Paris Hilton's photo was plastered all over the papers and internet sites recently. It seems that she went to the Viennese Ball, and was bored. There she was, checking her cell phone, looking for all the world like she was bored out of her empty little blonde head.
Why is that news? It's bad manners, but rudeness is so universal it's hardly worth reporting. The least she could have done was look interested, maybe talk to some of her fellow ball-goers.
Well, guess what? Somebody call the Associated Press, because I'm bored. And here's what has me zoned out of my skull:
Paris. Not the city; the bimbo. I'm bored with the likes of her and Jessica Simpson, and other marginally talented people whose only contribution is to serve as a good bad example. Excuse me for a moment while I yawn deeply.
Britney Spears is boring as cat litter. No one's heard her sing for a while, or whatever it is she does. All we know is that she can't stay married, loses her undies, and likes to go out and get wasted. Boo-o-o-o-rring! Since no one apparently is paying attention, she bounces in and out of rehab like a rubber check, and now she's gone and shaved her head. And gotten a tattoo. Whatever it is you're trying to say, Britney, I'm not listening. La la la la la la la --I can't hear you.
Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton. The nominating convention is so far off in the political distance that you can't even see it, yet these two are already sniping at each other like a wife at her philandering husband (about which Hillary has some knowledge). It's even too early to speculate if one will be the other's running mate, and they'll HAVE to make nice with each other. I'm tired of these two already. If this keeps up by the time 2008 rolls around, the country will know more than we ever will need to know about how these two feel about each other. And, all of it is totally booo-o-o-o-ring.
Global warming is deadly boring. Al Gore is back in the fray warning everyone like Chicken Little that the ice caps are melting, the ice caps are melting! We have to find cleaner burning fuels, drive less, fly less, it's too late we're doomed. But we still send that Space Shuttle up through the ozone layer and call that progress. Sigh.
A Viennese ball sounds exciting to me.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Life as a warning to others
There's a quote from somewhere to the effect that "may your life serve as a warning to others." That quote kept coming back to me after Anna Nichole Smith died.
After a flurry of publicity surrounding the birth of her daughter, followed immediately by the suspicious death of her son, Anna Nicole pulled off the biggest publicity stunt she ever could by her own death. She couldn't have planned it better.
Anna Nicole will forever be remembered as a ditzy blonde who was an exotic dancer and posed nude for Playboy. She wanted to be like Marilyn Monroe and developed her "look" to emulate the late actress. She was like her in death too, dying suddenly, at a young age, the cause of death a mystery. Reportedly her nurse, shades of Marilyn's housekeeper, didn't call 911 right away when she found Anna Nicole unconscious and unresponsive, and didn't do any CPR - waiting instead for the paramedics to do it. Can't help but wonder if a Kennedy is going to surface somewhere amidst all the hoopla.
Having no discernible, marketable skills, Anna Nicole parlayed her sexiness into marriage with a rich old man. You do what you can.
She starred a TV program that focused on Anna Nicole being Anna Nicole. Nice work if you can get it.
Then, having exhausted all her resources, she dropped dead. It may be the end of Anna Nicole Smith, but it isn't the end of the saga. In death, as in life, Anna Nicole is serving as a warning to others.
Three men claim to be the father of her infant daughter. All three are willing to submit DNA to prove it. How could a ditzy bimbo like Anna Nicole find three men who are so devoted to fatherhood? A lot of unmarried mothers no doubt are wondering that after hearing "are you sure it's mine?" and chasing after child support money. It's tempting to wonder if -after what you know will be years of litigation and lawyer fees, it is determined that young Dannielynn is as penniless as a high school dropout who has to get work as a stripper - how long it will take paternal concern to fly out the window.
A warning to others. Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband, who claims to be the baby's father, told a news source that he had an affair with Anna Nicole because she was a very sexy woman and sex with her was at the top of - what? All possibilities? Not because he loved her, not because she cared for him - and from all indications, she cared for and trusted very few - but because having her was something to brag about.
Not that he's any great prize. He is willing to dump his wife to bring in a baby who apparently has more money. Doesn't say much for marriage, but then again Zsa Zsa - an Anna Nicole precursor - always took it rather lightly herself. It's just that now that she's 90, who's going to take care of her in her senior years?
What a mark Anna Nicole has left for posterity. Pretty impressive for a ditzy blonde. Here's hoping that she's resting in the peace that she could never have in this life.
After a flurry of publicity surrounding the birth of her daughter, followed immediately by the suspicious death of her son, Anna Nicole pulled off the biggest publicity stunt she ever could by her own death. She couldn't have planned it better.
Anna Nicole will forever be remembered as a ditzy blonde who was an exotic dancer and posed nude for Playboy. She wanted to be like Marilyn Monroe and developed her "look" to emulate the late actress. She was like her in death too, dying suddenly, at a young age, the cause of death a mystery. Reportedly her nurse, shades of Marilyn's housekeeper, didn't call 911 right away when she found Anna Nicole unconscious and unresponsive, and didn't do any CPR - waiting instead for the paramedics to do it. Can't help but wonder if a Kennedy is going to surface somewhere amidst all the hoopla.
Having no discernible, marketable skills, Anna Nicole parlayed her sexiness into marriage with a rich old man. You do what you can.
She starred a TV program that focused on Anna Nicole being Anna Nicole. Nice work if you can get it.
Then, having exhausted all her resources, she dropped dead. It may be the end of Anna Nicole Smith, but it isn't the end of the saga. In death, as in life, Anna Nicole is serving as a warning to others.
Three men claim to be the father of her infant daughter. All three are willing to submit DNA to prove it. How could a ditzy bimbo like Anna Nicole find three men who are so devoted to fatherhood? A lot of unmarried mothers no doubt are wondering that after hearing "are you sure it's mine?" and chasing after child support money. It's tempting to wonder if -after what you know will be years of litigation and lawyer fees, it is determined that young Dannielynn is as penniless as a high school dropout who has to get work as a stripper - how long it will take paternal concern to fly out the window.
A warning to others. Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband, who claims to be the baby's father, told a news source that he had an affair with Anna Nicole because she was a very sexy woman and sex with her was at the top of - what? All possibilities? Not because he loved her, not because she cared for him - and from all indications, she cared for and trusted very few - but because having her was something to brag about.
Not that he's any great prize. He is willing to dump his wife to bring in a baby who apparently has more money. Doesn't say much for marriage, but then again Zsa Zsa - an Anna Nicole precursor - always took it rather lightly herself. It's just that now that she's 90, who's going to take care of her in her senior years?
What a mark Anna Nicole has left for posterity. Pretty impressive for a ditzy blonde. Here's hoping that she's resting in the peace that she could never have in this life.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Valentines we'll never see
To Tara Conner:
You guzzled booze; you snorted coke
You partied like a slut.
The embodiment of class and poise
You were anything but.
But now you have a second chance
To make my heart beat gladder.
Which shows I really can forgive,
Except for Miss Nevada.
The Donald
Barak:
You want to be the president
But just what does that mean
When Biden says you're handsome
Articulate and clean?
It means that someone's looking hard
At pieces of your past
And dragging up all kinds of stuff
To see how long you'll last.
Rest assured, I know the score
You don't deserve that strife.
So back away, no need to play,
Let's just elect my wife.
Bill
Bill
Do you recall the time we had?
We thought the world was ours.
But then you had to mess things up
With Lewinsky, Jones and Flowers.
I'll be the brand new comeback kid
I'm here to tell you, son,
I'm sure to win, there's be no spin
I'll show you how it's done.
Hillary
Astronaut Lisa Nowak:
Roses are red
Pigs live in pens
For Valentine's Day
A box of Depends.
Violets are blue
Whaddya say?
To blasting a rival
With some pepper spray.
Your three-sided romance
We won't forget soon.
You just gave new meaning
To over the moon.
You guzzled booze; you snorted coke
You partied like a slut.
The embodiment of class and poise
You were anything but.
But now you have a second chance
To make my heart beat gladder.
Which shows I really can forgive,
Except for Miss Nevada.
The Donald
Barak:
You want to be the president
But just what does that mean
When Biden says you're handsome
Articulate and clean?
It means that someone's looking hard
At pieces of your past
And dragging up all kinds of stuff
To see how long you'll last.
Rest assured, I know the score
You don't deserve that strife.
So back away, no need to play,
Let's just elect my wife.
Bill
Bill
Do you recall the time we had?
We thought the world was ours.
But then you had to mess things up
With Lewinsky, Jones and Flowers.
I'll be the brand new comeback kid
I'm here to tell you, son,
I'm sure to win, there's be no spin
I'll show you how it's done.
Hillary
Astronaut Lisa Nowak:
Roses are red
Pigs live in pens
For Valentine's Day
A box of Depends.
Violets are blue
Whaddya say?
To blasting a rival
With some pepper spray.
Your three-sided romance
We won't forget soon.
You just gave new meaning
To over the moon.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Some random thoughts
I really don't know what to think about that incident in Boston where two guys put up lighted cartoon characters, and shut the city down because someone saw one and thought it was a bomb.
On the one hand, I want to laugh because it's funny. It's whimsical and silly and apparently those little critters went up in several cities and no one really noticed. It's also sophomoric, and the two guys at their arraignment didn't help much with their attitude. Or their appearance.
On the other hand, what if somene had put up an explosive device, and it detonated? It could happen. Then we'd be lamenting how unprotected we are and how careless we've been.
Either way, there's no right answer. I like to think as a nation we still have a sense of humor. If not, then the terrorists are winning. They said they'd destroy us from within. They don't even have to try; we're doing it to ourselves. Maybe that's their plan.
It seems that Punxutawny Phil failed to see his shadow, and we'll have an early spring. You gotta wonder about any rodent, or any other critter, so afraid of his shadow that he burrows back inside if he sees it. Can you put much faith in someone with that kind of lack of self-confidence?
So if Phil had seen his shadow, we'd have six more weeks of winter putting spring at — oh, say — mid-March. Right where it usually is. Spring will get here when it gets here. The groundhog simply has a good PR agent.
Maybe I should say something about Super Bowl Sunday. Everyone else has. It's second only to Thanksgiving in conspicuous food consumption. Probably more boozing goes on than during New Year's Eve. Some churches have cancelled Sunday afternoon activities; they know no one will show up anyway. Advertisers love it; they trot out commercials that will be aired only during the game, confirming that sometimes the commercials are better than the programming. And the network makes big bucks on the ads, so they have something to tide them over until Christmas when they rake it more profits.
Oh yeah. Two teams will play football. Seems like a whole lot of hype over a silly game. I wonder if the groundhog has a TV, beer and chicken wings in his burrow for Sunday. Depending on who wins, he may be too hung over to come out until spring.
On the one hand, I want to laugh because it's funny. It's whimsical and silly and apparently those little critters went up in several cities and no one really noticed. It's also sophomoric, and the two guys at their arraignment didn't help much with their attitude. Or their appearance.
On the other hand, what if somene had put up an explosive device, and it detonated? It could happen. Then we'd be lamenting how unprotected we are and how careless we've been.
Either way, there's no right answer. I like to think as a nation we still have a sense of humor. If not, then the terrorists are winning. They said they'd destroy us from within. They don't even have to try; we're doing it to ourselves. Maybe that's their plan.
It seems that Punxutawny Phil failed to see his shadow, and we'll have an early spring. You gotta wonder about any rodent, or any other critter, so afraid of his shadow that he burrows back inside if he sees it. Can you put much faith in someone with that kind of lack of self-confidence?
So if Phil had seen his shadow, we'd have six more weeks of winter putting spring at — oh, say — mid-March. Right where it usually is. Spring will get here when it gets here. The groundhog simply has a good PR agent.
Maybe I should say something about Super Bowl Sunday. Everyone else has. It's second only to Thanksgiving in conspicuous food consumption. Probably more boozing goes on than during New Year's Eve. Some churches have cancelled Sunday afternoon activities; they know no one will show up anyway. Advertisers love it; they trot out commercials that will be aired only during the game, confirming that sometimes the commercials are better than the programming. And the network makes big bucks on the ads, so they have something to tide them over until Christmas when they rake it more profits.
Oh yeah. Two teams will play football. Seems like a whole lot of hype over a silly game. I wonder if the groundhog has a TV, beer and chicken wings in his burrow for Sunday. Depending on who wins, he may be too hung over to come out until spring.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)