The Divorce of America’s Princess, Kim Kardashian

The October 31 divorce of Kim Kardashian has led to one of three reactions from everyone who’s heard about it: Reaction one is that of genuine concern for Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries, which is a natural reaction to a typical couple’s divorce. Reaction two is “Fuck that fame-whore pump, she makes me wish herpes were a terminal disease.” And reaction three is one of general indifference because the person in question is fixated upon more pressing issues, like the fact that the country is sliding into anarchy and that, by 2014, our judicial system will be replaced by Thunderdome.

I fall squarely in camp three: I simply don’t care. Yes, Kim Kardashian is a hot broad, and I’d certainly enjoy the insertion of my penis inside her vagina (though, given her previous partners, she’d feel it as much as a typical woman would a tampon). But I don’t know her personally. Which means I don’t care. And maybe that cements my sneaking suspicion that I’m an emotionally-deadened borderline autistic, but I have to actually know someone to give two shits about what happens to them.

As for those of you who are disgusted that this divorce is getting such extensive coverage, well, gossip sells and we live in a capitalist society, which means any news outlet looking to make the most bang for its buck is going to cover stories like this. To paraphrase The Dark Knight, “We get the news we deserve, but not the news we need right now.” So bathe in the fact that we’re going to be seeing even more of Kim’s gigantic ass as she waddles it around in circles, pacing like a Civil War widow, mourning the NBA lockout to a degree you and I will never be able to comprehend.

Tagged as: Kim Kardashian.