Sad Little Doll
The extreme fame of this little Hilton creature fascinates me. She is so gorgeous and plastic and profoundly moronic it's actually kind of endearing; I cannot imagine inhabiting her life for even one minute. At least, unlike another pathologically famous blonde with the initials MM, Ms. Hilton seems to have a sense of humor and fun and irony about her, and so far she hasn't expressed any desire to be, gods forbid, "taken seriously." The world is consuming her and she's consuming right back. As despicable a spectacle as it can be, I'd rather that than watch her die of self-loathing and barbituates. Mark my words -- we're going to be seeing that mocking sneer for many years to come.
But I finally watched about 20 seconds of Paris Hilton's famous porn tape this evening and wanted to bang my head against my desk for despair. The girl has such a body and she doesn't know how to use it! She doesn't inhabit it! I thought about that wonderful scene in the movie "Antonia's Line," when all manner of real, extremely unplastic men and women are making love through a long Scandinavian night, and how much more spirit and delight and authenticity they shared, even as actors portraying real people having sex.
And I thought, Paris dear Paris... when they said that there are some things money can't buy, they must have had you in mind.