Last Tango In Paris....Until The Next One

Once again, I really don't give two shits about Miss Thang her own bad self, whether she comes, stays, lays, or plays. It doesn't matter to me whether she's really found God, or is simply confessing her neuroses to an imaginary mouse in the corner of her dank cell. I reserve my naïveté and sense of wonder for the cretins who have nothing better to do than, um, lend their support.



I apologize if you were eating, or even considering eating. And I hope that's not a load-bearing wall Rerun's leaning up against. Photo courtesy of What Would Tyler Durden Do? It's been a while since I've seen Fight Club, but "Because fuck them, that's why" sounds just about right, and it certainly doesn't just apply to people who are famous for being well-known.

[Update: One barometer of how diseased the media climate is these days is that Hilton and O.J. Simpson, ferchrissake, can credibly point the finger. The only question anymore is how much of this is market-driven, and how much is simply institutional laziness bordering on culpability.]