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The Soapbox: Rants and Commentary:
Lady Diana Died Last Night -- What Can I Say?Composed by David Anderson, Jr.(oommp@webspan.net)Lady Diana died last night in a car crash as she and some of her friends were fleeing from the paperazi. What can I say other than... who give a fuck? I'm supposed to care if some rich bitch can't handle her own celebrity status and speeds off into bridge abutment? Christ, get it off television! You want big new? The Giants fucking won, there's big important news for crying out loud. First of all, my opinion of the royal family and anyone involved in it is rather low to begin with. They are a figurehead sucking off of the already overburdened taxpayers in England, who are stupid enough to put up with their tomfoolery! Queen Elizabeth is at least a good a states-person as Kissenger or Churchill or any of them. Charles makes a wonderful pair of radar dishes. Fergy, when she's not binge eating, is flashing her boobs all over the world. I mean, come on people, what do they do? What do they contribute? I'd like to know the numbers. I bet close to a thousand people died in automobile accidents last night all over the world. Of them, there may have been a doctor who saved lives in an emergency room, a teacher who molded young minds for two decades, or a fireman who bravely faced Hell on a daily basis. Where's the memorial and news specials for these real heroes? There isn't any. More than likely this is because none of them affected the fashion industry the last twenty years like Princess Diana. I have two theories about her death, and I find them both equally satisfying. First of all, she was running away from the media monster that created her in the first place and died because of her desire to leave the life she made for herself. This bit of irony pleases the hell out of me. Second thought is this: Diana had secrets about the Royal Family (what a contradiction in terms) and they bumped her off and made it look like an accident. You don't think so? Well then, you also know Oswald acted alone, don't you? (Read this last part with the appropriate sarcastic venom.) Either way, I'm glad. Yes, I'm glad. I might go to Hell for it, but I'm glad she's gone. This means, after the next few days when the fickle attentions of the world switch to something else I will be rid of her forever. Gone. Kaput. Outta here! Thank goodness. Because, quite frankly, I don't care what kind of shoes she's wearing today. If I could, I'd like to see the whole Royal Family sink on their multi-million dollar 'yatch' (it's an ocean liner, people, and with the taxes the English pay you'd figure they'd get to ride on it just once, yes, each of them) in the middle of the Indian Ocean on one of the 'consolation' cruises Charles uses to forget the fact that his mistress is even uglier than he is. |
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