Back when Arianna Huffington founded the Huffington Post, she promised a blogging free-for-all where Washington D.C.'s best and brightest would rub virtual shoulders with megawatt Hollywood movie stars. Three years later, the site's political promise has been fulfilled, but HuffPo can boast little in the way of celebrities aside from ponderings written by the other brother on Wings, pre-emptive "I Didn't Do the Nanny" missives from Rob Lowe, and the occasional drop-in by Charlotte's husband from Sex and the City. And then, for some reason, there is Candy Spelling.
For some reason, Huffington sees fit to keep granting prime blogging real estate to the wife of Aaron Spelling (best known in her own right for alienating her daughter Tori and demanding a gift-wrapping room in her mansion). First, Spelling got her sea legs by penning an unsolicited, no doubt unread letter to Paris Hilton. This past weekend, on a front page boasting notable names like Cenk Uygar and Robert Reich, Spelling was granted a comfortable berth for her plaintive, empty essay, "Thanksgiving and Then What?" Let's find out what, shall we?
I remember learning in school that America was divided into three classes: the lower, middle and upper class. We all strived to get to the middle class, the signal that we had arrived, fulfilling the American dream.
We don't talk very much about classes any longer, and I don't miss that.
Yes, it's rare to find that kind of talk at the country club! Still, Spelling mentions that this class talk may have been supplanted by this "Two Americas" thing she heard that one presidential candidate say once, the one who cheated on his wife. Maybe that's something worth looking into! Then, Spelling pivots into her next, inscrutable non sequitur.
In California, the maps of the counties that voted for and against Proposition 8 to ban gay marriage was as distinctive as the red and blue states, but most graphic portrayals were in black and white.
Was something lost in her dictation to her loyal maid, Marisol, or is Spelling referring to the Nate Silver-debunked idea that black people were to blame for the passage of Prop 8? No time to find out! Spelling has no more to say on this subject!
The really good America was in full force yesterday. Here in Los Angeles, I saw the wonderful "Father Dollar Bill," the loving name given to Reverend Maurice Chase, who hands out dollar bills (with inflation, now hundred dollars bills sometimes) to homeless and needy people in Downtown L.A. [...] Right nearby are the Skid Row missions and shelters, which serve thousands of healthy Thanksgiving meals to anyone who needs them. The expressions on the faces on the children, senior citizens and everyone else are priceless. It was also encouraging to hear that there were more volunteers than ever before donating their time to prepare and serve the meals.
...Not that she would be caught dead among them, of course. But to hear about it is very swell. Sadly, Spelling has to bum the room out with her closer:
And, then, this morning, on the aptly named Black Friday, the first national story of the day was that an employee at a Walmart in Valley Stream, New York, was, as CNN told me, "trampled by a mob of morning shoppers." There were also reports of shoppers being injured.
I understand political differences. I worship those who donate their time and money to help others. I have no words for the concept of shoppers trampling a store employee and fellow shoppers to make the most of Black Friday.
Apparently not, as the blog ends before Spelling can devote anything more than a recitation of events to probing these issues. Here, though, is a potentially helpful way to make sense of Walmart culture: actually have set foot in a Walmart. Andy Cohen, do you see what you've encouraged?