When You Wish Upon a Star...

“All endangered species leave endangered feces,
If you knew how bad they smelt, you would gladly
Take their pelt…” – Corky and The Juice Pigs

Open Letter to Paris Hilton.

Dear Paris,

It has come to my attention via MSN that you desire to have a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. Once I wiped my eyes, caught my breath, and generally regained my composure, I quickly began to realize that you were serious.

First off, let me say that it’s entirely more likely that Hitler would get a tree planted on the path of the righteous in Jerusalem, than say… you getting a star on the walk of fame. That may sound harsh, but it’s the gospel truth. This may rain on your parade, but at least it’s not a golden shower. (For once…) Your 15 minutes of fame has already lasted too long. How you’ve managed to stretch it this far is a miracle onto itself.

Generally speaking, the people who receive a star on the walk have made some sort of tangible contribution to the entertainment industry. (Other than orally pleasuring a sleaze merchant in a home movie…) Let’s face it… So far your achievements have been somewhat dubious. Sure you’ve diversified since your first “on camera” performance, but let’s call a spade a spade here. It’s all utter shit.

Your mere musings about getting a star earn you a place in infamy. I almost admire that kind of gall. This total lack of shame is an unpleasant reminder of just how fucked Hollywood really is, and more specifically you are a cautionary tale to all those who would spoil the ever living shit out of their children.

You are like a Grim Brothers’ fairy tale come to life. You are a wolf in wolves clothing.

But let’s turn to your meagre offerings. Perhaps I’m wrong.

As near as I can tell, your music career can be best described as more artificial that Madonna’s intentions for adoption, (Fuck you Brangelina! You’re not the only ones who can get a pet African…) and that single sounds like someone smacking around a pregnant house cat with a rattan rug beater. Calling it a sack of crap is an insult to sacks of crap everywhere. It has almost caused my to question my faith in a higher power.

As for your achievements in cinema… The most inspiring moment to date has been seeing you get a shaft of wood lodged into your head (Somewhat ironic I would argue…) in the less than inspiried “House of Wax” (Equally ironic don’t you think?).

Everyone I know cheered when we saw that footage. We actually played it over and over again. It has become my Zapruder film. It brings a tear to my eye each and every time I watch it. Back and to the Right Paris… Back and to the right!!!

Watching you act is about as uncomfortable to me as watching “Deliverance” over and over again. It makes my stomach churn, and repeatedly forces me to avert my eyes. (Yet sometimes I have to peek between fanned out fingers…)

Television really wasn’t much better for you either. You and that dopey Ritchie kid’s adventures through the lands that evolutionists chose to forget about had little to write home about. Being the biggest cock tease in reality TV history leaves an indelible mark, but it’s hardly something to be proud of. For the record, it’s not HOT… It’s downright tragic.

You are a hateful, spoiled, and rotten. One-day karma will come a calling. Hopefully you’ll wind up as a permanent cast member on Hollywood Squares. Perhaps you’ll be one seat above Gordon Jump and one below the guy who played Mad Murdock on the “A-Team.” I can think of no better a punishment. The sooner you’re a footnote in entertainment history, the better for all of us.

If you really wanna leave a mark, how about starting a foundation for the victims of amoral, vapid, culturally bankrupt, wannabe stars who trample over those that they cannot fuck on their way up the social ladder.

No Star for you. Not now, not ever.