HOUSE OF WACK

By BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Oh, Paris.
Sweetie, come here. Sit down. We need to talk.
You’ve done television and that’s working out pretty well. I’ll admit I’ve laughed – guffawed, even -- on numerous occasions at your high jinks with Nicole Richie on The Simple Life. You’ve done movies and that’s working out … well, you’ve done movies. Yes, House of Wax counts.
Can’t you just stop there? Are you on a campaign for total entertainment world domination? It’s not like you need the exposure – a certain videotape from a couple years back gave you more than enough. Seriously. Stop.
Do you have to ruin music, too?
No, that’s not a typo. Music. Ms. Hilton is continuing to milk her long-expired 15 minutes of fame by recording an album. Just what kind of fare might one expect from the vacant-eyed, party-hardy heiress? Bubbly, synth-laden dance pop, right? Wrong. Word has it that La Hilton is gettin’ her gangsta on by teaming up with rap crew Three 6 Mafia. Really.
I can think of nothing more frightening … well, maybe Paris pairing with Kevin Federline for a duets album.
See, this is what happens when people become famous for nothing other than being famous. With no real talent to peddle, they stumble into the spotlight like drunken hogs on ice skittering around an all-you-can-eat buffet trough. A little bit of this … a little bit of that … And why? Because they can.
For those not in the know, Three 6 Mafia scored an Oscar for their song It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp from the movie Hustle & Flow. They’re not exactly the Limp Bizkit kinda band that chicks like Paree consider "hardcore." Without censorship, most of their songs would be a series of bleeps with intermittent noise words, e.g., Get kicked out of this (expletive) like, (expletive) that (expletive) – an actual censored line from an actual Mafia song.
Can Paris prove her street cred on her new album? Show that she’s down with the homeys? We’re talking about a girl for whom "the hood" is found on the back of an Abercrombie & Fitch pullover and "peeps" are sugary little Easter chickies.
I can just imagine what Hiltonized hip-hop would sound like:
"Check one, check two, check – EW! Like, who writes checks anymore? I totally use MasterCard Platinum … and Visa Platinum ... and American Express Platinum … and … what? Oh, we’re rolling? That’s hot.
‘Kay, so, like … I’m a fresh, fly honey from the big, bad city
My folks call me Paris – you can call me P. Hitty
I grew up on the mean streets of Beverly Hills
I go slumming in Bel Aire when I need some cheap thrills
Everyday I pull drive-bys – that’s a cold, hard fact
Like, I drive by Wal-Mart on the way to Saks
Think I’m a dumb blonde? Well, I’ve got you conned
See, I’m not really dumb – and I’m not really blonde!
Like, WORD … or whatever."