Aid, Rite*

I've always felt for celebrities, I really have. The only thing the masses love more than a winner? A winner who loses it all. It's got to be tough to be beloved. Really. No one can live up to everyone's expectations... no one can survive forever under the scrutiny of their fans. So, yeah... it's gotta' be tough, living in the spotlight.

But then, there's Paris. WHY is that girl a celebrity? Or -thanks to the wags at VH1- a "celebutante?" What has she ever done to further art, or discourse? Why do I have to be even remotely aware of her existence?

Right now, someone is working in a lab. She's hypthesizing; she's testing and testing again. She's buried in reams of notes and surrounded by centrifuges and electron microscopes. She's closer than ever to finding a cure for psoriasis or acid reflux. Her work could lead to a vaccine for Ebola... I will never, ever know her name.

This is why I don't feel bad about perusing the contents of Paris' sidekick. I know no one ever bothered to veil her profound lack of... well, talent... and gravitas... and, you know, humanity, but maybe -just maybe- when Ron Perlman gets his baJILLIONTH call from some yahoo in Utah who got his number from the internet, maybe he'll distance himself from the no-talent skank. And maybe the rest of the "A List" will do the same, and when the heartland learns that even Lindsay Lohan has stopped taking Paris' IM's... maybe then we can all move past this era of celebutantes... and the healing can finally begin.

Warren Ellis, meanwhile, has a more practical view of Paris' pillaging:

So by Monday morning, everyone will have seen the photos, phone numbers and notes from Paris Hilton’s hacked T-Mobile Sidekick II hiptop.

Now, supposedly, the rumour doing the rounds today is that her password was conned out of her by someone. And bearing in mind how crap the girl is at, say, keeping her home-made fuck tapes in the drawer, it’s entirely possible.

However, I would point out that any hiptop owner who uses T-Mobile and does not immediately change all their passwords tomorrow is a bloody idiot. The Sidekick II stores all its data on T-Mobile’s servers. If Ms Hilton wasn’t scammed out of her password, then there’s a hole in T-Mobile you could run a truck through.

I think I have Xtina Aguilera’s phone number now, by the way.

*Sadly, the link to Paris' privates is dead. It died, miraculously, in less time than it took savvy web entrepreneurs to manufacture and market t-shirts reading "Paris Hilton made me change my number." But here's J Lo's vagina.