A fine line between playful and brain-dead

I think we all know that I don't mind showing a little bit of Ye Olde Cheesecake in this here blog. (Don't worry, girls - this coming Casually Exasperating Friday (otherwise known as Valentine's Day) I WILL have something for you. (Fair's fair, after all.)

Today, however, I was casually surfing Ye Olde Net when I happened to cross-reference The Hills. For those of you fortunate enough to actually have bailed out from the zombie-infested cruise ship we know as MTV after they gave Daria the heave-ho (although if you ask me, there's a lot of actual 'ho's from the network that not only give you the dry heaves, but should have been given a heave - or a nice shove - out a wonderfully high window somewhere), The Hills is the spin-off from yet another MTV gem that renders the concept of ipecac moot in intelligent persons (Laguna Beach).

Enough said on description. Yes, there are pretty girls on the show, but to paraphrase William W. Johnstone, there are pretty girls everywhere you go. These girls, however, perpetuate the notion that you can be an attractive, petty, scandalous and vapid young woman (not to mention the guys) with the depth of an emery board and yet, be rewarded handsomely for it!

I bring this up because as I was cruising, I found an article that said that one of the girls - Heidi Montag - was going to be offered a cool million to drop trou for Playboy. I laughed.

To understand the ture depths of my mirth, go to YouTube and type in her name, or go looking around for her song. Turn down the volume so you can't hear a thing, and watch her frolic about on the beach for as long as you can stand it. Then, go back to the beginning and actually try and listen to the song.

Here's a warning, though; she makes Paris Hilton look like a possible Grammy contender.

Now, why am I dishing on her? Two reasons - the first of which is part of this page of The Superficial website:




Anyway, everybody's favorite plastic surgery role model Heidi Montag was spotted frolicking on the beach yesterday wearing a pink bikini and carrying around a red life preserver. What an accomplished life. When she's 60 and looking back on her life she'll be able to say she inspired a nation of girls to get breast implants and run on the beach. Somebody should get started on her biography now. It's such a moving story of determination and the human spirit. She makes that Rosa Parks character look like a total douche.



Damn. Anyway, there's cheesecake of somebody who actually has some measure of talent, nomatter how small, and is actually working and trying to improve themselves and their craft, (Snark as you will - Jessica Alba has some small skills... and a natural rack... and I do like her smile...) and there's spreading more images of a vapid child who's worth about half as much as a night's dinner, drinks and dancing with that hot Emperor penguin from Craft Services who always saves you a couple of extra giant blueberry muffins because she knows that you like them so much.

Sorry. Psychic bleedover from PPMB. Back on track. I'm not posting photos of her because that's all she's about - being yet the latest in a never-ending string of penny-a-dozen, here-today-gone-by-five starlets and wannabes that are the dead-on inspiration for Bowling For Soup's OUCH! that hurts because it's REAL! ditty 1985. Why the hell should I help her by posting photos of her?

Of course, there the naysayers who go, 'But - by even mentioning her, you'd giving her what she wants!'

A story from the past. Back when I was working in local TV production, I was sitting in the edit bay in the studio when Patrick (a foul little being I'll certainly talk more about some other day)walks in, wearing his gi, and stops in fromt of the door as if to announce his presence. (That's the outfit that people in the martial arts practice in. It's important - I know most of you know that already - but I had to specify that for the laughs.) See, he was teaching a martial arts class in a nearby park, and had just come in from that class, wearing his gi and carrying himself all puffed and proud, with the dirt and grass and blood stains on it - a warrior coming in from baattle, so to speak.

I took a look at him, and turned back to the editing machines.

I turned back, looked at him again, and then (I swear to God I didn't mean to do this!) I burst out laughing. I mean, REAL Laughter, the kind you get when you hear an old Robin Williams comedy skit from the '80's . The way you laugh when you hear Sam Kinison at the beginning of his short career, when you watch the GOOD Mel Brooks films (like Young Frankenstien or Blazing Saddles), or watch Richard Pryor - Live On The Sunset Strip. That kind of laughter that just comes from within your soul, when you know you should be ashamed of laughing, but damn it, it's just so funny-!

Patrick's face fell. Without a word, he walked off to the restroom, aand came back several minutes later in street clothes. He NEVER wore his gi around me again.

Moral of the story? I'm not telling you about Heidi Montag so you can go and ogle her, and drool over her, and say, 'Man, she's hot' (if that's what you're into). I'm telling you so that you may go forth and - as she attempts to make her way in ths business that we call show - you may laugh... and mock... and make fun of.

Look on the bright side, though! In between three to seven years, some righ guy with cash is going to get an excellent seat cover for his flashy car, she'll get a sugar daddy and off our collective celebrity radar and TV screen, and somewhere down the road, there'll be a couple of kids that are going to be kind of attractive because of Mom's decent genetics. Maybe not too much in the attic, but then again - that's what school is for. Along those lines - you ever get the feeling that the events of Lean On Me, and 'Crazy' Joe Cark, would have been better served if all had taken place in the school where the Laguna Beach kids attended (or should we say 'infested'?)

Oh, yes. The vapid child gets ten to twenty-five stacks per episode. Feel sorry for her. Feel tres sorry for her.

Yeah, right. Prepare to go to 105% on the snark reactor!