Not all discourse on the subject of celebrities has to be vapid. Sometimes the cynosure class’ exploits, as reported by the legion of professional watchers charged with the duty of exalting them to an insatiable public, can be instructive. I won’t say that the “Free Paris” thread scaled any unmastered pinnacles of blaming greatness, but it wasn’t a total bore. As blamer Catherine Martell pointed out, “Nelson Mandela she ain’t.”
Anyway, how about this?
This celebrity hottie was strolling along in the streets of L.A., minding her own beeswax, when a Porsche slowed down next to her. Three creepy things then transpired. The blamanalysis follows in italics.
1. The celebrity was “quite flattered” that the male driver of such a prestigious car would take notice of her. Because approbative attention from wealthy male strangers is one of the many useful perks women receive in return for practicing femininity, women know to appreciate it as a substitute for love.
2. The driver turned out to be a john soliciting a pay-per-rape. All women in public are fair game for the pornsick.
3. The celebrity was offended that she should be mistaken for “a hooker.” Male dominant culture divides the sex class into two subclasses: titillating ‘nice girls’ who are rewarded by having to service only one dude at a time, and interchangeable faceless fuckhole sluts who have to screw all comers; members of the former subclass guard their slightly more privileged status jealously, since they know that just one false move could land them among the untouchable sluts at the drop of a hat.
See how BravoTV makes blaming as easy as 1-2-3? Our celebrity demonstrates, in functioning as both victim and practitioner, how an undertaking as seemingly innocuous as walking in public is not and cannot, for a member of the oppressed class, be a politically neutral act.