Africa: The Perfect Photo-Op
I am sitting in my dentist’s waiting room, flipping through really old magazines, and doing my best to dodge the anorexic receptionist’s icy half smiles. (And by the way, my dentist charges $200 to look your way without disdain. You’d think we’d get current issues of Vanity Fair for that price.)
Anyway, there on the cover of a dated People Magazine is Jessica Simpson—pre divorce, while she was in the middle of the most blatant lie in this town (“My husband and I are happy! Really!”) since Jeffrey Katzenberg swore his allegiance to Michael Eisner.
And guess where Ms. Simpson is during a pre “we decided to go our separate ways but remain good friends” publicity tour? Where can American starlets possibly go to blunt an upcoming publicity onslaught? Yep. They go to
It reminds me of a snarky article about Ashley Judd in
Among the notable parts:
And every place we went, Ashley Judd swooped down like a good Southern matron and hugged the small children. She cried with destitute mothers. She stroked the heads of poor black people. The photographers from Glamour and Conde Nast loved it. And then, she's back in the car, and Ashley is tired, and Ashley is sick, and Ashley needs acupuncture. I asked the YouthAIDS senior person whether maybe Ashley was a bit spoiled, and she told me the story of how Ashley refused to do their first promotional tour to
A profound love for humanity, but no time for humans: the very picture of the narcissist celebrity leftist.
Never gets old.
Eventually, eventually I will blackmail/wear down a Mr. AK to write the back story of when Geldof first visited
Another thing. Can we do this? Can we put a moratorium (pronounced “moratori’UM” as in
And seriously, this is a crime against humanity.
As Africans, how did we let