June 01, 2005

Kathleen Parker Talks Trash...Paris Hilton, That Is

Today, Kathleen Parker's Town Hall column focuses on the woman many of us have come to know and despise: Paris Hilton.

I haven't quite put my finger on the moment when Paris Hilton became a household word - whether it was her 2003 TV reality series, "The Simple Life," in which she and co-star Nicole Richie (daughter of Lionel) made fun of the rural poor by dressing down to "play" farm. Or whether it was her debut on the World Wide Web as the star of a home video in which she and her then-boyfriend, shall we say, share their love.

Yes, isn't it fun to make fun of hard working yokel types? I suppose, though, that she knows a bit about hard work, considering the bad publicity she had to fend off after her video debut.

Parker wishes for the good old days:

As long as we're feeling nostalgic, remember when a tramp was a tramp? In these liberated times, there's no such thing. Yesterday's trash is today's socialite, a jet-setting culture creature who just wants to have a little fun. What's so wrong with that?

She continues:

Moral relativity makes explanation nearly impossible. Instead, we resort to a few simpler truths: sex sells, money doesn't equate to class, and - while we're wallowing in cliches - the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Because apparently, Paris' mother Kathy will be starring in a show called "I Want to Be a Hilton," where contestants vying for a year in high-society Manhattan and a $200,000 trust fund learn about fashion, etiquette and media wrangling. (The show is being produced by Paris' dad Rick.) It must be hard for Kathy, a former child television star, to see Paris getting all of the attention, so she is now cashing in on her daughter's infamy.

Will Paris make a special guest appearance to show how to best coordinate one's navel ring with the rest of her glitzy accessories, including her new fiancee, shipping heir Paris Latsis? (Paris and Paris...how revolting. I give the marriage two years, tops. Dumb-as-a-post Britney Spears' marriage to sleazy Kevin Federline may last longer.)

Ah, Paris...when will your blasted 15 minutes finally end? When will it be safe to watch television or open a magazine or newspaper without seeing your bronzed skin and hair extensions? When will you become so desperate for a bit of press that you (allegedly) grope a stranger in public like Christian Slater?

Not soon enough for me.

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