So Kim Kardashian made the cover of Vogue

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I feel sick and frivolous for even having an opinion, but before I voice it, let me first ask: Who the hell IS Kim Kardashian? Please. Someone. What does she do exactly, besides feed the ego of Kanye West (a.k.a the Spoiled Sociopath of Hip-Hop)?

Has anybody ever watched the Japanese anime movie Akira, where the biker punk becomes so inflamed with himself that he starts mutating into this repulsive monster and swallows everything up in this grotesque pulpy body of mangled flesh?

I think the metaphor is very appropriate for Kanye, for the pun that is Kim Kardashian’s career, and for their strategic celebrity marriage.

The fact that these two have produced an heir named North West adds an element of fear to my growing disgust. These people are capable of reproducing. Of multiplying. Of being named North West. (Is their kid named after a winter-wear line or something? Poor bastard. These people will commercialize anything!)

Anyway, so back to the mystifying paradox of Kim Kardashian’s “career.”

The buzz about her now (before this it was reality television and upscale prostitution, right?) is that she landed on the cover of Vogue Magazine.

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You know the woman is a complete trollop in her own right if the people within the celebrity-media-fashion communities can’t even tolerate her gracing their publications.

I stripped off a piece of my soul (meaning I reluctantly sat through Vogue’s short video of the cover-shoot) and also read that Sarah Michelle Gellar tweeted something about cancelling her subscription to Vogue.

Yet still completely perplexed, I began to type into Google “Why is Kim Kardashian Famous?” Before I could type the word “famous,” these options came up for me as well:

“Why is Kim Kardashian a Hobbit?”

“Why is Kim Kardashian never with her baby?”“Why is Kim Kardashian’s bum so big?”

While I was somewhat intrigued about the connection between J.R.R. Tolkien and the Kardashian woman, I still wanted to get to the bottom of this person’s dragging fifteen minutes of fame.

According to Wet Paint (in an article entitled “Sure, She’s Beautiful but Why is Kim Kardashian Famous?”) it all began with a sex tape.

OF COURSE.

That is just the Hollywood way, isn’t it? I don’t need to read a word more. In fact, I should have just assumed the obvious.

God, get me a handheld and a VHS. I want to be a billionaire too!

When actors, models and designers who bust their balls over their craft see this 3-ring circus celebrity shit storm spray itself all over the cover of Vogue Magazine in a tragic display of farce and self-indulgence, of course it’s disappointing. Of course people want to cancel their subscriptions.

Mainstream media is already a shit-flinging battleground of hashtags, fat Americans, oxymoronic reality television, downright fallacy and ultimate soul-starvation.

Why shit where you eat? Why prolong the proverbial root canal that is the Kim Kardashian industry? Why contribute to the wank-fest that is Kanye West’s “music” career? Why do humans have such a sick black-hole attraction to this sort of stuff? We might as well go back to the coliseum and watch tigers rip apart Christians.

You know what? If anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting with my head in the sand, alone on a desert island.

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