Symptoms/Side Effects:

• Headaches. Migraines. Aneurisms.
• Panic attacks at the sight or sound of any voice synthesizer.
• A pain that can only compare to that of the pain found from listening to Children's Sing-a-long cassettes.
• An irrepressible urge to fling yourself off a tall building or move to China, where they provide the service for you.
• A newfound pride in your brunette heritage
• Wrapping yourself in the fetal position and rocking back and forth in a safe corner of your house (But really...no place is safe.).
• Outbursts of uncontrollable crying.
• You find new religion in sports radio...and you hate sports.-You find Korean pop artists to be talented.
• You escape to R Place to discover the soothing sounds of Tuesday night karaoke in order to hear people who really can "sing."            
• If you had a choice between a) this horrible development or b) eating your best friend, you would pick eating your best friend...alive. You can't take any chances. You find choice B to be much more humane than that of A. But really, who can blame you?

The Horrible Development: Paris Hilton's single, "Stars are blind." 

It has been a long time since I have listened to the radio, and with good reason. I remember a few months back I had officially over-played the CD I had in my car and decided to turn on the radio. It just so happened that right when I pushed the button on my stereo, this bland, prepubescent voice flooded my car with gibberish beyond my understanding. Within 3/10 of a second, I had switched back to my CD (I have the reaction skills of a chinchilla on speed.).

Yes. I was saved from it the first time, but the second time around I wasn't so lucky. I was in a public place where businesses have the right to inflict torture on the innocent. So there I was, cross-eyed with my brain cells contemplating if holding on was really worth the agony of analyzing such a lackluster song.

Imagine if you mixed Britney Spears, Boy George, Gwen Stefani, and a limp banana together, dressed it up in pink and spiked it with vicodin, vodka-flavored roofies and a pinch of dog piss. Yes. You've envisioned it. These are the essential ingredients for creating Paris Hilton, the recording artist.

I was recently informed by my friend, Kyle, that this was in fact the second single Paris had released. The first release, appropriately titled, "Screwed," should have been reason enough to segregate Paris from the recording industry. Yet, here she is still. I guess if Lindsay can do it, then Paris should get to as well. They could even go on tour together. I would actually encourage this. Think about it. Multiple concerts across the country, hoarding thousands of injudicious fans...No, I'm not inviting a terrorist attack, I'm merely inviting a miraculous act of justice. We have to stop this endemic before Paris has a third single, or even worse—a fan base.
Surprisingly, the critics are being nicer than I had thought they would.

Here is what one critic had to say:

"Her fans are not responding to the concept of her fame for fame's sake," [Village Voice's Michael Musto] says. "They're responding to her personality. The blankness. I'm not saying it as a diss. She has the quality of allowing any viewer to project whatever they want on her. That's why she transcends all media." [...]

The blankness. Oh, yes. The blankness. This has got to be the best spin on a person's complete lack of personality...ever. It should be said that a paper bag also has the unique quality of allowing any viewer to project whatever he wants onto it (Garbage dispenser? Purse? Gift bag? Puppet? Luggage perhaps? The list goes on.), yet we usually find a connection with things, and people, that provide us with some sort of mental stimulation. However, I will take advantage of Paris' versatile dullness and project what I want on her aspiring singing career.

Paris Hilton's "Stars are Blind":

"I don't mind spending some time, just hanging here with you." 

Yes, but he might mind.

"Cuz I don't find too many guys
that treat me like you do
." 

With ample respect? Does he bring you out in the daylight and introduce you to his friends? Does he feed you? Is he straight? The suspense is killing me. Please continue. (Please note the spelling of "cuz."  It's wrong yet true.)

"Those other guys all wanna take me for a ride." 

I'm fairly certain I can vouch for my guy friends when I say that your sexual reputation has greatly depreciated in value with the release of your home video. Hearing of your less than impressive performance doesn't surprise me though. With limp eyes and slow reaction skills, I would be surprised if you even attracted ferrets.

"But when I walk their talk is suicide." 

This is a prime example for why pregnant women should never start drinking in their third trimester. If you are going to commit to drinking, remember you should always commit at the beginning of your pregnancy. That way, the government can decipher which children sincerely should be supervised for the rest of their lives. If you start drinking in the third trimester, you leave room for giving birth to a stupid child who still possesses the right to vote.

"Some people never get beyond their 'stupid pride.'" 

Wait. I think this is a Mad Lib and poor Paris filled it out incorrectly. Please replace stupid pride with "vastly superior intellect."  It's okay, Paris. A lot of people are bitter about what they don't possess. Well, except for the intellectually superior.

"But you can see the real me inside." 

Does it involve an obese hamster and a broken wheel?

"And I'm satisfied, oh no, ohh."

 

Oh man. Do you remember that one line from that Paris Hilton song? It's on the tip of my tongue. It starts with, "And I'm satisfied" and then I forget.

Wait. Let me look it up.

By God. That's it: "Oh no...ohh."  Brilliant.

It's never a good sign, when lyric databases include filler oohs and ahhs.

"Even though the gods are crazy." 

This statement has no relevancy whatsoever to the recorded accounts above. Please stay on topic.

"Even though the stars are blind." 

Do you ever think that if Chad Kroger (Nickelback) lost 100 pounds, grew out his hair, reduced the size of his breasts, lowered his voice, shaved his beard, and wore hot pants, he might bear an extreme resemblance to that of Paris?

"If you show me real love baby,
I'll show you mine." 

Take heed, Paris. You might frighten the gentleman if you show him your penis too soon.

"I can make you nice and naughty,
Be the devil and angel too." 

Bipolar disorder is a disease. It's not something to make light of. Shame on you.

"Got a heart and soul and body." 

Are these her selling points? Or her standards? If it's the former, remember, you also have money. I would throw that one at the top of the list. If it's the latter, I would aim lower and eliminate heart and soul.

"Let's see what this love can do. Baby, I'm perfect for you."
 

So you're perfect for him? ... Does he possess an anatomically incorrect build, with a large, plastic head?

"My love, ohh oh."

 

It's true. Love can only be described with a moan.

"I could be your confidante, just one of your girlfriends. 
But I know that love's what you want." 

Remember, kids, that moans denote love, which means that sex is all this gentleman wants. You mean a guy just wants sex from Paris? NO.

"If tomorrow the world ends,
why shouldn't we be with the one(s? Possibly? Unless it's referring to Paris' cult leader.) we really love?"
 

Couldn't you have just asked, "Why shouldn't we be with the one(s) we love?"  Does the world need to be ending in order to be with the one you love? Why do you even need to bring up the idea of the world ending?

Seriously though. If tomorrow comes, and the man I really love just happens to be stabbed 49 times, doused with gasoline and set on fire, why shouldn't I be with him today?

"Now tell me who have you been dreaming of, at night at home?" 

What about during the day, or at night not at home, while you are sleeping with other women? Do you dream of me? Please let it be me.

It's time for the bridge:

"Excuse me for feeling." 

Never.

"This moment is critical." 

Is this when your head explodes from too much emotional stimulation? Or is this when the gentleman's head explodes from the extreme lack of emotional stimulation? I'm excited.

"Might be me feeling
it could get physical, oh no, no no." 

Are you disagreeing with yourself? Don't worry, Paris. The only person getting physical will be him. You will just do what you always do...lie there. 



"Even though the gods are crazy.
 Even though the stars are blind. 
If you show me real love, baby,
I'll show you mine.

I can make you nice and naughty. 
Be the devil and angel too. 
Got a heart and soul and body. 
Let's see what this love can do. 
Let's see what this love can do. 
Baby I'm perfect for you.

Baby, I'm perfect for you. Even though the gods are crazy.

Even though the stars are blind.

Even though the gods are crazy

Even though the stars are blind."  

If someone would be so kind to put me into a drug-induced coma, providing me with no hope of life in order to alleviate my worries of ever hearing this song again, I would appreciate it. Thanks.