Confession time, kids. We... OK, I... have been thinking about
doing an "I Hate Myself For Loving You" about Kim Kardashian. But you
know what my problem is with that? I'm totally proud of thinking
she's hot. Granted, it's unclear what she ever did to deserve the
modicum of basic-cable fame that she has carved out for herself, other
than be born rich and cute and sign a porn waiver. And yeah, maybe the porn
in question was deeply, unrelentingly boring. Perhaps you even think Keeping Up With the Kardashians is a spectacle of privileged, banal self absorption? (I wouldn't know. No girl's worth watching reality TV. I learned that ages ago.)
But you know what? None of that matters. Just look at her! She's a fine fine woman! If she were
to bring them big, round eyes/lips/boobs/buns into the same elevator as
you or me, no matter we thought of her career, we'd still be shaking in our shoes the whole
ride up, going "Damn, Moesha's brother ain't having it that good ever again!"
But wouldn't you know: here comes Britney Spears wanting to ruin everything.
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