Apparently jealous that her BFF Paris spent most of the last few months flashing vag with Britney Spears (quick digression: how has she not checked into rehab yet? Seriously, that’s just PR 101 for these quarter life crisis party binges. She can just check in with Lindsay!), Kim Kardashian has decided to attempt to propel herself into the upper D-list with a sex tape, featuring none other than Ray-J, brother to Brandy. So, let’s all just go ahead and make this the soundtrack as you read the rest of this post.
According to TMZ, Kim has been offered $2 million dollars for the rights to this tape, which happens to feature some manner of golden shower situation, which, admittedly, is a step up in terms of commitment to the sex tape game. That said, between this and the Screech Dirty Sanchez thing, if bodily fluids are the new sex tape trend, I will have to quit celebrity gossip as a business, because I can’t.
Seriously, this is just embarrassing, and if I already didn’t hate Paris Hilton as much as is physically possible, I’d hate her even more for this dipshit trend of pathetic sadsackery. I don’t understand why I have to be the one to explain this to these people, but that Paris thing? It was a fluke. The “sex tape launching a non-noteworthy person into the stratosphere of fame” was clearly a one-time thing. For everyone else, it’s a minor blip on a slow TMZ news day, then fades like Donald Trump’s hair does into his face flesh, if for no other reason than at some point we as a nation must say no. If the Paris incident has taught us anything, it’s how this shit goes—now we’ve smartened up; we’re onto the game. Burn me once with your night visioned genitals, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me.
So enjoy your precious minutes, Kim. See you in “The Surreal Life” house.