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Tuesday, March 01, 2005
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 IN PRAISE OF PARIS HILTON
I know that this assertion is premature, but I believe that in the decades and centuries to come, Paris Hilton will be regarded as something approaching a Saint. Indeed, there will come a day that people will declare that "Paris died for our sins" without chuckling ironically.
Why do I say this? Has the drink finally destroyed my cognitive functions? Could it be that the semen back-up has, at long last, clouded my judgment? Alas, none of these things are true. In fact, I look forward to them all occurring, sooner rather than later. While it may be true that a mind is terrible thing to waste, its ruination can bring endless hours of entertainment. Were it not for my status as a Doer of Good Deeds Under License of the Province of Ontario, I would surely be imbibing Dangerous and Unlawful Drugs constantly at this point in my life. There is very little else left to me now but those Good Deeds and even they leave me feeling empty at night.
But I digress. I intended to write about Paris Hilton and I shall fulfil that obligation to my worldwide readership and, more importantly, to myself.
For the last nine days I have been engaged in a profound debate with myself. Is Miss Hilton either compelling evidence of the existence of Karma, or is she the greatest Living Theatre proponent of this young century? Andy Kaufman risen from the ashes, pheonix-like, so to speak?
She is most certainly one of the two. This much is beyond dispute.
Paris has been given much. Wealth without the burden of work, celebrity without virtue and beauty without deeper purpose. One would think this is the greatest existence that anyone could hope for. Miss Hilton may be an Accidental Jesus.
And just as was true with Christ, her life is not without trial. Just one week ago, the contents of her cell phone were leaked on the Internet for all to see. All of Hollywood has been driven into hiding, cursing Miss Hilton's name and ruing any association with her, past or present.
Her most tender and romantic moments with a sleazy "businessman" were made available to the public less than two years ago. Paris Hilton cannot even enjoy the romance and quiet dignity of night vision videotaped sexual encounters that each of us cherish without a second thought.
It appears that sinister outside forces conspire against Paris Hilton on a constant basis. Yet this does not deter her from persuing her professional goal, demonstrating a complete lack of moral centerdness and intellectual activity on national television.
Paris Hilton is the perfect ambassador of North America. We believe ourselves to be an egalitarian sort, who cherish the concept of equality for all. Yet we secretly harbor deep resentments against one another. The poor against the rich, and the unsightly toward the beautiful. We build people such as Paris up, only to glory in their fall. In this, Paris Hilton perfectly represents us all and provides the greatest public service anyone could be asked to perform. Anyone can run into a burning building and rescue its inhabitants, but very few of us could repeatedly undermine our own dignity in public on a daily basis. No, very few of us have the Right Stuff for that.
Despite her given name, Paris would almost certainly be shunned in Europe. Self-degradation by private citizens is discouraged there. After all, this is what the Great Nations of Europe have Royal Families for. Indeed, Paris is a uniquely American phenomenon. In his movie Nixon, Oliver Stone had the disgraced president intone, "People looked at Kennedy and saw what they wanted to be. They look at me and see what they are."
Paris Hilton does both. An impressive task for a tawdry, half-bright 22 year old, no?
I wanted to describe Miss Hilton's Holy works before getting into why she would be the ideal sex partner, lest you think me something less than a reflective gentleman.
Miss Hilton has considerable physical appeal. A more than acceptable face and a near perfect body, untouched by the surgeon's scalpel. She is a truly attractive young woman with unfathomable financial resources. Upon giving her total sexual gratification, a gentleman can reasonably expect to be in receipt of a diamond studded cock ring and and first class tickets for the Mile High Club in appreciation.
Sadie wrote about the sexuality of males and females just this morning. While she made some valid points, she missed one of the most important ones of all, the psychological component of Great Sex.
If you are anything like I suspect Paris is, then you are a dirty, little slut. You need - no, you insist - on being treated like a disposable fucktoy. The craving to be thrown about the bed and covered in jism is a powerful one, one that is repressed at great risk to the mental and physical health of everyone involved.
As you might imagine, this is fairly near impossible to attain in a "committed relationship." Love demands a certain amount restraint, and restraint is the last thing you seek when filled with the burning need to be treated with all of the courtesy a common whore would expect. Anyone who doubts me should try what I just described with his or her "soul mate."
Concepts like that of a "soul mate" are ridiculous to people like Paris and me. People like us are utterly without a soul to share. Consequently, we can wallow in the carnal filth that so many avoid, even as they fantasize about it in their lonelier moments. Every moment of every day is a moment of moral clarity for people like Paris Hilton.
I won't deny that there are moments of complete gratification when "making love in a committed relationship." But this is the difference between a night on Ecstasy and the third or fourth year of a crystal meth binge. One is pleasant, if temporary and fleeting, while the other is total and mind-ruining. And one is decidedly more fun and less work than the other. And if there's anything Paris Hilton knows its fun and little work.
And after all of the work Paris does in degrading herself, I can only imagine how she would appreciate someone like me picking up some of the slack. Before I exit this mortal plane, I hope only to meet a woman whom I could denude of her public hair using only candle wax, knowing that the likeliest response would be a Declaration of Eternal Love and a request that I do the same to her sister as she records it on her cell phone. Only then could I perish, secure in the knowlege that I have lived a consequential life.
Of course, there is always the possibility that I'm wrong. You remain free to decide for yourselves.
PermalinkLabels: Celebrity Skin
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