Another year is drawing to a close, and you know what that means! That's right, we're one year closer to 2012, when all of the world's nuclear missiles will launch and reduce the planet to fiery rubble, then aliens will come and vaporize the rubble, then Satan and his dark minions will rise and bring about the apocalypse, which will reduce the vaporized rubble into particles so small that you'd have to squint just to think about them. Or at least, so I am led to believe by the dedicated legions of babbling lunatics with websites out there. It also means that it's time to start thinking about New Year's resolutions. I, for one, am resolving to give up cigarettes, a task which should be should be made significantly easier by the fact that I don't smoke. However, this New Year's, I don't think we should waste time focusing on me. After all, I'm not the one who needs changing. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but there are a whole lot of things that need to be changed in the world before we start worrying about me. There isn't much in my life that can be drastically improved through any sort of change on my part. But there are things that some of you out there can change to make my life better.
You too can weigh just forty pounds on the Hilton diet! Careful, that wristband might slow you down.
For instance, the hordes of you who send me spam messages on a daily basis, you could resolve to cut that out without fear of me getting cross. I get between one hundred fifty and two hundred spam messages a day. It's even higher on the days when my email address is available right at the top of the page, like it is today. Now, I realize that having my email address posted for all to see on the front page of a popular website is just asking for spam. I mean, if you're trying to make a buck or two by selling email addresses, you're not going to go to any great lengths to find those addresses when there's one just sitting out in plain view. So it's no surprise I get my fair share of spam. I'm sure Lowtax has it much worse than I do, a fact which can only be compounded by the following: email@example.com firstname.lastname@example.org email@example.com firstname.lastname@example.org. It would be nice to be able to go away for a few days and not come back to over a thousand spam messages telling me how I need a bigger penis or my mortgage rates could be better or how I can purchase this one-of-a-kind banned CD that eighty people a day want to sell me. But I'm realistic. No amount of New Year's resolutions will do away with all the spam I receive every day, but if just one person could do her tiny part to make a difference, it would be greatly appreciated. So I'm asking you, Paris Hilton, to kindly resolve to keep your damn clothes on for the rest of your natural born life.
For those of you who have been living in a cave for the last couple months, and have been doing something in that cave other than watching cheap porn, Paris Hilton is the heiress to the Hilton hotel fortune who videotaped herself having sex with Shannon Doherty's ex-husband. The tape got out, and now there are hordes of greedy idiots out there hoping this will be the next Pam and Tommy Lee home movie extravaganza. To that end, they are trying to hock copies of this tape to everyone they can as much as they can. I'd hazard a guess and say that the amount of spam I receive on a given day could be reduced by as much as fifteen percent if all of the Paris Hilton-related material was cut out. Now, I don't particularly object to being bombarded with ads for this shitty little home movie because it's pornographic. I get so much porno spam in my inbox each day, I'm beginning to wonder how the human race ever survived without a hearty dose of gaping vaginas delivered right to their computers without even asking for it. No, my objection to having ads for this tape forced upon me in such great quantities is that no one in their right mind would ever - ever - actually want to see it. I know. I have.
I think she may be the world's first candidate for eyeball reduction surgery.
Yes, thanks to the wonders of a college network, I was able to take a look at the infamous Paris Hilton sex tape without paying the low, low cost of $19.95 for instant access. It's hideous. Really, everything about it is absolutely atrocious. The sex isn't sexy, the tape is just a home camcorder set on night shot, so Paris and her man of the hour look like photo negatives, which, as we all know, is just incredibly attractive. I worked in a store specializing in pornographic videos. I've seen some low-quality stuff, and I've seen some stuff with repulsive people. But for the love of Adulteros, Greek god of smut, at least that stuff is professionally produced. If nothing else, there are different camera angles, semi-proper lighting, and some attempts at editing. The Paris Hilton tape doesn't even have that to fall back on. Home movies of people having sex are typically, by which I mean always, sexy only to the people who made the damn tape. It's absolutely beyond me why anyone would want to watch this, other than to figure out why anyone would want to watch this.
I understand the celebrity factor. It's fun to watch how famous people act when they don't think anyone else is watching. It's fun to watch the people we idolize at their most human. That's why everyone went nuts for the Pam and Tommy tape. Those were two famous people getting their groove on. Plus, Pam Anderson is incredibly hot. Or if women aren't your thing, there is Tommy Lee, who isn't a particularly handsome man, but he can steer a boat with his cock, so he's got something going for him. So that tape had two famous people who are also highly attractive having sex, so you could forgive the fact that it was a home movie to some extent. But the Paris Hilton tape doesn't have any of that going for it. Who the fuck is Paris Hilton? All she is is a rich daughter of a guy I also haven't heard of. That's not to say she doesn't have some merit on her own. I mean, she was credited as a Female Club-Goer in the immensely successful film adaptation of "The Cat in the Hat." She's a celebrity alright. Come on, people. She's not famous, she's rich. That's not the same thing. No one cares about rich people having sex. When and if Bill Gates gets laid, I don't want a tape of it. Why would you want a tape of some rich person doing the nasty? What, do you think you're somehow going to be able to use a copy of this tape that everyone has to blackmail Paris Hilton for millions of dollars someday? Or perhaps you're gunning after Shannon Doherty's ex-husband's vast fortune? The allure just isn't there for this tape.
Oh, what's the matter, sweetie? The new lips daddy bought you aren't attracting any rich old men?
To make matters worse, Paris Hilton is not attractive. She's a little better now, but when she was nineteen and she made this video, she was nothing special to look at, much in the way that beef wellington is nothing special to look at. She's just a scrawny, ugly little girl with a bad ass. And I mean that last part. She's got a bad ass. That's actually tough to come by. A lot of girls have nice asses, especially at nineteen. And the ones that don't usually have okay asses. But the two extremes of the ass scale, by which I mean great asses and bad asses, are probably equally rare. So Paris Hilton's bad ass is actually quite an anomaly. However, if she had a tumor the size and shape of a lava lamp sticking out of her spine, that would also be an anomaly, but it wouldn't make me want to watch this tape. The lady is just plain not attractive. Of course, it doesn't help that she's drugged out of her skull during the video. I can't tell precisely what she's on, but between the loopy way she acts and the fact that her pupils are large enough to put anime girls to shame, I'd say it's a hearty dose of painkillers. In any case, the night shot effect on the camera not only makes her skin look green, but it also makes her giant freak-pupils shine like a couple of nickels in a spotlight. She looks like an alien, only she's the one getting the rectal probe. Yes, I realize that Paris used to be a model, but let's be honest, Louie Anderson could be the Victoria's Secret cover girl if his father had a gazillion bucks in hotel money to throw around, too.
Look at this guy. He can barely force enough of a smile to make it look like he actually enjoys touching her. Hell, even her shirt's running away from her.
If you are still desperate enough to watch the Paris Hilton sex tape despite all of the painfully obvious reasons not to and the abundance of readily available free porn of much higher quality on the internet, you're going to be sorely disappointed. Worst of all, you're going to disappoint your penis. There's nothing worse that you can do to damage penile-brain relations than getting Mr. Happy ready to enjoy some smut, then letting him down by feeding him this kind of totally unsexy crap. The sex between Paris and What's-His-Face is pedestrian, at best. Again, this is a home movie. The sex contained therein will only be sexy to the people who are in it. They made this for their own purposes. They're not trying to get you off, they're trying, and apparently failing to get each other off. This is not good sex, people. I mean, Paris answers her goddamn phone! Seriously, the guy spends like two minutes getting her in position so he use his flesh scalpel to give her an emergency tracheotomy (of the vagina) from behind, when her cell phone rings. After all that, and knowing full well that they are video taping their sex, Paris doesn't even hesitate to scramble across the bed to answer it, leaving the guy frustrated and bootyless. Answering your phone during sex is wrong. Answering your phone while taping your sex is fucking criminal. Jacking off to some ugly, no-name, doped-up mule answering her phone during badly taped sex is so desperate, I doubt there's even a fetish site devoted to it. Although I could be wrong on that last point.
The Paris Hilton tape is out. There's nothing that can be done now to take that back. All I can hope for is that Paris Hilton will have the decency to keep her clothes on from here on out. So I beg of you Paris - not Paris, the spoiled daddy's girl, but Paris the warm, caring, down to earth human being who has been quoted as saying "I went to Wal-Mart for the first time. I always thought they sold wallpaper. I didn't realize it has everything. You can get anything you want there for really, really cheap" - please, as you're getting fired from your next ridiculously easy entry-level job that any high school dropout could handle on The Simple Life, think of the rest of us. When you make your New Year's resolution, please make a pledge that whenever a camera is pointed in your general direction, you will be fully clothed. Hopefully this will spare the rest of us any more needless agony. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some spam to delete.
The Web Doesn't Stop For The Weekend
Hello friends, Zachary "Spokker Jones" Gutierrez here. The New Year is almost upon us and what better way to celebrate it's almost arrival than by almost enjoying a brand new instalment of Weekend Web. There are a lot of better ways to be honest but I'm hoping none of you know what those things are. Who am I kidding? Lepers being chased by dinosaurs with shotguns have more fun than anybody who reads this shit.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.