LK: Welcome Paris. How was jail? PH: I wasn’t in jail; I was at a correctional facility. You make it sound so gross.
LK: You were behind bars, weren’t you?
PH: Bars are for hardened criminals and houses in Trinidad and I am not a hardened criminal nor was I in Trinidad.
LK: How was your stay at the correctional facility and what was being corrected?
PH: Larry, you know a judge sent me there because he thought I was a menace to society. He thought I should be taught a lesson and my behavior was what he was trying to correct. And I think I was corrected.
LK: That sounds so profound coming from one who is so blond. Are you a true blond?
PH: Didn’t you see my movies?
LK: Let’s not go there. Miss Hilton, there are those who love you and those who hate you. Why is this? What do people hate about you.
PH: I know people hate me for my looks, my partying skills, my vanity, my money, my dog; Tinkerbell, and I am a natural born beauty with a perfect figure. What’s not to hate.
LK: But some say you’re dumb.
PH: Dumb is a four letter word that should never be used to describe people you are not related to. I am the perfect package so it’s natural for those who envy me to find one little fault in me and make a big deal out of it. I am not dumb; I just don’t have the time to be smart.
LK: So then why do you have so many fans?
PH: My fans are those people who appreciate perfection not brains. I don’t choose my fans they choose me. People don’t like you or hate you because of your IQ. You can’t always take IQ to the bank but you can always bank on beauty.
LK: You cried like a baby when they were taking you to prison; you called for your mommy. Was jail for you a turning point in your life?
PH: I had been handcuffed before but never like this. I cried because I couldn’t take my friends with me and they all should be there. Yes, it was a turning point for me, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I had time to reflect in a sober mode and for the first time in my life. I am sure I am a different but better person, a more responsible person who appreciates the consequences of not wearing makeup.
LK: Was that the reason you were whisked away from the paparazzi when you were released?
PH: Yes.
LK: Are you real or are you a made up girl.
PH: Feel this Larry…just joking, I know about your hearth condition.
Cough, cough! Larry almost falls off his chair.
LK: You almost pulled my plug there girl…what would you say would be the biggest change in your life after prison?
PH: I will party less, look at Discovery Channel…and the Larry King Show, naturally. I will wear underwear more often, learn to read, find out where the bookstores are…there are a whole host of things I was putting off.
LK: Would you call yourself a bad girl?
PH: Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t bad the new goodness?
LK: Would you say your parents brought you up in the wrong way?
PH: What is the right way? I was born to look good and that is my calling. The public need me Larry, they need to look see what they are not. We are all not equally blessed and why should I pretend I am not who I am.
LK: You sound smarter than you look. I am impressed.
PH: That is what I do best Larry, I impress.
Corn-curls are important to any nation aspiring to become developed. You can tell by the speed and urgency which the corn-curls delivery trucks pelt down the highway at six in the morning. I have nothing against early deliveries but driving like a menace to meet an unrealistic delivery schedule is criminal. All corn-curls investors want a high rate of return on their investment because they have boats and girlfriends to buy. In order to make more money the output per corn-curl worker has to be increased, thus giving rise to speeding trucks at daybreak. Higher profits mean increased employment and the employed not only provide for their families, they provide them with corn curls. The more corn-curls a country possesses wealthier the nation. Beer trucks are slower than the trucks of their corn flavored counterparts. What they lack in speed and aggression they make up for in causing traffic jams in narrow country roads where the people-to-bar ratio is legendary. Beer distributors claim using smaller trucks would be uneconomical since they would cause less traffic, giving people less reason to drink. The main reason men drink beer is not to relieve stress but to attract females by developing an appealing beer-belly. Like corn curls, the beer-belly is a wealth indicator.
SUVs deliver children to schools and contribute positively to global warming. Not only is the SUV fuel-inefficient but also their drivers sport oversize sunglasses to hide wrinkles and hangovers. By driving an SUV a person makes a bold statement about what they are and that statement says, I may not be pretty but I sure got money. The typical SUV driver talks about the dangers of global warming while driving. They justify buying an SUV by claiming the roads are bad, and that is why they swerve from every pothole they meet. In most wealthy countries, the SUV and its owners are considered as important as corn curls and beer as wealth indicators.
We are a wealthy nation.
A Diet cola is a sugar-free drink bought by people who need to reduce their waistline by reducing their guilt. Diet cola is an acquired taste and people who have been drinking the stuff for years manage to convince themselves that it taste better than its sugary sister. To say one thing taste better than another is to say one girl looks better than another, or that Chinese taste better than Indian. It’s all a matter of the personal taste an individual develops after years of patronizing countless fast food joints and porn sites. I have been drinking Diet Coke and Coke Light for years and I do feel fat when I taste the regular Coke. Numerous studies suggest all foods, including diet drinks and curry duck, can cause you to suffer and die in a Government run hospital by age fifty. The main cause for concern in diet drinks is a sweetener named aspartame, an evil sounding word coined by rat-killing scientists. Searching on Google, I didn’t find any conclusive evidence that suggest aspartame will harm you any more than being hit on the head by a falling Julie mango will.
The alleged dangers of diet drinks was first raised by and alarmist looking for new ways for people to die from food. Alarmism is the world’s fastest growing second-job and it attracts those who are not only caring, but social oddities. The alarmist warns anyone who is bored enough about the dangers of everything, including alarmist and activist. According to the alarmist, there is nothing in the world that’s safe. Manufacturers have acknowledged this and now place appropriate warnings on products in their finest print.
Beer brewers now warn people that drinking and driving can be dangerous, and driving should be avoided rather than drinking. I agree; why should beer manufacturers promote the auto industry. Manufacturers’ warnings are legal loopholes that send profits up and customers to opticians. Even razorblades now come with the warning “sharp edge,” and I certainly hope so. Cautions are too common, and alarmists are even more so. The warnings are unnecessary and obvious - sleeping tablets can cause drowsiness, thongs may stick, rap music sucks. Vital information is lost among the clutter and the needless. Google is crawling every nook and blog to populate their databases.
We can no longer tell good from and bad so we listen to Britney and look at Paris. Our information filters are defenseless and our brain is overloaded. More dangers lurk than ever before and our blogs are useless. Information overload is turning us into zombies writing warnings in blog-form that no one will ever read. I feel like a cigarette pack.
A local daily newspaper with variable circulation and don’t know why, advertised for trainee-journalists who are willing to work for a stipend before being rejected for the job. They requested a resumé, and a written reason in one hundred words or less, why you want to be a journalist. I am not that inclined but writing anything in one hundred words or less is too tempting to turn down. I clocked 101. Why I want to be a journalist 101
I am not sure if I want to be a journalist more than I want the stipend. Being a journalist is more than driving big cars and partying with the latest lingerie models. It’s seeing my name in print and getting letters from people who imagine I am good looking. Journalists rub shoulders, and sometimes breast, with the best. Top journalists know unnamed sources and even a few reliable ones. Reporters are knowledgeable people and that’s why Stephen Glass is my hero. Journalists are quite unique and have the power to save the world in one column, but only after editing.
There is no love-hate relationship between man and mosquito - only hate and bug spray. Mosquitoes serve no useful purpose and that is one similarity they have with man. Other similarities are, mosquitoes spread diseases and bite people. Mosquitoes evolved around the 9th of June, 170 million years ago and for no good reason. Since then, things have never been the same.The mosquito evolved long before man and only Darwin, or Dawkins knows why. But, like the cockroach and political opportunist, mosquitos will be here for a long time to come.
Paris Hilton is doing time for violating a three-year probation for drunk driving and possibly bad acting. She should be forgiven since she is young and has too much money to need a real brain. Miss Hilton was initially sentenced to 45 days in jail but had it cut in half for good behavior and nice legs. Paris Hilton will be serving semi-hard time in a 12-cell special needs section of Lynwood Century Regional Detention Facility, also known as the county slammer. With semi-hard time she will be wearing the same outfit everyday. She also has special needs and to be locked away is one of them. Paris Hilton has been described as a socialite, heiress, sexy, over-sexed, brat, spoilt-brat, airhead, dumb, blond, dumb-blond, narcissistic, intellectually misunderstood, prison-bound, and enhanced. Half of what you know of celebrities is normally untrue and the other half is silicone. She is grossly misunderstood and needs to learn English. In order to understand Paris you need to put your self in her shoes - preferably one of the pink pairs. She can sell a man anything but it’s not for sale.
Being born of rich parents is no guarantee that the media will seek you out, but a sex-tape and no underwear, especially if female and pretty, is a sure thing. The media craves what the public craves and the public craves a beauty less ordinary and a bald Britney. We make celebrities by feeding their starving egos, and they in turn feed our hungry imaginations, and our desperate blogs.
Until she fell, the Miss USA delegate at the 2007 Miss Universe Contest was hardly noticeable. Some critics said it was her fall and prompt recovery which landed her in the top five. It probably also earned her several boos. She is a very pretty girl and had the typical bubbly Miss 
The start of The Rainy Season is a happy time for most people. It signifies the end of bush fires, the Some say the best part of the rainy season is waiting for a hurricane to nearly hit
The Rainy Season can be unsympathetic to insurance companies and their customers' premiums. The rain doesn't claim to be anyone's friend or anyone's enemy. The rain is simply a natural occurrence made worse by Global Warming and disaster movies. We can either love the rain or collect it in buckets, it doesn't care. We can blame the weather all we want but we still have to buy new wiper blades and life rafts. The Rainy Season is not a living thing but it is necessary for our existence and that of umbrella salesmen. The Rainy Season is not here for our convenience or entertainment. It is here because that's how the Earth spins.
Dear Questionable,
Firstly, short people are now called vertically challenged and tall people are called by their names. A recent study of one hundred falling humans have revealed that a tall person is ten times more likely to topple when dropkicked than a short person. Researchers also discovered that short people are poor targets for dropkicking and should be punched hard in the stomach instead.
A recent random pinch test conducted on the streets of the nation’s capital revealed that the police only responded to one out of fifty incidents of random pinching. The test also showed that fat people were slower to slap the pincher and it was harder to find something to pinch on the thin people. One researcher observed that fat people wore tighter jeans, and received large amounts of oggoling while thin people pretended not to care. The study concluded that both fat and thin people felt the same amount of pain and almost the same amount of embarrassment in clothing stores and popular beaches.
aka_lol
Some of these silver-boxes are even more expensive than a DSLR, but look more fashionable and can fit easier in a shirt pocket or wallet.
I get the impression that Mike Johnston is either being a devil’s advocate, or an aggrieved photographer. Incidentally, the aggrieved photographer is becoming trendy and they, more than likely, may displace the poor and the needy as the object of charity and tax breaks.
I believe Mike Johnston is suggesting that if you only have a limited time on this planet you might as well use it on something useful like real photography or cussing. I almost agree with him.
Not everybody who can afford a BMW buys one and similarly not everybody who can afford a DSLR believes they are worthy of such a device. The average BMW owner craves a status symbol and comfort, and has little appreciation for the intricacies of how the engine really works or why the car must be rebooted every weekend. The average DSLR owner hopes to make the quantum leap forward in his/or her photography, but usually ends up blaming the lens.
What I have discovered is that the world doesn’t come to an end, or become less happy because people are not interested in photography. I don’t know anything about classical Indian dance, or appreciate why the Mona Lisa is such an overpriced painting, but I am happy with that ignorance. Some may scorn me for my ignorance but it’s their scorn and my bliss. Similarly, millions of people are happy with their silver light-capturing boxes, fitted with Leica lens, and set on the green auto-mode because they don’t want to learn the difference between an f-stop and a bus-stop. I doubt these people want to go through the frustration of acquiring photography knowledge, and the even more frustrating process of applying that knowledge in the pursuit of creativity and impressing others.
Because we are not all the same we all seek different pursuits for happyness. Unfortunately, some may not be happy with this latest state but, as the old saying goes, that’s life.
Once upon a time, on a tiny diagonally shaped island located not too far away, there lived a goodly cleric. He was loved by all the people, revered by his followers, and even tolerated by his wife. One day, as bad luck would normally have it in April, the cleric was discovered hiding in his closet by a bunch of his most possessed followers. He was humming along to an Elton Wrong song being played on his iPod while eating a fruit. Pink with embarrassment and fearful for his life, the goodly man declared he didn't know it was Elton Wrong and thought it was Dire Straight - It should be noted that turning pink while eating a fruit was not considered helpful in such situations and shouting Dire Straight had only a minimal effect on the amount of blows received - This enraged the loyalist even more and they started to shout imaginary passages and a real nursery rhyme from their collectively small minds. He begged his followers for forgiveness but they didn't know the meaning of the word and no one walked with a dictionary that day. The mob demand answers and a full cash refund, but he still could not explain why he seemed to have a passion for eating fruits in closets. Maybe he had a thing for seeds.
The followers, believing that love not only changes everything but should hurt, agreed on some good licks. They dragged the MP3 player by the ear buds, along with the fruit by the bag into the parking lot and leh go some good wood onto the deviants. The followers knew that lehing go some good wood was the answer to all the world's problems, and things like kindness and understanding were for marketing purposes only. The mob then called for an embargo on all iPods and Mac computers because its maker was closely associated with a major foreign fruit. Fearful of contamination by ignorance, the mob also stopped eating vegetables since most followers had great problems distinguishing real fruits from real vegetables in nightclubs. The cleric couldn't understand what all the fuss was about since after a few drinks they all tasted the same anyway.
The preacher man finally succumbed to pew pressure and turned his life into a bigger mess. He started to eat straight meat and poultry, but no hen. He took part in village fruit-hunts, where even jams, jellies, marmalades and the better quality fig newtons were not spared a good trashing. But he didn't care anymore since, along with kindness and understanding, it was removed from his job specification. All they required of him was to carry a straight public face that was washed in a gold, fruitless sink all year round.
For all his life there were only a few moments he ever wanted to give the young ones stock tips like do your homework, obey your parents, floss daily, find out who your father really is, but those moments had long since disappeared together with his once-prized Theroux's inscribed first editions. In his opinion, if there was one thing the young ones needed apart from a good pimple cream, was an early introduction to recognizing good books by their covers. If you want to fake intelligence you might as well go all the way, he chuckled.
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My version of B.C vs. V.S
“Five doubles, two with no pepper, three without, six in all.” Naturally this order for doubles had the doubles lady cleanly stumped like a lackluster West Indian cricketer during a World Cup Match held somewhere, except
The Prime Minister was visibly more angry than usual with the line of questioning from reporters at yesterday’s news conference. Unfortunately, he once again didn’t come across as a leader but as a spoilt child who is not getting what he wants – praise, power, and his own way.
Portuguese Man o' War - a potentially lethal pink creature which is in no way associated with this blog or the current crime wave sweeping the country