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Seems only yesterday our culture was run by racism-ranting heiresses, rampaging redheads and self-mutilating pop stars. Suddenly, the whole culture is being run by bleacher-sitting T-shirt-wearing dorks who celebrate life-long commitment. This can't be good for democracy.
Where so recently we were awash in underage pole-dancing and the image of our national icons teetering on edge of self-immolation, now they demurely stand to the side, giving us space to pity them while hip hops stars try in vain to steal their thunder.
After years of seeing Parish Hilton and her set push our culture to the brink of armageddon, can it be that we have really stepped back from the precipice?
Some evidence that the tide has truly turned:
The upside of this are clear: our national solvency can't but be helped by young girls actually having positive role-models and not being encouraged to grow up into out-of-contol, drunk-on-narcissism, half-witted tabloid fodder striving desperately for negative attention.
Still, on the other hand, so many have wished Paris and Lindsay to be gone for so long, that shouldn't we be just a little bit worried that on the brink of getting our wish, we may be walking into a trap; that standing on a hill somewhere Mr. Roarke is watching our sea plane taking off and saying, mysteriously, "Yes, Tattoo, America got its fantasy of a world with no Paris, but, my friend, but at what price?"
Is a world where stars comport themselves with dignity, remember to thank their parents, refrain from swearing, never tape themselves having sex, don't steal their friends' husbands and don't Twitter in the middle of the night on meth, really what we want? Nice, earnest, stars devoted to their craft and wanting to do good for their community...you wanted it and now we've all got it. Unfasten your seat belts...the Ferrari is coming to a halt.
Send an email to Richard Rushfield, the author of this post, at rushfield@gawker.com.
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