So Kathy Hilton, the creepy creature who spawned Paris, has slammed John McCain for his ad featuring her daughter, even though it might be the only film Paris has been in without an engorged organ dangling in her face.
Now, I might agree with mom that the ad was a little lame. But is it as lame as, say, forgetting you left a dog in a closet only to be reminded of it when you smell its rotting corpse under a pair of Juicy sweatpants?
Is it as lame as getting a DUI or driving with a suspended license or driving 70 in a 35 zone with your headlights off after dark?
Is it as lame as violating your probation, going to jail, then saying you were a changed person, when you're really as fatuous as ever?
Is it as lame as being in a sex video that looks more like lemur porn, than actual lemur porn?
Is it as lame as dating Nick Carter?
Is it as lame as wandering into a gazebo belonging to the dashing editor of Stuff Magazine whose name rhymes with Breg Butfeld and plopping yourself down next to him on a beach chair to have noisy sex with the drummer for a singer whose name might rhyme with Pavril Shravine?
Is it as lame as not asking said editor, who was very lonely, if he'd like to join in?
The only thing lamer than any of that is faking outrage when someone rags on your daughter. Instead, just be happy Paris is allowed to freely wander this nation. In a less forgiving country — you know, the kind John McCain is more than capable of tangling with — she'd be beheaded. Twice, just for kicks.
And if you disagree with me, then you sir are worse than Hitler.