My Postmodern Porno Princess
I was "surfing the internet" yesterday when I came across a wonderful picture of Paris Hilton standing at some sort of outdoor shop buying a porno.
Yawn. Paris Hilton. Surfing the internet. Get over yourself. Is there any subject matter as utterly exhausted in blogs as Paris Hilton? And I'm guessing this in some way relates to her now infamous nightvision sex romp with Rick Solomon?
Yes. Its true. This post deals with Paris and her porno tape. But wait....please.....hear me out. This is bigger than Paris. This is bigger than her cellphone going off in one of the most marvelous exhibitions of coitus interruptus ever captured. This is almost as big as Rick Solomon's endowment.
This is a story about how i fell BACK in love with Paris Hilton.
Who can forget those heady days of a bleary eyed Paris getting trashed with little Leo DiCaprio and a peckerheaded Eddie Furlong? Not me, and while subsequent years of Paris saturation through all media fronts may have somewhat diminished the initial intrigue of witnessing a multimillion dollar heiress stumble like a broken homecoming queen out of clubs while still maintaining an aura of glamour, I remained a Paris fan.
Even when (okay especially when) the Paris and Rick tape clogged search engines worldwide, I remained a fan. I even named my fantasy basketball name ParisHiltonSteadicam the day the footage first leaked to the internet (we deal with a 20 character limit when naming teams, people. It constrains creativity and renders spaces between words gaudy and excessive).
Even when she dated Damian's lookalike from Sum 41 I remained a Paris fan.
Until I saw the Simple Life.
Why did you have to ruin all those beautiful years by opening your mouth and speaking, Paris? Why?????
Grappling with the sheer absurdity of the "character" of Paris Hilton for the first time as she careened and cavorted with a much less attractive Paris doppelganger (Nicole Ritchie), my interest in all things Paris suddenly cooled. The show sucked. Then the Simple Life 2 came on and sucked even harder.
Paris was dead to me.....
And then yesterday I saw a picture that changed everything.
There she was, all Von Dutch and Tinkerbell, fake tan and bottle blonde as ever and yet something was different. Was that a....could it be that......YES!
SHE WAS HOLDING A RETAIL COPY OF THE PORN SHE STARRED IN!
Suddenly my world changed. I became dizzy. I drank a glass of water. I may have scratched myself, I'm not quite sure.
Here was Paris purchasing the mass-produced and slickly packaged byproduct of a drunken romp she participated in roughly five years ago. Here was a gleaming and unparalleled example of self-reflexivity and postmodern action in society! Here were the wheels of capitalism and free enterprise taken to the gaudiest of extremes and consummated through a 35 dollar purchase (most likely on daddy's Amex Black).
My inner geek shrieked with glee. It should be noted that no intellectual theory has captured my interest and attention the way postmodernism has. Unfortunately, no intellectual theory had ever really captured my attention prior to this.
Indeed, one special day of boomers in Providence in the winter of 2002 was not spent frolicking in fields but rather in a heated discussion with Damian over the consequences of the label of postmodernism upon our generation's own perception of its surroundings. Oh yeah, and that ugly building in downtown Provy also looked like a stack of Cracklin' Oat Bran that day.
Likewise, my first trip to Vegas witnessed a very drunk Kevin and myself identifying Las Vegas's primary virtue in the fact that it comprised the first truly postmodern city in our society.
I feel my fascination with postmodernism lies in the fact that it truly is a tangible concept experienced every single day by every one of us in all of our interactions. As Adrian maintains, our generation is unable to relate to each other most times on any level other than by resorting to our hardwired kneejerk tendency to spit back and forth the shared cipher and lexicon of common phrases and quotes from our favorite tv shows and movies.
That being the case, for better or worse, I am hyperaware of postmodernism around me. Wait, is the fact that I'm hyperaware postmodern too? Or is that Postpostmodern? Or something else? My head will explode soon.
All i do know is that the new visual representation of my favorite inellectual theory is comprised of Paris Hilton clutching her own porno, and for that I love her all over again.
Yawn. Paris Hilton. Surfing the internet. Get over yourself. Is there any subject matter as utterly exhausted in blogs as Paris Hilton? And I'm guessing this in some way relates to her now infamous nightvision sex romp with Rick Solomon?
Yes. Its true. This post deals with Paris and her porno tape. But wait....please.....hear me out. This is bigger than Paris. This is bigger than her cellphone going off in one of the most marvelous exhibitions of coitus interruptus ever captured. This is almost as big as Rick Solomon's endowment.
This is a story about how i fell BACK in love with Paris Hilton.
Who can forget those heady days of a bleary eyed Paris getting trashed with little Leo DiCaprio and a peckerheaded Eddie Furlong? Not me, and while subsequent years of Paris saturation through all media fronts may have somewhat diminished the initial intrigue of witnessing a multimillion dollar heiress stumble like a broken homecoming queen out of clubs while still maintaining an aura of glamour, I remained a Paris fan.
Even when (okay especially when) the Paris and Rick tape clogged search engines worldwide, I remained a fan. I even named my fantasy basketball name ParisHiltonSteadicam the day the footage first leaked to the internet (we deal with a 20 character limit when naming teams, people. It constrains creativity and renders spaces between words gaudy and excessive).
Even when she dated Damian's lookalike from Sum 41 I remained a Paris fan.
Until I saw the Simple Life.
Why did you have to ruin all those beautiful years by opening your mouth and speaking, Paris? Why?????
Grappling with the sheer absurdity of the "character" of Paris Hilton for the first time as she careened and cavorted with a much less attractive Paris doppelganger (Nicole Ritchie), my interest in all things Paris suddenly cooled. The show sucked. Then the Simple Life 2 came on and sucked even harder.
Paris was dead to me.....
And then yesterday I saw a picture that changed everything.
There she was, all Von Dutch and Tinkerbell, fake tan and bottle blonde as ever and yet something was different. Was that a....could it be that......YES!
SHE WAS HOLDING A RETAIL COPY OF THE PORN SHE STARRED IN!
Suddenly my world changed. I became dizzy. I drank a glass of water. I may have scratched myself, I'm not quite sure.
Here was Paris purchasing the mass-produced and slickly packaged byproduct of a drunken romp she participated in roughly five years ago. Here was a gleaming and unparalleled example of self-reflexivity and postmodern action in society! Here were the wheels of capitalism and free enterprise taken to the gaudiest of extremes and consummated through a 35 dollar purchase (most likely on daddy's Amex Black).
My inner geek shrieked with glee. It should be noted that no intellectual theory has captured my interest and attention the way postmodernism has. Unfortunately, no intellectual theory had ever really captured my attention prior to this.
Indeed, one special day of boomers in Providence in the winter of 2002 was not spent frolicking in fields but rather in a heated discussion with Damian over the consequences of the label of postmodernism upon our generation's own perception of its surroundings. Oh yeah, and that ugly building in downtown Provy also looked like a stack of Cracklin' Oat Bran that day.
Likewise, my first trip to Vegas witnessed a very drunk Kevin and myself identifying Las Vegas's primary virtue in the fact that it comprised the first truly postmodern city in our society.
I feel my fascination with postmodernism lies in the fact that it truly is a tangible concept experienced every single day by every one of us in all of our interactions. As Adrian maintains, our generation is unable to relate to each other most times on any level other than by resorting to our hardwired kneejerk tendency to spit back and forth the shared cipher and lexicon of common phrases and quotes from our favorite tv shows and movies.
That being the case, for better or worse, I am hyperaware of postmodernism around me. Wait, is the fact that I'm hyperaware postmodern too? Or is that Postpostmodern? Or something else? My head will explode soon.
All i do know is that the new visual representation of my favorite inellectual theory is comprised of Paris Hilton clutching her own porno, and for that I love her all over again.
1 Comments:
I just read that first sentence back and it made it sound like I was trolling for porn on the web. Patently untrue. If you know me, you know that I dont look at internet porn for my yah yahs. That shit be too easy. Instead I suffer and die a little each day.
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