Wherein Fly Hates on Jessica Simpson
For the last several years, Jessica Simpson has been promoted and promoted and promoted by record labels, film studios, television, radio, magazines, yadda yadda. She did that show with her husband, Nick Lachey, that was funny for what, five minutes?
So now Nick and Jessica have divorced, allegedly because Jessica's a floozie; I'm shocked by this, believe me. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of men in my age bracket are ecstatic because she's seemingly back on the market. (If a pretty boy with money can't keep her, what makes you think she wants to drink PBR on a couch you got for free out of someone's front yard, frat boy?) I've finally reached Jessica Simpson overload. Why?
As frequent readers will know, I'm home for about a week. Pretty much as soon as I was out of the house, my mother decided, after holding out for little to no reason for years, to get cable Internet. I was looking at "The Fan" on Comcast's website, watching various video clips, and they had the video for Jessica Simpson's remake of the Nancy Sinatra classic, "These Boots Were Made For Walking", which I actually have on my copy of the Full Metal Jacket soundtrack. Simpson's version, which was on the soundtrack for The Duke's of Hazzard (starring Stifler and the guy from Mtv's "Jackass") left me with only one thought: "This is an affront to music."
Also, I wound up with a free subscription to Maxim Magazine. This month's cover girl is none other than Bimba Maxima herself. She come off as being phenomenally stupid in her interview (and with the softball questions that come from Maxim interviewers, that's a real accomplishment); for example, she claims that her sister Ashlee (you know, the one-hit-wonder who lip-synced on SNL and then fell off the face of the Earth because she doesn't have any talent or even good looks) is the hot girl of 2006. The clincher for me, though, is that the pictorial is pretty much an embarrassment. When one compares it to her original Maxim pictorial (circa 2002, I believe), one can come to only one conclusion: the time has come to relegate Jessica Simpson to the third rate stardom she deserves. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and proclaim that I would rather date Mudflap again than spend an evening with Jessica Simpson.
Sweet merciful glaven, I can't believe I actually just wasted a whole post on this. Crikey.
So now Nick and Jessica have divorced, allegedly because Jessica's a floozie; I'm shocked by this, believe me. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of men in my age bracket are ecstatic because she's seemingly back on the market. (If a pretty boy with money can't keep her, what makes you think she wants to drink PBR on a couch you got for free out of someone's front yard, frat boy?) I've finally reached Jessica Simpson overload. Why?
As frequent readers will know, I'm home for about a week. Pretty much as soon as I was out of the house, my mother decided, after holding out for little to no reason for years, to get cable Internet. I was looking at "The Fan" on Comcast's website, watching various video clips, and they had the video for Jessica Simpson's remake of the Nancy Sinatra classic, "These Boots Were Made For Walking", which I actually have on my copy of the Full Metal Jacket soundtrack. Simpson's version, which was on the soundtrack for The Duke's of Hazzard (starring Stifler and the guy from Mtv's "Jackass") left me with only one thought: "This is an affront to music."
Also, I wound up with a free subscription to Maxim Magazine. This month's cover girl is none other than Bimba Maxima herself. She come off as being phenomenally stupid in her interview (and with the softball questions that come from Maxim interviewers, that's a real accomplishment); for example, she claims that her sister Ashlee (you know, the one-hit-wonder who lip-synced on SNL and then fell off the face of the Earth because she doesn't have any talent or even good looks) is the hot girl of 2006. The clincher for me, though, is that the pictorial is pretty much an embarrassment. When one compares it to her original Maxim pictorial (circa 2002, I believe), one can come to only one conclusion: the time has come to relegate Jessica Simpson to the third rate stardom she deserves. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and proclaim that I would rather date Mudflap again than spend an evening with Jessica Simpson.
Sweet merciful glaven, I can't believe I actually just wasted a whole post on this. Crikey.
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