—Jann, Tulsa, Oklahoma
The B!tch Replies: Oh, ma chère ree-dare, zee way you tease. Zee lips, they say non non non, but zee circus-colored magazine collection, zee sub-screep-shones, they say oui oui oui.
Tell me: How does one grow so sick of Paris Hilton and Britney and Jessica Simpson if one hasn't been glued to Star magazine and Access Hollywood, hmmm? And why does one glue oneself to said rags and shows? Paris and Britney and Jessica. Right.
In other words, you may be sick of those girls and their poisonous text-message dramas, but you probably can't live without those ham-handedly manufactured crises, either. And the media knows it. Remember: Gossip magazines only write what will sell—what you will buy.
"Believe me," one top celebrity journo confides to this B!tch, "I am sick to death of Brad and Angelina and Jen, and if those people were to fall off the planet I would be a much happier reporter.
"But I guarantee you, if I were to write my 142nd story about how Jen is coping since Brad, and whether Jen has spoken to Angelina, people are gonna buy it."
This reporter could track down, say, Debra Messing, and find out what sort of off-Broadway japery she's been up to since Will & Grace—I guarantee there's a Vagina Monologues gig in there somewhere—but by then, Star readers will have moved on. In those few short nanoseconds, you and your friends, Jann, will have found some other outlet offering something more interesting to you, like whether Justin Timberlake this week is in the mood for Jessica Biel's life-raft lips or Scarlett Johansson's positively pneumatic ones.
The ol' black tar heroine of Hollywood gossip may taste like motor oil, but she seduces like a siren, don't she? I get letters all the time from folks like you, wanting to seem all lofty and erudite. So, tell me, what did you think of that catty little New Yorker article about the White House press dinner, where the reporter compared Rich Little to Nipsey Russell and...What? You didn't catch that? What about the Blade Runner 25th-anniversary retrospective they just ran in Los Angeles magazine, in which the filmmakers waxed forth on the futuristic aesthetic of...Oh, wait. You missed that, too.
In short, if you don't want to read about Paris anymore, find something with fewer pictures and bigger words. Like an Abercrombie catalog.
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