

Taking cheap shots at people isn't really my thing but Paris Hilton has somehow wormed her way into my life and I don't like it one bit. How I even know of the insipid little creature's existence is a fascinating study in saturation marketing. I don't have a TV, don't read magazines, occasionally read newspapers that would only ever deign to mention her obituary (even then, only if pressed) and frequent places on the Internet that would much rather ignore than comment on or sneer at the little thing.

Nevertheless, she's everywhere. On billboards, in shop windows, in advertisments in department stores, on certain newspapers left in the Tube and...lastly and most insidiously...in popup ads.

Now, I'll concede that she's pretty and has a good figure. All well and lovely if she had the good grace to just keep her over-preened lips shut and be the meat coathanger for certain fashions. Unfortunately for the civilised world, Paris thinks that her opinion is worth something.

A little news for Paris - a blowjob is no big deal, neither is sex. Being accidentally caught in the act is also one of the things that happens in life.

A video - distributed around the world - graphically showing you banging Shannon Doherty's leftovers is severely, deeply humiliating. It's *not* something to build a career on.

Nevertheless, when going to Amazon.com.....yes, goddamn it - AMAZON - I encountered an ad for her new fashion range.

If I had a teenage daughter that decided to wear that, I would be secretly shopping for baby carriages, an engineless, wheelless car to rest on blocks and a caravan. There's simply no other way to go once you start down that path.

The gormless bint has also written a book. The book has certain chapters where her Chihuaha 'Tinkerbell' "... the best-dressed dog in the world shares pages from her own secret diary."

Paris Hilton's book is co-authored by her dog, likely because her dog is already a published author.

I thought I'd just let that sentence hang in the air like that so that the full gravity of the meaning would hit readers at the base of the skull like a well-wielded vase in a murder mystery from the 60's.

The marketing blurb for this tome states:

"In her fabulous and very tongue-in-cheek -- and chic -- guide, you'll discover Paris's twenty-three rules for How to Be an Heiress (Never have only one cell phone when you can have many), Paris's list of Twelve Things an Heiress Would Never Do (Go out the night after the Oscars)..."

...and then defers to the madam of the miniskirt for a quote:

"If you follow your own plans and dreams and you don't let anyone talk you out of them, then you'll start to get the hang of being an heiress....All you need after that is a good handbag, a great pose, and very high heels, and you're on your way. (Long blond hair doesn't hurt, either.)"

Oh Paris, honey, it must hurt so much to be so very, very silly.

Pull down that big, thick, dusty book-thing with the word 'dictionary' on it from the shelf with all the other 'ouchie they make me think so hard' books and take a peek inside. You'll find that being an heir is a legal entitlement to assets or an estate after some triggering event - usually a death.

Handbags and high heels are not a prerequisite in any way - although I can see the intelligence of you choosing them very carefully. Ten minutes of conversation with you and I think I would be looking for something, ANYTHING, to distract me from the pain.

"Monica, Monica" I hear you say "what's wrong with you? This will all blow over in a couple of months - the book will sell 20 copies and then be relegated to the bargain bin at those cheap little places that sell romance novels and 99p Shakespeare."

Not exactly. Paris still has acting and singing careers to obliterate before she goes on to the places where celebrities go to die - the handbag designing business.



So this, by the way, is why I haven't posted in a while. My mind crashed when reading her words and had to reboot. Errors were found on restarting. I'm in the middle of a mental defrag consisting of drinking a lot of herbal tea and remembering that most of the women I know can compose a sentence without tossing their hair back from their shoulders and saying 'like' an inordinate number of times.

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