Apparently Kim Kardashian is getting divorced after only having been married for 72 days to basketball player Kris Humphries. I just have one question, who the hell is Kim Kardashian?
No, I’m not that out of touch. I know that Kim Kardashian is one of several Kardashian sisters who appear on the reality television show “Keeping Up with the Kardashians.” From what I can tell, they each share two major talents which they display prominently between their navels and their shoulders. My real question is why does this family of no-talent air heads get their own television show?
Don’t think I’ve judge Ms. Kardashian too harshly. For one very minor second, I said to myself, “Maybe you’re being too hard on this girl. Maybe Kim Kardashian is a philanthropist who volunteers at the homeless shelter on weekends. Maybe she’s done some good in this world and deserves all of the attention she gets.” So I spent a few minutes researching her. (There’s fifteen minutes of my life I’ll never get back.)
Turns out, other than having sex, on tape, this girl has done nothing meaningful in anybody’s life. She shops. She slathers on her makeup. She wears trashy outfits. And she sells her soul for a moment in the spot light. In short, she’s a media whore.
Then there’s the “marriage.” What I learned in my research is that, instead of planning meaningful ceremony to celebrate the bonds of matrimony with her beloved, Kardashian sold the television rights to her wedding for several million dollars. She literally put her marriage on the auction block, and for some reason people are surprised that the relationship only lasted 72 days. I’m surpised it lasted 72 hours.
I understand that for many people reality TV is one of life’s guilty pleasures. It’s like chocolate ice cream with whipped topping, caramel syrup and a maraschino cherry on top. There’s absolutely no nutritional value but it tastes so good. Unfortunately if you eat this kind of garbage every day you’ll turn into a blob.
Comparing the Kardashian show to a calorie rich chocolate sundae, however, is very unfair to the sundae. In the brain obese world that is reality TV, the Kardashian experience is more like eating extra fat bacon, deep fried in lard, rolled in chocolate pudding, covered in powdered sugar and served with a side order of donuts. Your brain cells die just from knowing that such a thing exists. Yet, just like the unsupervised pre-teen who passes on the fresh apples and stuffs his face with fluffer-nutters when Mom isn’t looking, American’s love to gorge on this garbage hour after hour after hour.
It’s like every time you hear the word Kardashian, one of your brain’s nerve endings vomits out any useful information and then kills itself in protest. Medically speaking, I’m pretty sure this show is the leading cause of brain related maladies in this country.
I guess when it comes to reality TV, I’m out of touch. But I’m totally OK with that. That’s why I’m turning off the television right now and stuffing myself with Snickers instead. It’s much healthier.