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Quote the Paris Hilton…(Apologies to Poe, by the by) June 24, 2006

Posted by doctorolove in Pop Culture Rants.

Once upon a Sunday boring, with the wind and rain outside pouring
Over many a trashy and lurid volume of tabloids galore
My mind, it started spinning, as I saw her grinning
Grinning in these pages, with bikini on and nothing more
“What is she wearing” the tabloids did implore
“From which overpriced swanky store?”

Ah, I am fond to reminisce, about a simpler time than this
When fame was given to those whose merits we did awe.
But now in all these mags, with their flowing Fendi bags,
I was forced to see these rags, who are little more than whores.
Attention starved waif thin money grubbing whores.

But there is a queen, a paparazzi machine
Half naked in the pages—wearing silk and nothing more.
Her expression looking vacant, her picture begs me “Take it”
Before I walk down this carpet to the e3 showroom floor.
A picture that will surely make you rich among the poor
But, can’t we see she’s a whore?

In the magazines and shows, in night vision her eyes did glow
Come on, she made a sex tape! But still we want some more!
She hawks to us a burger, a clothing line, a network server..
All the while we lap it up like dolphins on the shore
But just who is this beauty in which we all stand awed….
It’s just Paris…and she’s a whore.

She came upon the masses, behind oversized sunglasses
Daughter of the Hiltons, who we knew from days of yore
When the patriarch, dear Nicky, got a wee bit sticky
And married Lizzie Taylor after a whirlwind tour
The Hilton family learned a fact that remains core
The paparazzi loves you..when you’re a whore.

At first she was just posing, walking carpets red, foreboding
Standing for a few seconds while flashbulbs kept the score
But Paris, she was growing; her dominance was showing
And she set about to make herself famous, nothing more
And what persona would she undertake for this worldwide tour?
She remembered…”Be a whore!”

So she started ventures, sold crap to men in dentures
Who immediately bought her as a pre-packaged whore
But her picture was everywhere…And we as a people cared.
Even though we couldn’t name a single thing she’d done before.
She was just a pretty face and nothing more
Then we remembered…”She’s a whore.”

So she started dating jocks, Greek guys who sold socks
Fox TV came along with an idea for her in store
We’ll take you and Nicole..Just like you, a vapid hole
And send you across our great country on a massive tour!
To show what it’s like when rich girls turn, well, poor.
And Paris jumped…”such a whore!”

And the public stood there staring…at this TV show, so daring
Showing what it’s like when the stupid meet the poor
We bought it hook and sinker..No way this show’s a stinker
But then out came the tape of her, writhing on the floor
In the green night vision with her boyfriend on the floor
Uh-oh, Fox said…She’s a whore.

But the media just smiled, Because all the while
The public knew what kind of treasures she had in store
The ratings, they exploded…The brou-ha-ha eroded
And for just a few more pennies than a rotten apple core
You could buy the tape of Paris, writhing on the floor
Oh, that Paris…”She’s a whore!!”

Now she’s got her pretty mug, her and that unsightly pug
She carries like an oaken jug, in her purses all galore
In every single section of all societal discretion
From perfume, books and nightclubs…to her own lingerie store
Where people can dress like her, provided they’re not poor
Look like Paris…”She’s a whore!”

Have we as a people, with our minds all weak and feeble
Been perpetrated an evil like none has been before?
Here we stand here giggling, At this girl who is just wiggling
Showing off everything we’ve already seen before?
I mean can we possibly see more?
But there’s still Paris…still a whore.

This pain it will not end, till this nation, my good friend,
Controls the things we spend, and not on looking like a whore.
Because as long as we keep buying, the photogs will keep spying
Trying, my friend, trying to get a shot outside her door
As she reaches for her morning paper and nothing more.
Probably, in the morning, still dressed like a whore.

So as I close US Weekly, mind you very meekly
I am forced to sit here weakly, surrounded on the floor
By this cold hard junk, that we as a country have been punk’d
And my heart just sunk, as I thought one thing more
That we as country are just a mindless bore
And in the end..we’re the whores



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