Olen Joseph Bajarias
Staff Writer
The Kardashian Klan, in yet another effort to crowbar their part-Armenian ‘bootays’ into pop culture’s Kollective Konsciousness, unleashed a four-hour wedding special upon an unsuspecting Irish public last Sunday.
‘Kim’s Fairytale Wedding: A Kardashian Event’ is the unintentionally ironic title of this 2-part bacchanal of faux-drama and dumb conflict in the days leading up to the Big Day – as much about the union of Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries as it is about Mr. Humphries’ integration into this insidiously castrating family.
Case in point: Bruce Jenner, Olympian decathlete and pro-male virility, anti-hair loss Prometheus of the 70s. After marrying the matriarch of the Kardashians, he has turned into an eye-rolling backdrop eunuch – a tucked-in, ancillary Fun Police to his wife and stepchildren’s antics.
NBA pro-basketball player Kris Humphries, it seems, is headed in this general direction. In the second part of ‘Kim’s Fairytale Wedding,’ we see Kris growing an off-the-wedding-checklist moustache as a final, futile exercise of his volition, only to shave it off minutes before he is bound for the altar. It seems funny, never mind oh-so-ironic, that in marrying someone as sexually-objectified and lusted-after as Kim Kardashian, Kris has willingly strapped himself, trousers down to the ankles, under the testicular guillotine.
Now, on to the wedding.
Diabetics, have your insulin pens close at hand for you are about to experience an unadulterated bump of excess. The wedding venue: a cariogenic confection of rococo swirls, gilded tchotchkes, sequins and flowers – papal chic by way of Caligula. This is what you get when you throw an indiscriminate sum of money at an under-medicated, schizophrenic wedding planner. An iridescent, rhinestone-embossed crucifix looms over the makeshift church as Kim walks down the aisle arm-linked to Bruce, amid applause from the guests: not-yet-household names like Cheryl Burke, Lala Vasques, Carmelo Anthony, Larsa Pippen and Mark Ballas.
Watching these people assembled was a wholly unexpected but welcome study in the workings ofHollywood ecology. Ahem. The celebrity rainforest has a finite amount of space and limelight. Therefore these B-list saplings, in an effort to thrive in this Darwinian ecosystem, must compete with each other to kiss some serious Kardashian butt, hoping to live off any deflected rays of media attention.
Had Paris Hilton married some guy at the peak of her meta-fame a couple of years ago, it wouldn’t have been surprising to see Kim and her epic backside on one of the pews, fawning over the leggy bride from afar. In fact Kim Kardashian, before she became Kim Kardashian, hovered around Paris’ periphery, photobombing the heiress’ drunken paparazzi shots every chance she got.
When something becomes so popular that it’s everywhere, our attention to it is progressively down-regulated until we eventually ignore it, opting for new stimuli. This chronic compulsion to search for novelty – no matter how superficial – was what eventually spawned a Kim Kardashian, after our increasing apathy to Paris and her omnipresence dealt lethal blows to Ms. Hilton’s career. Grown bloated, fat and hypertrophied after years and years of binging on public attention, Paris’ über-fame now needed an increased, or at the very least a sustained, amount of spotlight to survive – something that we were no longer prepared to give. Wilted and left to rot, Paris Hilton’s fame decomposed back to the soil as she returned to partial anonymity, with Kim Kardashian springing forth from the detritus.
At the Kardashian-Humphries wedding reception, amongst well-wishers and fame-seekers, stubble-free Kris Humphries and Kim Kardashian (she chose not to take his last name) slow-danced the night away to the laboured vocal acrobatics of RnB crooner-cum-actor-cum-singer-songwriter Robin Thicke, replete with thicke ,syrupy falsettos that sent sexually-uninvited chills down the teeth and the spine.
However, I hope Kim’s marriage lasts. If only so we don’t have another one of these in a few years time.
