What do I have in common with Princess Diana, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus and Paris Hilton? Yeah, certainly not brains; even collectively, they have none. Plus, I'm way more attractive than any of them. Also, as compared to Princess Diana, I myself am not dead. I also know enough not to get in a car with a drunk driver in Paris, although Vegas is another story.
However, believe it or not, we do share a common plight: we are all hunted by paparazzi. Shameless bastards snapped this photo the other day: LINK TO PHOTO
Now, I don't much care whether the world sees my goods, since everyone needs inspiration and something to strive to emulate. But it's the principle of the thing: since these are MY goods, I get to call the shots.
Plus, the only reason I am targeted for such photographic torture is because of my innate awesomeness. It's not like I asked for this attention. Those others, they brought it on themselves.
But oh hey, speaking of bringing it on yourself? WTF, Mariah Carey!
You'll recall that I made it my personal crusade To Do Something About Mariah Carey, because this shit can't keep going on. It is demoralizing for the American people (the rest of the world thinks we're all whacked anyway and Mariah Carey is merely exemplary, so I'm not worried about them). So I took it upon myself and talked with her people, then I talked with my people, and then yeah, she got that role in Precious. Girl can sing and girl can act if she is deflated a bit, so to speak.
Well, never again will I lift a finger to help Mariah Carey. Because damn, Mimi can't let a good thing stand; she has to get right in there and mess it on up. She outdid herself with her drunken acceptance speech at the Palm Springs International Film Festival, where she was named Breakthrough Actress for that role I got her.
Check out the "WTF, bitch?" look on director Lee Daniels' face. That's some kind of Precious.
Now, far be it from me to criticize a sister for getting her party on, but dare I say that one must learn there's a time and a place for making a public spectacle of your damned self? Clearly Mimi skipped that class and took an extra course load of Divadom.
You make us want to look away, Mimi, let me tell you straight. The tight tasteless dresses we can forgive, because we like to point and laugh, and you like to display. But you need to shut your mouth, because when you open it up you're worse than most celebrity train wrecks, seeing as how you resemble nothing less than a tarted-up dirigible. And yeah, we all remember what happened to the Hindenburg.
So, in the face of such ingratitude and cluelessness, I give up. That's right, even I must admit failure in the case of Mariah Carey. There is nothing that can rehabilitate she who gave the world Glitter, because anyone who would name a movie after the herpes of craft supplies is simply beyond hopeless. (What? Demitri Martin knows about glitter. Once you have it you can never get rid of it, and it spreads like nobody's business down there in your business).
So while I can greatly rejoice for the latest success of my Campaign for Anatomical Correctness (that would be Delilah Noir, who comes equipped with a perfectly scaled vinyl vagina...or so I'm told by Ken), I must also despair in the face of things to come. Because I can see it now: the AG Mariah Carey Tribute doll.
Accessories sold separately.
It's a sad, sad day to see marketing standards sink to this level. Then again, Jiggy tells me that I'm not the target market for this doll and I have to trust him on that. But oh, I can just hear the calls to AG Customer Service:
"I am so unhappy! My Limited Edition Mariah Carey Tribute Doll won't stand on her own!"
And of course the standard scripted response will be "We strive for realism in our dolls and frankly, Mariah's too top-heavy and drunk to stand unassisted. These are display dolls, after all. You'll need to purchase the pink, glitter-encrusted doll stand for an additional $19.99 plus applicable shipping."
And then there will be fourteen simultaneous threads about it on Playthings. You mark my words.