There's a new porn video coming out, and for the first time in my life, I'm tempted to go out and buy it. Fuck Jenna Jameson: this is Paris Hilton.
Now, I will admit that Paris Hilton is, all things considered, not that special. In fact, with about five minutes of searching through the spam sent to me every day, I could probably find naked pictures of a hundred girls as good-looking, or even better-looking, than Paris Hilton. But I'm obsessed with seeing this new video, in which a 19-year-old Paris reportedly strikes porn-star style poses while dancing the horizontal dance of love with ex-beau Rick Solomon. I guess it all comes down to my new motto. Aerosmith exhorted us all to, "Eat the Rich." Me, I just want to eat out the rich.
That's right. I want to be a kept man with a sugar momma. And why not? I want to be a writer, and God knows, there's no money in that. Hell, I'll probably be the one who will work for food, coming up with witty variations on the standard "will work for food" signs for my fellow homeless. "Will exchange my labor power for your comestibles," anyone?
I've given some thought to how this will work. I need someone with inherited wealth, and enough of it so they don't really feel like they're worthless human beings for living off their trust fund. I figure a couple generations of wealth, at least, will be enough to weed out any impulse towards self-sufficiency.
I want someone dumb, someone who will have to depend on what little intelligence I have so that I can push them around. I do apologize, but Ivanka, due to your intelligent comments in Jamie Johnson's HBO documentary Born Rich you've been cut off the list. You can still call me if you want, and I suppose we can be fuck buddies, but it can't really go any farther than that.
And I don't want anyone too wild, who needs to go out clubbing every night and be in the Society page of the New York Times every day. I realize this takes Paris out of the running, but I'll never be a celebrity big enough for her, and I wouldn't want to always worry that she might dump me for Ben Affleck. I mean, we can give it a try, but I think it would probably just flame out after a year in a blaze of tabloid glory when Paris and I go m‚nage with her sister Nikki, leaving me to sell the Bentley she bought me for rent money.
No, the girl for me is Jamie Gleicher, co-star of MTV's Rich Girls. I think I could push her around, and it seems like she has plenty of cash to spare. Plus, on cold nights I could nestle in her rolls for warmth. Sure, she's annoying, but I figure I can just have my eardrums removed. If Beethoven made deafness work for him, I can sure as hell make it work for me.
