Imagine a person who is starved for companionship, yet so bereft of social graces that she's unable to make meaningful acquaintances through traditional channels. In the throes of desperation, this tragicomic human repellent agrees to be the subject of a televised sweepstakes to find her "new BFF," with the competitors registering as even more pathetic, because they value reality-show "stardom" so highly that they're willing to feign affection for someone rightfully rejected by the rest of society. The person in question is Paris Hilton, which completely eliminates any sympathy that might have accumulated regarding the friendless loser's plight.
Paris Hilton's My New BFF premieres tonight on MTV. I mention this not to encourage anyone to watch it, but instead to invite readers to share my profound shame regarding humanity's latest low point. I briefly took comfort in the fact some deranged individual might be inspired to visit Paris' "dollhouse" with an explosive of their choice, but then I realized the show has already completed its run. Modern civilization might never again encounter such a high concentration of utter uselessness as when these sixteen vapid Barbies and two flamboyant Kens shared a room with Paris. The cast bios on the show's Web site contain such actionable phrases as "self-proclaimed diva," "considers himself the hottest gay guy around when he goes clubbing," and "considers herself an Internet celebrity." Noble bombers, please check future listings for a reunion special.
"Don't you get it? What we have to understand is it's them or us. It can't be all of us, or one. It's got to be us, or they become it. Then we lose what makes us we."
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