Well, it finally happened. All it took was a jewel heist, but somebody turned Kim Kardashian babyface in the court of public opinion. And yet, questions remain. Kim K lives her life surrounded by bodyguards, camera crews, and the human equivalent of those birds that eat morsels of shit out of rhinos’ assholes; why, on the night of this alleged Ocean’s Elevening, was the motherfucking building night watchman the only thing standing between Kim and The Great Muppet Caper? That’s only acceptable if the doorman is a dinosaur with chainsaw hands. And do you even know how impossible it is to get ahold of a gun in France? You’d have a better chance bludgeoning your victim to death with a stale baguette. Still, I suppose we ought to give Mrs. Kim Kardashian West the benefit of the doubt. BUT—and this one’s bigger than Kim’s famous Internet breaker—I draw the fucking line at “being respectful of her during this difficult time,” i.e. self-censorship for the comfort of others. Call it a weird fucking hill to die on, but this is bigger than a spoiled millionaire (allegedly) getting ripped off.
“Wow, what set this asshole off?” you must be wondering. Simple! James Corden. Who’s James Corden, you ask? Oh, just another amorphous, passing-for-charming bean bag in a long line of expats who love to come stateside and give us all a bop on the nose for being “American idiots.” We get it, Trevor Noah; America in 2016 is a dumpster fire fucking a nuclear disaster on the side of the road. I watched a man fight a dog for an old pizza crust, you don’t have to tell me how fucked up things are around here. James Corden has all the appeal of a diarrhea mojito, so for some reason people actually give a shit what he has to say. He tweeted out, “people making jokes about Kim Kardashian tonight would do well to remember that she’s a mother, a daughter, a wife, a friend. Be nice or shut up.” And you know what? Perhaps he’s right in pure moral theory. But this is fucking Hollywood we’re talking about, where hypocrisy rains from the sky like handfuls of beer shits at a GG Allin show.
The same people who were celebrating Justice Antonin Scalia’s death with Ewok-like jubilation are the ones calling folks “disgusting” and “subhuman” over a handful of stupid jokes. Yeah, Scalia was an ideologically bankrupt bulldog testicle, but pissing on the guy’s grave completely undermines your position when you stand up to defend the living embodiment of Regina George. By James Corden’s logic, Scalia was a husband, a father, a son. But hey, let’s not rag on Kim K’s brush with terror because… because…because why, exactly? Because she’s a mother? I’ve seen her vagina on accident more times than I’ve seen some of my past girlfriends’ on purpose. Because she’s a daughter? The only thing that keeps Kris Jenner up at night is the whereabouts of the ten mil in jewels. Because she’s a friend? OHHHHH. Okay, I think I got it. This offends you personally, *cough* James Corden, Chrissy Teigen, *cough* so the rest of us must be wrong.
I thought the whole point of the Kardashians was to make fun of them! It used to be cathartic to eat the rich because most of us will never know the kind of wealth and influence they enjoy. Look, if you walk up to somebody whose house just burned down and ask why she didn’t invite you over for s’mores, you’re a fucking dick. But if you tweet a bunch of personal attacks at a celebrity with fifty million Twitter followers and a net worth three times that, you’re a fart in a windstorm. The idea that celebrities should be a protected class makes me want to puke my guts out, eat the puke, puke it up again, and waterboard myself to death with it. We’re talking about a woman who can’t pick a fucking wedgie unless it’s sponsored by Grey Goose—tell me again why I should pity her? Oh, because some quivering meat blob passing as a “star” told me to. What kills me is how many people actually buy it. These are the folks who root for their puppy to piss on the carpet just so they can rub its nose in the mess because it gets their dicks and/or pussies hard/wet to feel superior to another living thing.
If you’re “outraged” about people being cruel to Kim Kardashian, you don’t actually care about her safety. You’re the kind of person who wants to replace the identifier “fat” with “person of size” not because it breaks your heart to watch fatties mop their tears with chicken nuggets, but because you want sole credit for curb stomping stigma into oblivion. It’s downright intoxicating to unleash the full fury of your ideological righteousness on somebody; that doesn’t make it a noble profession if you’re doing it for selfish reasons. But by all means, continue to adopt buzzworthy causes and use them to bully dissenters. And James Corden, when I’m paying a team of twelve to apply blood diamond skin cream to my naked body while Kim Kardashian delivers pizzas, feel free to offer me a little perspective. But as long as I’m selling my holes, plasma and baby gravy just to keep a roof over my head and Kim Kardashian’s walking around with ten million dollars worth of jewelry on her person, you don’t get to tell me a goddamn thing about the fundamentals of human decency.