Kim Kardashian and the Other Hollywood Marriages That Hock Peanut Butter Loogies on the Idea of Your "Sacred Institution"
Yesterday, after about two months, love died. RIP.
I honestly think it’s super cute people are reflexively asking “why?” Because bitch got paid, you guys. Almost $20 million for a giant publicity factory of a wedding that they didn’t have to pay one cent for. The Kardashians are whores, through and through, and I mean that in the purest sense of the word. They are products, a brand. They are not human beings. They sold that away. And it would be neat if this calculated act backfired on them and became their undoing, but for that to happen, they would need smarter fans. And they don’t have them.
Look, if I’m the one breaking the news that the Kardashians are faker than the extensions, Restylane and spray tans clamped to their gaping maws, then I may also be the one breaking the news that you’re really fucking stupid. And I’m so sorry to have to do that. Really. It just feels mean. Someone should have told you sooner. You deserve better. Stupid are people, too. Here’s some paper. Go color.
Sadly, Kim’s is not the only marriage to spit in the face of nationwide gay marriage. Every website on the planet today has a list of the shortest marriages in Hollywood. Some (I’m talking to you Carmen Electra and Dennis Rodman) were obviously for attention. Others are just indicative that the parties involved were dumber than a Kardashian fan, or maybe just kind of sadly naive. Probably both.
And, no, I, unlike every other giggling blog, am not including Britney’s 50 hour cry for help in Vegas in this discussion. Do you know me at all?
Now, in this time of reality TV and completely transparent, over-the-top PR moves, marriage is just as much a commodity as anything else. Shoe lines, weddings, babies, handbags, they’re all the same. Do you know how many people watched that god-forsaken wedding? 10.5 million people. And it would have been more had the family not sold the pictures to every magazine and website that would give them a dollar.
I want to blame someone so bad. But I really don’t know who or how, and it won’t matter. In the absence of anyone else, I choose to blame these two.
Fuck you, Darva Conger and Rick Rockwell.