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Adapting Paris Hilton for the big
screen
Tuesday - December 27, 2005
Ah, the wonderful
fodder the internet churns up to inspire me with. I was surfing
around yesterday, researching "year's bests'" lists when I came
across the top 100 most downloaded files of the year. We all
remember the Paris Hilton sex video in 2003 that "found" its
way onto the internet, affirming every pretense we had of the
air-headed heiress, and reaffirming our notion that good porn
should really be left up to professional porn
stars.
2004 saw the return of Paris in the
download queues of millions when her cellphone got hacked. Of
course hacked isn't the right word for it. That'd be like
calling someone who uses a key under your doormat to break into
your house a "cat thief". Paris had locked up her cellular
goods securely using her dog Tinkerbell's name as her password
- a dog and password spoken many times to millions of viewers
who watch her show The Simple Life. It wasn't long after before Paris's goods were
spread out before us once again. There were pictures, mostly of
celeb friends and the hangers on; some erotic in a lesbian
romance novel sort of way. And there were her phone
numbers.
What I enjoyed most was her notes and
reminders, jotted down the way we all jot down notes to
ourselves - sloppy, misspelled and cryptic. But these weren't
just any notes, these were the notes of royalty; of a jet-setting, heiress-socialite whose access
to the luxuries of the world far exceed her ability to
appreciate them, or even deserve them for that matter. She's a
celebrity, a star. But then she is who she is, not only because
of her inherited fortune and God-given physical beauty, but
because we've made her what she is. We've deemed her culturally
significant by watching her shows, buying her magazines and
downloading her porn.
But why should she be the only one who
gets to benefit from all the free attention, fame, and
adoration that people worldwide send her way? What about the
rest of us, or myself for that matter? I write about dildos in
FedEx commercials, panda sex, and the beauty of bipartisanship
when alcohol is involved. I'm culturally relevant! What about
me? Well, I'm not going to be overlooked any more.
I have decided to do something unique
and revolutionary, the likes of which have not been seen on the
internet since the remixes of Star Wars Kid or in Hollywood since Adaptation. I am going to set out to write a screenplay based
on the works of Paris Hilton's cellphone. I am going to comb
through every photo of drunken B-list celebrities and every
misspelled, poorly punctuated note to create a historically
accurate epic, on par with Lawrence of Arabia, Gone with the
Wind, and Schindler's List. For the sake of history, I am going to post every
step of the process right here.
Many of you will likely scoff at my
ambitions and doubt that anything can be made of such poor
scraps. Michaelangelo dealt with the same doubts as he began
carving his masterpiece Davidfrom a flawed piece of stone. He would later say
that he had always seen David in the stone, and that he was
setting him free. Well, Paris Hilton is in these scraps (the
topless pictures of her prove it) and I am going to create my
masterpiece. It will be so... Hot!
Posted at 04:13 PM < Just Another Brick in the Blog
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