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11/23/25   
Eat shit and prosper

The Siege of Paris

by Red Bagel
bio/email
June 6, 2005
Everyone I know in the conspiracy community and the Niluminati were, of course, stunned by the big bomb drop this week. And you can hardly blame us, it has to be the news everybody has been wanting to hear for years. Paris Hilton marrying Paris ???? That's insanity. Two people with the same first name can't marry each other. That's the whole reason our country has stood fast against gay marriage for so long. The notion of a Steve marrying a Steve… brr! I'm chilled to the bone just thinking about it.

Imagine all the potential disasters that would happen in that household. A man calls there, asking for Paris, and the husband flips out, yelling and screaming and threatening violence, only to find out the caller was his best friend, Buddy. Plus, think about how gross it is to get out of the shower and use your wife, Paris', monogrammed towel. Dammit! If only the two of us didn't share the same name. What I'm mainly worried about, though, is the next time I download a bootleg video of Paris having sex with someone, it better be the female one. That's all I'm saying.

I can understand her wanting to settle down, though. Her movie career is finally starting to take off, what with that Carl Jr.'s commercial getting her such fantastic acting notice. She's apparently broken ties once and for all with that troublemaker Nicole Richie, and it's about time. I'm hoping she'll do the wise thing for the next season of The Simple Life, and get a reliable new influence like Kelly Clarkson to co-star. And, this is neither here nor there, but they should have to work in a Denny's all season. I have a hunch that would be classic TV in the making.

I have additional worries about Paris Hilton settling down once and for all, even though I think it might be in her best interest. I hope she doesn't balloon up like Elle MacPherson once she's married. A lot of super-models just let themselves go and lose their classic toothpick shape. But with a husband sharing the same name, plus him not being famous and multi-talented like her, that has to cause some torment, which always causes heavy drinking, which causes great preservation of eternal thinness. So that's working for her.

Interesting about this "Deep Throat" thing, too. Some people may have guessed Paris Hilton was actually Deep Throat, but that was another video entirely, rest assured. Plus, I don't think she knows anything about Washington politics, part of that younger generation that thinks politics are queer. I was surprised by Felt's admission, I had always suspected Linda Lovelace, Misty Sugar, or White House Counsel John Dean. Actually, I really wanted it to be Jimmy Dean, just for a real twist, but that wasn't too likely. I'm not sure how an actor and sausage magnate would be privilege to such information, but as I said, it was more a fantasy than anything else.

We in the conspiracy-cracking business owe a real debt to Mark Felt, not only for expanding our sexual consciousness, but for helping to bring down a president and making us feel, at last, like we could break some of these conspiracies, if we stayed on them long enough. I was a young cub reporter at the time, and I wish Felt had had enough confidence to come to me with the story, instead of Joanne Woodward and Leonard Bernstein. They should give him the biggest tribute of all, since bringing down the president helped launch Woodward's acting career, and Bernstein spent the rest of his life recording the tales of the Watergate conspiracy in his successful series of Bernstein Bears books. What I couldn't have done with such information.

Let's just say it would have been me in that Paris Hilton video then, not some jackass with a camera.


Quote of the Day
“My love is like a red, red wiiiine… go to my heaaaad… make me forgeeet… Wait. Sorry. My love is like a red, red rose… just like eeeeevery night has its daaaaaw- awawaaaan… Just like eeeevery cooowboy… Fuck.”

-A.D.Dobbs
Fortune 500 Cookie
Clowns don't hate you, they just feel sorry for you. Your "Don't Worry, Be Slappy" series of self-help books finally broke the five-copy sales barrier this week, and just got you sued by the estate of Slappy White. This week's lucky strikes: Clover-Workers' Union, ump didn't see ball careen off batter's jock and through strike zone, killed them all while they were dreaming about killing you, threw your ex-wife's severed head down lane on accident.


Try again later.
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