Scurrilous Ephemera for November 2009
– by Stephanie MacDonald
Repent Sinner: So the smiley, Bible-thumping, accidentally-topless-due-to-failure-to-wear-top, anti-equality Ex-Miss California, Carrie Prejean, has finally settled the lawsuit orgy between herself and the Miss California Pageant company. Miss Prejean is repellent for a number of reasons, not the least being that she had rational individuals compelled to come down on the same side of a dispute as Perez Hilton and the Miss California USA company (owned by Donald Trump), and that makes us feel corrupt and dirty, and not in a good way.
So the “Opposite Marriage” proponent and pageant boob-procurer has been told by the pageant company “you can have the silicone implants, we forgive you for being all diva-y and redneck and embarrassing, can you please go away now.” Now they “wish each other the best in their future endeavors.” How civilized, and right in time for her to begin explaining to her loyal right-wing followers, scary family, and Jesus how she managed to accidentally make the (supposedly too raunchy to post) solo sex tape that TMZ has had in its possession for some time. In fact, the factual existence of the sex tape is probably the main reason she was persuaded to drop the lawsuit in the first place. You almost have to feel sorry for the girl – none of her Christian-fundamentalist supporters will have anything to do with her until she becomes born again-again, rebukes her evil spirits and take her place alongside Bristol Palin lecturing the hapless youth of America about the dangers of gays, sex, wind, and uh, masturbation in front of digital recording devices.
Playboy French President Nicolas Sarkozy and his privileged, beautiful and man-eating bride Carla Bruni are planning to have a baby, even though they already have four between the two of them, and neither is particularly known for their warmth and devotion to family. Uh, actually, they both seem enthusiastically devoted to the opposite, if past behavior can be any evidence. Oh well, we can never have too many over-indulged Eurotrash offspring to giggle at when we’re tearing up the dance floors on Ibiza, can we?