The GOP Weaponized The Tax Code…
6 years ago
Monday, June 04, 2007
Today at the Gym: Paris Hilton
At Crackpot Press we don’t do gossipy shtick but this afternoon had an impact on me. On my somewhat daily voyage to the gym, a few cameramen were hanging out front. This happens from time to time because of the art house movie theater next door. High brow actors often premiere their passion projects there. But it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, who the hell has a premiere then?
Juggling my backpack, power bar, water bottle, car keys and wallet I attempt to obtain a towel and validation. Instead I walk smack dab into Paris Hilton
Ironically, the theater next door was playing “Paris Je T’Aime” (Paris, I Love You). Because some people care, she wore summertime snappy head-to-toe white sweats, pink trucker hat and gold “Elvisy” sunglasses.. She was in excellent spirits and gave warm, enthusiastic “hellos” to her gym pals. Like an adorable sprite, she bounced up the stairs with a staff trainer and proceeded to the free weight area. With her forthcoming date with the joint, it was surprising. to see such a good ‘tude. No special rooms, no special treatment, she’s just another gal at the gym. Shit, I’m surprised she is even showing her face in public.
Unlike most media conglomerates, we admit freely that the staff of the Crackpot Press have had our run-ins (or barfights ) with Johnny Law.. We even boast a staff felon. So we don’t really give two gawd damns about who’s going to jail. We’ve been there and we deserved it. The thought of the forthcoming doom is the worst part, the rest you just deal with. It really just breathes down on you and the sheer embarrassment is all encompassing.
I changed, gulped down some of the comp mouthwash (I hate smelling like cigarettes at the gym). When I came out the 5 or 6 stalkarattzi had replicated to about a dozen. They were all standing outside like the posse coming in for the kill, one dog even pressed his nose against the shaded glass doors.
After a half hour on the treadmill I join Ms. Hilton upstairs. Reminiscent of the fifth reel of “Night of Living Dead,” the crowd outside is growing and seething.(BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAINS!) The gassy scent of onions, Carl's Jr and failure permeates from the under the entranceway. They would kill to see what I see. Paris is doing a series of strength improving lunges, the ones where you are on all fours and kick your legs back. She’s performing the same work out that the tattooed mom I usually spy on does. The thing that struck me is that this chick is working really hard; sweat and everything. I go to the bikes do another fifteen minutes then off for some free weights.
From the top level you can see the cameras--. Peering, groping for any kind of tantalizing money shot to trade for rent. With all of them pressing up against the glass, you really feel like an animal at the zoo. It was the oddest feeling. Unsettling. Uncomfortable. As if they were watching me too. How can someone live like that? Just an hour sour taste was more than this kid needed.
The patrons of my gym tend to be too cool for the room. Even the most beautiful of the beautiful people were a little rattled. The ugly mob armed with photogenic muskets continued to multiply.
Freshly showered with free soap I walked out. Paris must have still been in there somewhere. The scumarattzi all wore blank expressions adorned in XXXL clothes. I came out to face the throng; there must have been 3-4 dozen or so by now. The people behind the cameras are a rough bunch. Literally, these are the great unwashed. All wore blank expressions tented in XXXL clothes. These are 36 men and women who would all lose a Beauty Pageant to Meat Loaf and a spelling bee to Charo. There is absolutely nothing behind the eyes.
Paris must be stoked about taking 45 days off to go to jail. I wouldn’t want to hang out with these folks either. And after all, it’s only 45 days in the joint.. Can you imagine if the mainstream media (meaning everyone.. even Bill O';Riley and Olberman, Drudge, Huffington) who cover this crap went after the real criminals., When Ken Lay, Scooter Libby, Dick Cheney and George Tenant went to the gym where was the Paparazzi? They followed Sadaam Hussein.Hiot. Paris has done nothing that any of us haven't done. For crying out loud, it's not like Paris invaded the wrong country So for this judgemental MSM:
Ever do a rail?
Ever sleep with someone you shouldn't have?
Did you ever not get it?
Ever try and make up for it?
Why is Paris Hilton front page news?: Because the MSM fucked up on Iraq. Paris got a DUI? Who cares?
So I say “Good Luck” to you Paris Hilton! Be happy for the peace and quiet. You deserve it and will come out a better person. Try some yoga.
Last Updated ( Sunday, 03 June 2007 )
Juggling my backpack, power bar, water bottle, car keys and wallet I attempt to obtain a towel and validation. Instead I walk smack dab into Paris Hilton
Ironically, the theater next door was playing “Paris Je T’Aime” (Paris, I Love You). Because some people care, she wore summertime snappy head-to-toe white sweats, pink trucker hat and gold “Elvisy” sunglasses.. She was in excellent spirits and gave warm, enthusiastic “hellos” to her gym pals. Like an adorable sprite, she bounced up the stairs with a staff trainer and proceeded to the free weight area. With her forthcoming date with the joint, it was surprising. to see such a good ‘tude. No special rooms, no special treatment, she’s just another gal at the gym. Shit, I’m surprised she is even showing her face in public.
Unlike most media conglomerates, we admit freely that the staff of the Crackpot Press have had our run-ins (or barfights ) with Johnny Law.. We even boast a staff felon. So we don’t really give two gawd damns about who’s going to jail. We’ve been there and we deserved it. The thought of the forthcoming doom is the worst part, the rest you just deal with. It really just breathes down on you and the sheer embarrassment is all encompassing.
I changed, gulped down some of the comp mouthwash (I hate smelling like cigarettes at the gym). When I came out the 5 or 6 stalkarattzi had replicated to about a dozen. They were all standing outside like the posse coming in for the kill, one dog even pressed his nose against the shaded glass doors.
After a half hour on the treadmill I join Ms. Hilton upstairs. Reminiscent of the fifth reel of “Night of Living Dead,” the crowd outside is growing and seething.(BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAINS!) The gassy scent of onions, Carl's Jr and failure permeates from the under the entranceway. They would kill to see what I see. Paris is doing a series of strength improving lunges, the ones where you are on all fours and kick your legs back. She’s performing the same work out that the tattooed mom I usually spy on does. The thing that struck me is that this chick is working really hard; sweat and everything. I go to the bikes do another fifteen minutes then off for some free weights.
From the top level you can see the cameras--. Peering, groping for any kind of tantalizing money shot to trade for rent. With all of them pressing up against the glass, you really feel like an animal at the zoo. It was the oddest feeling. Unsettling. Uncomfortable. As if they were watching me too. How can someone live like that? Just an hour sour taste was more than this kid needed.
The patrons of my gym tend to be too cool for the room. Even the most beautiful of the beautiful people were a little rattled. The ugly mob armed with photogenic muskets continued to multiply.
Freshly showered with free soap I walked out. Paris must have still been in there somewhere. The scumarattzi all wore blank expressions adorned in XXXL clothes. I came out to face the throng; there must have been 3-4 dozen or so by now. The people behind the cameras are a rough bunch. Literally, these are the great unwashed. All wore blank expressions tented in XXXL clothes. These are 36 men and women who would all lose a Beauty Pageant to Meat Loaf and a spelling bee to Charo. There is absolutely nothing behind the eyes.
Paris must be stoked about taking 45 days off to go to jail. I wouldn’t want to hang out with these folks either. And after all, it’s only 45 days in the joint.. Can you imagine if the mainstream media (meaning everyone.. even Bill O';Riley and Olberman, Drudge, Huffington) who cover this crap went after the real criminals., When Ken Lay, Scooter Libby, Dick Cheney and George Tenant went to the gym where was the Paparazzi? They followed Sadaam Hussein.Hiot. Paris has done nothing that any of us haven't done. For crying out loud, it's not like Paris invaded the wrong country So for this judgemental MSM:
Ever do a rail?
Ever sleep with someone you shouldn't have?
Did you ever not get it?
Ever try and make up for it?
Why is Paris Hilton front page news?: Because the MSM fucked up on Iraq. Paris got a DUI? Who cares?
So I say “Good Luck” to you Paris Hilton! Be happy for the peace and quiet. You deserve it and will come out a better person. Try some yoga.
Last Updated ( Sunday, 03 June 2007 )
Friday, June 01, 2007
Quick Blurb on being Cocky
So I recently I have been working out again. I used to be quite the worker out prior to being diagnosed with juvenile diabetes three years ago. Finally I have gotten a better handle on blood sugar and I can work out again.
In any case, I have been doing this regularly for last three weeks. Im at that point where you are beginning to see changes in your body. Frankly, I have been getting a little cocky. Checkin myself out in the mirror more (Who's looking good.. THIS GUY!)
So I am at the elevator going into my gym, feelin all cocky. THere are mirrored doors on the elevator, so I am taking a moment to check myself out.
The doors open, I step forward and my stomach drops through my balls. I am eyeball to eyeball with Mike Tyson. He has just completed his Saturday morning
work out.
The feeling was quite similar to, I would imagine, going for a swim in a neighborhood pool only to find yourself eyeball to eyeball with a Great White.
He passed and I suddenly decided I needed a least a few more days in the gym before I can get cocky again.
In any case, I have been doing this regularly for last three weeks. Im at that point where you are beginning to see changes in your body. Frankly, I have been getting a little cocky. Checkin myself out in the mirror more (Who's looking good.. THIS GUY!)
So I am at the elevator going into my gym, feelin all cocky. THere are mirrored doors on the elevator, so I am taking a moment to check myself out.
The doors open, I step forward and my stomach drops through my balls. I am eyeball to eyeball with Mike Tyson. He has just completed his Saturday morning
work out.
The feeling was quite similar to, I would imagine, going for a swim in a neighborhood pool only to find yourself eyeball to eyeball with a Great White.
He passed and I suddenly decided I needed a least a few more days in the gym before I can get cocky again.
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